Such A Good Guy

10. Luna

CHAPTER 10

Luna

O nce we were in Quebec for the next concert, I was determined to turn Luke’s attention to someone else.

What had happened a few nights ago was an obscene abnormality and was not going to happen again.

Nothing had changed between us.

I glanced over at him as he did sound prep at the Théatre Corona in Montreal, a vintage movie theater with an old-fashioned red velvet interior.

Luke looked the same as he always had. Those fucking knockout blue eyes, perfectly sculpted cheekbones, even a hint of stubble on his cheeks, that natural golden blonde hair falling into his face as he brushed it back with strong tanned fingers.

He was grinning at Ignatius as the Business Manager attempted to teach him some French phrases to show the crowd how appreciative he was.

The way he looked with those French words in my mouth gave me a good idea.

“Are you OK doing some fan meet and greets after the show?” I asked slyly.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” Luke said. “Bring whoever you want in. If you agree to rest afterward. You’re doing a lot to help me and you don’t need to.”

“If you’ll do whatever I want, will you give up this idea of us being together?” I asked.

He smiled at me.

“I’m afraid that’s the one thing I cannot do. You need what I can do to your body, baby girl.”

“Please never mention what happened in Nunavut ever again,” I begged, my face flaming.

“But I want to do it again,” Luke objected. “I want everything with you, Luna. I want to be your husband and the best father to your children.”

I sniffed and tossed my head. Luke could not seriously want to settle down. He would change his mind when he saw the stunning women I found after the show.

Perhaps he was just too gentlemanly to try to fuck anyone in front of me.

Well, I would make it impossible to resist.

Obviously, I would find a good variety of women and then he could pick between them.

The show went perfectly as usual. Luke had such natural, easy stage presence, and he fitted his performance easily for a smaller, more intimate venue like this.

I was busy trying to pick the hottest women out of the audience for a meet and greet, which meant I could ignore the way his strong fingers moved over the guitar strings, and the way I now knew exactly how those strong fingers could move over me, too.

Ignatius sidled up to me as I was writing down seat numbers and locations.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“Fine,” I answered distractedly. I had been thinking of him as a mysterious and attractive romantic possibility, but orgasming from Luke spanking me had complicated matters. If Ignatius spanked me, would it have the same effect? I wished I was the sort of person who could go around asking men to spank them. I wanted to prove it wasn’t that I was attracted to Luke.

“What do you want?” I asked when he seemed reluctant to speak.

“How much do you know about Luke O’Neill?” he said in a low tone.

I glanced at the stage, where Luke had brought up a 95-year-old granny to dance with him, her face looking like she had just won a million dollars as he moved back and forth, his fingers strumming that guitar with easy, unmistakable talent, his face and energy unmatchable.

“A pretty long time,” I said. “Why?”

“Just. . .be careful,” he said, his dark eyes looking down earnestly at me.

“Be careful of what?” I asked.

“Just—be careful, that’s all,” he said again.

“Of what?” I repeated, but he refused to say.

I wished I was a more romantic type of person so I could appreciate this pointless warning, but unfortunately it just pissed me off.

Be careful of what?

After the show, I went up to the women I had picked out and invited them back for a fan meet and greet.

They were all absolutely thrilled, and I talked up how great of a guy Luke was confidently to each one.

“You would think he was full of himself,” I confided, “but really he is so down-to-earth and humble.”

Well, that was true anyways.

“You might think he’s a playboy,” I continued, “but he isn’t. He really just wants a traditional relationship with a family and children.”

Could that seriously be true? I began to worry.

Luke wasn’t a playboy, but he had had other girlfriends, right? Right?

I tried desperately to remember college days. I’d literally never seen him so much as talk to another girl. Fuck fuck fuck. How long had he been interested in me? He was making me uneasy with how he was talking like it was a sure thing I’d change my mind. He hadn’t been that obsessed, had he?

I found a tiny black-haired woman with braids, a statuesque brunette, a tall blonde with broad shoulders and a lovely baritone voice, even twin sisters with pink hair. There were dozens of the absolutely hottest women in the entire city of Montreal for his sampling pleasure.

When I brought them backstage, Luke was leaning against a table, strumming idly on the ukulele.

Good. This would be irresistible catnip to his rabid superfans, and they would be catnip to him.

There was a huge, communal intake of breath as they saw him, and both pink-haired twins immediately rushed up to him, grabbing both his hands.

He immediately wrung away, frowning.

“No, I’m not interested.”

I felt irritated and swept my arm generally over the group.

“I’m sure you wouldn’t want to deny your passionate fans the opportunity for some one-on-one time?” I said.

“What’s one-on-one time?” he asked, his lips twisting up at me.

“Well. . . you know,” I said, sidling up to him and hissing at him. “The usual mega-celebrity shit. Fucking all your groupies.”

He grinned. “I don’t fuck my groupies.”

“Why?”

“I only want you .”

“Come on, Luke,” I choked out.

He put a hand on the back of my neck, then turned slightly.

“Just to be clear and upfront, this is the future Mrs. Luna O’Neill but I’m happy to take pictures with everyone. Just no touching, please.”

There were some very disgruntled looks at me as they all trooped out after one no-touching picture apiece.

“Did you bring us here to humiliate us?” one woman snapped.

“I didn’t know he was going to do that,” I hissed back.

Irritation sizzled over my skin, and I felt sudden anger spike over me even though I was normally so even-tempered.

“Luke, what is the matter with you?” I raged at him. “I was just trying to show you some other options. Stop acting so obsessed with me.”

He waited patiently, his hands on the table behind him.

“I’m sorry, but that’s one thing I can’t give you,” he said apologetically.

My fear seemed to swallow me, and I held out my hand, standing several feet away so I couldn’t feel his heat.

“Let me see your phone,” I demanded.

He drew his eyebrows together.

Instead of the usual response men gave, he said, “Sure. I think it’s in my backpack over there.”

“You don’t keep it on you?” I snapped.

No matter how much I snapped at him, Luke never looked at me with anything but sunny joy.

“Why would I?” he asked. “ You’re here with me.”

He strode over to his bag and picked up his phone, handing it to me without even a glance down at it.

I hoped against hope that I would find something to relieve my anxiety on it. But his texts were all boring and professional.

Except the ones from me.

I flicked to the pictures. Nothing of his. Nothing he’d taken.

Nothing except every single picture I’d ever sent to him. Every steak dinner, every meme, every cool piece of art, every random Pride & Prejudice joke.

“This is the phone of a stone-cold psychopath,” I said. “Where’s all the thirsty texts from your one-night stands? Texts from your drug dealers?”

“I don’t use my phone very much.”

“You’ve got texts in here from me from years ago,” I said, my voice heading to a high pitch.

My stomach felt like it was turning over, trying to avoid the conclusion staring me in the face.

“I love you, Luna,” he said, his eyes on me. “I always have.”

The words how long? hovered on my lips, but maybe I didn’t want to know.

“I want to go home,” I said. “You’re scaring me, Luke. You’re not a normal person. You can’t be.”

“You can’t go home,” he said, and as I began backing away from him, he pushed off the table and advanced on me.

“I can,” I said, “as soon as I find my passport.”

“I’ll keep your passport safe,” Luke replied as fear twisted my heart. “You have nothing to worry about, angel. Nothing at all. I’ll keep you safe.”

His voice was pleasant, his eyes were warm, but the way he walked wasn’t normal. It wasn’t his usual easy, loping surfer boy walk. It wasn’t just the walk of a sweet anxious-to-please himbo.

It was the stride of predator, each movement tight and efficient, his movements all geared toward one thing.

Take

Claim

Possess

I opened my mouth to scream, and suddenly Ignatius opened the door and walked in the room.

“I’ve got our plane tickets. Ready to go to Edmonton?”

I escaped to stand beside the Business Manager, trying to use all my analytical skills to think calmly.

One thing at a time.

First, the plane to Edmonton.

Then, I needed to find a way to escape, and I would have to see if Ignatius could help me.