It was also the first time either one of us had verbalized anything beyond the current moment.
“I think I will feel comfortable eventually,” he said. “I’d like to work on it.”
I tucked my hair behind my ear, suddenly shy. “That makes me happy to hear.”
He kept staring at the wall of photos. “Now that I know you better, this is who you are, Luna.” He tapped an old picture of me. “You’re the girl in these photos and the CEO standing in front of me. Didn’t you tell me we all get to love what we want in this world?”
“Sounds like me,” I said, laughing a little.
“You should love what you love.”
Beck turned around, continued to stare at all the pictures while I ate cookies and admired the lines of his shoulders.
He tapped a photo of me. “Where’s this?”
“At an elephant sanctuary in Thailand where my parents and I stayed for a bit.”
He pointed to the next one. “And here?”
“A bike fundraiser for literacy programs in Miami schools,” I said.
He tapped the famous one—me holding that million-dollar check.
“Businesses can do right by the world,” I said, looking at the picture. “I’m starting to believe that again. Believe in our mission.”
“I’m proud of you,” he said. His big body took up so much space in this room; I was transfixed by it. I was glowing. He caught my look, responded with his own. In two large strides, he was right in front of me. I blinked then I was being lifted in the air and deposited on the island.
Beck stepped between my legs. Reached up and undid the tie in my hair.
I loved this little obsession he had.
“I didn’t come over here for a… a booty call,” he said. “I don’t want you to think that.”
“What if that’s what I want though?” I said, wrapping my legs around his waist.
He inhaled my hair, roamed his teeth along my throat.
“I haven’t seen your bedroom, Luna,” he whispered, tone dark and delicious.
“Allow me to show you, sir,” I said.
47
Beck
“I should Instagram this,” Luna said, popping an entire cookie into her mouth. She was wearing my shirt and sitting next to me in her gigantic bed—white curtains, white bedding, green plants and a fountain in the corner. It was like laying in a cloud.
“Cookies that delicious, huh?” I asked, head leaned back on my arm.
“I meant this.” She pointed at my cock, still half-hard.
I grinned, covering it up with my hand.
“Don’t hide it,” she squealed. She grabbed another cookie, handed it to me. “But in all seriousness, you did good, Mr. Mason.” She had a bit of chocolate on her lip—I leaned in, licked it off, kissed her cheek.
She was flushing when I leaned back. “I didn’t think you were such a romantic, to be honest. A romantic and a fuck machine.”
“Fuck machine,” I repeated dryly.
“Very much so.” She bit her lip. “I like it.”
I fisted my hand into her shirt. Tugged her all the way until our mouths met again. “Weren’t you the woman who just held me down while you sat on my face?”
Another flush, a graceful lift of her brow. “Vegan goddesses can be fuck machines too.”
I nipped at her jaw, reluctantly letting her go. After Luna had lowered herself over my face, I was lost in lust for hours, devouring her through orgasm after orgasm before flipping her over and taking her hard. But she wasn’t wrong about the romance either—like our ocean sex, everything intense was followed with sweetness.
I stroked her bare ankle with my thumb. “You haven’t posted that picture of us from our date on your page.”
“Spying on me?” she asked.
“The staff at Lucky Dog is obsessed with you,” I hedged. “And maybe.”
“Which date though?”
“Our first one.”
“Beers at Dean’s?”
I shook my head. “Burgers.”
She tapped her chin. “We’ve had a lot of dates. One might even say we’re dating.”
“One might.”
She picked up her phone, found the photo in question. “You mean this one, right?” There it was: Luna laughing as I kissed her cheek. “One might even say,” I said, gathering my courage, “that you’re my girlfriend.”
She couldn’t contain her excitement. “Does that make you my boyfriend?”
“If a forty-year-old man can be someone’s boyfriend,” I said, attempting a shrug.
“Oh, he can,” she replied. She typed away on her phone. Chewed on her lip. Bounced her knees a little. Flipped her phone around to show what she’d just created.
There we were, available to be judged, loved and hated by Luna’s twelve million followers. Her caption read, “Boyfriend and girlfriend.”
I cleared my throat. “I like it,” I said, voice rough. “Jasmine might not.”
“I am publicly declaring my relationship with the executive director of the nonprofit I’m helping—” she started.
“—a man from Miami’s most hated crime family—”
“—and a woman the city of Miami currently believes clubs seals in her spare time to make lipstick,” she finished.
My lips twitched. “What a pair we make.”
“I think Jasmine might call this a public relations nightmare.”
“And what do you call it?” I asked. This felt like trust to me. This felt like… like…
“The real me,” she said.
Real.
I swallowed my sigh of relief.
She lay down, placing her head on my chest. My fingers immediately went to her scalp, scratching as she purred.
“I like this you,” I said.
“I like this me too.”
Long minutes went by before she spoke again. “Can I ask you an intimate question? And please know you absolutely do not need to answer it.”
I stiffened. She felt it, sitting up. She waited, as patiently as she waited for Penelope to eat from her hand.
“Yes, you can,” I said. I still felt at odds with her extreme wealth, the casual money so fucking obvious everywhere I looked when I’d walked through her doors. I was honest when I told her I was trying to feel comfortable.
Because I wasn’t there yet.
Naked in her bed though? That was a different story.
“Did your parents ever… lay their hands on you?” she asked, voice soft and gentle. Face open and non-judgmental.
I weighed out the consequences of telling the truth. But couldn’t I be honest with a woman that was now my girlfriend?
“Do you mean was I ever hit?” I asked. “Yes.”
Her nostrils flared. But she didn’t speak yet.
“Getting smacked around was part of the culture there,” I admitted. The member hitting me for knocking his beer over wasn’t the only time. “Georgie, not so much. But I took backhands from Rip.”
She placed her hand over my heart, cupping it—like she was keeping it safe. “No one deserves that. I’m so, so sorry.”
“They’re not worth your apologies,” I said. “My parents are worth less than dog shit on the bottom of a shoe. The only reason they’re even present in my life right now is because—”
Her mouth pinched with concern. “Wait. Have they contacted you?”
I lifted a shoulder. Looked away. “I… think I’ve seen them a couple times. Riding past Lucky Dog. It’s their usual intimidation.”
“But I thought you said you hadn’t spoken or interacted with them in twenty years.”
“I haven’t.”
“Until I put Lucky Dog all over the internet,” Luna said, fingers clenching in the sheets. I covered them with my own. I felt comfortable telling her about the times Rip slapped me around. I didn’t feel comfortable telling her that the few ride-bys I’d glimpsed had me afraid for the first time in two decades.
“I gave you permissi
on,” I said. “All of this is because of them. Not you. It’s their fault. And the fault of the media. Of gossip.”
Her eyes searched mine. “I feel responsible. Dragging you into a spotlight you said you didn’t want.”
“Except now my nonprofit is actually raising funds for the first time ever and more dogs are going to get rescued,” I countered. “And now I have you.”
Her breath hitched. Her fingers traced my jaw, swept along my lower lip. “I’m opposed to violence. But I would commit real atrocities against your parents, Beck.”
“Stay peaceful,” I said, half-chuckling. “Not worth it, remember?”
“You’re worth it though,” she said, leaning in for a lingering kiss.
And then she lay back down on my chest, falling asleep shortly after. And I held Luna like that all night long, breathing in her sunshine scent, wondering how the hell I’d gotten so lucky.
Terrified that it couldn’t last.
48
Luna
One week later
“What would be the foundation’s focus areas?” Sylvia asked me. We were sitting in the Wild Heart conference room with Rebecca, my CFO, and Jasmine. The real work of the foundation would start next week—there was lots of structure and strategy to work out before we could begin—but I was too excited to wait. I thought Sylvia and I could put our heads together about the vision. And most importantly: the impact.
“Three focus areas,” I said, reading from notes I’d scribbled late last night. Beck had fallen asleep with his shaggy head on my lap on the couch. I’d stroked his hair and dreamed my way through ideas. “People. Animals. The environment. Divided like that. Grantees who fit in those categories would apply specifically and maybe… maybe each category would have its own team of people. A program officer… a separate budget. Different priorities to fit those category needs.”
“You could site visit,” Sylvia suggested. “It’ll be hard with your schedule but—”
“I’d love to,” I said, letting my heart feel that glow.
“It’ll make great press,” Jasmine cut in. “Luna da Rosa, back to changing the world.”
“I’m not having my company start a foundation to garner good press,” I corrected Jasmine.
“It doesn’t mean we can’t garner good press from it,” she shot back. “The fate of Wild Heart ultimately lies with your ability to ensure the public trusts you again. A process that can be sped up with a story like this. You get to donate your money. The nonprofits get to receive money. The extra bump to your reputation is an added bonus.”
But the tone of her voice was starving at the phrase bump to your reputation.
I looked to Sylvia, who was regarding me closely. “What makes you feel uncomfortable about this, Luna?” she asked.
I pulled my hair over one shoulder and mindlessly braided it.
“Being manipulative,” I said. “Using the foundation as a way to make people like me. I’d never want to be that person. It’s… slimy.”
“You don’t get where you are in the world without a bit of slime, trust me,” Jasmine argued.
“She’s not wrong,” Sylvia said carefully, “we’re all a little slimy. But what I hear you saying, Luna, is that you’d like to be… different.”
I knew what people had said about me in this industry when I won the VC award. They’d mocked what I’d declared on that stage, labeled it childish, naïve. People say it’s too hard to make real change in the world anymore, I’d said, keeping my eyes on my parents in the front row. They were my anchor. All the damage has been done. Well, I never, ever thought it would be easy. How could it be? We’re talking about dismantling a system that has been in place for hundreds of years. But suddenly we live in a world where we can’t all try and do better?
“I know it’s naïvely optimistic of me to try and do this and not use it for my own personal gain,” I said softly, “but I’d like to…” I glanced at the photo on my desk of me and my fundraising stand. “I will do better. The media will focus on the nonprofits receiving the funds. Not the foundation.”
“You’re the one giving away the money,” Jasmine said.
“They’re the ones actually doing the work,” I said, leaving no room for her to argue.
She sat back in her chair, arms crossed.
Sylvia glanced at her watch. “I have to go to my next meeting. Luna, let’s schedule for next week with the accountant. There’s a whole hell of a lot of paperwork for us to start processing before we can start accepting applications.”
“I’d like the first gift to be for Lucky Dog though,” I said. “They can fill out an application like everyone else, but I’ve spent weeks working with them and can speak to their value. Feels silly not to end my time working with them by granting them much-needed funding.”
“I like it,” Sylvia said. She swept out of the room, about to close the door when she turned and said, “For what it’s worth, you can be philanthropic without coming off as manipulative. The foundation should be announced, and people should know about it. It doesn’t mean you have to present yourself as the rescuer. You could present it from the heart. An expression of why philanthropy matters.”
I thought about Beck, sharing such an intimate conversation with Jimmy for the camera. The way they weren’t trying to guilt people into money, but giving a piece of themselves. Here’s my heart and soul… What are you going to do with it?
“The media and Luna da Rosa will have a complicated relationship for a long time,” she said. “They can’t control you. And you shouldn’t let them control you now.”
She closed the door behind her, leaving Jasmine and me to regard each other like sparring partners.
“Your time with Lucky Dog has done wonders for your damaged reputation. Giving money through your foundation to your new boyfriend with the criminal past will only make things worse,” she said.
“It’s not to Beck, it’s to Lucky Dog,” I said. “I don’t think anyone can debate the fact that they’re amazing.”
“The media and the public won’t see it that way,” she said.
“The media and the public don’t control my decision-making,” I said, biting off the word anymore. Thinking about what Sylvia had said. Trying not to use the media to manipulate was as exhausting as pandering to them, seeking their approval.
Maybe I should just be. Let the chips fall where they may.
Like Beck would do.
“Listen,” she said, uncrossing her arms and leaning across the table towards me. “I’ve been working with Derek’s team like you asked. Their research indicates that your reputation after Ferris Mark has improved, of course. But barely. And I don’t believe the upward trend will sustain into the future. The next mistake you make—and you will make one because you’re in charge of a billion-dollar company—and they’ll descend on you like vultures.”
I braided faster—then let go. Inhaled. Exhaled. Thought of Beck speaking into the camera—Luna has more integrity in her little finger than most people have in their entire bodies.
I didn’t have to direct this company from a place of fear.
“Let them descend,” I said. “The force of what Wild Heart’s foundation could do is bigger than tabloids and Instagram trolls.”
Jasmine was silent for a minute, drumming her nails on the table. Tap tap tap.
“Moving on to other agenda items. You got invited to be a last-minute keynote speaker. Tonight,” she said.
“Seriously?” I asked. “Why?”
“It’s the Miami Business Woman of the Year award. Prestigious.”
“I know it,” I said. “I’ve been nominated before. So have Cameron, Emily and Daisy. That’s super last-minute though for an event that huge.”
Tap tap tap went her nails.
“The keynote speaker came down with the flu this morning. This year’s organizer is Alissa Hendrix.”
I perked up. “Oh, I love Alissa.” She owned a storefront called Ruby’s Closet that sold trendy,
bohemian clothing and vintage furniture. It was like Anthropologie, but on a smaller scale, and she’d recently expanded from her Florida stores up into the Carolinas. I hadn’t seen her in years.
“She loves you too,” she said.
“What on earth am I speaking on in… six hours?”
“The Changing Landscape of Business in Miami,” she said. “I’ll work on a speech for you. Staff can have it ready in an hour.”
“Sure,” I said, brightening. “This is good news, then?”
“Great news,” she said. “Tonight you’re being accepted back into the world of business in Miami. It’s still a long road but this is the first step we need. Means they don’t all hate you anymore.”
“Or some of them do, but they’ll play nice for tonight,” I added.
“True.” Tap tap tap. “Actually… I have an idea for your speech tonight, now that we’re chatting about it.”
I grabbed a pen and my legal pad. “What is it?”
Jasmine leaned in, with a gleam in her eye I didn’t quite like. “If you’re going to insist on giving funds to Lucky Dog—”
“I insist.”
“—what if we used it?”
I put my pen down. “What do you mean?”
“I think you need a real push. It’s not like these awards are well known anywhere else but here, but if I got media and camera crews there, it could be shown on the news. Shared on social sites. Go viral a little. It would be one of those short videos everyone sends around that makes you cry.”
“Why would my speech about business go viral though?” I asked. “It’ll be inspiring but boring. It’s not a cat with one eye who can only get around with help from his best friend, a duck.”
I would know. I was the person who watched all of those videos.
“Would you bring Beck as your date?”
“Of course. If he’s around.” I had to glance at my paper to hide the silly smile I couldn’t hold back. Beck Mason. Your boyfriend.
WILD OPEN HEARTS: A Bluewater Billionaires Romantic Comedy Page 24