Page 95 of A Sinful Gravity

She was right. I didn't know her six years ago. Only starting to now. But the more I understood, the more I realized how inadequate I'd been. Everything she'd endured alone all those years, the silent hurt, her inner strength and beauty—I was only now beginning to see it, piece by piece.

I worked through some acquisition agreements that needed signing, and sat behind that ebony desk for a long time. Finally, I grabbed my personal phone and called Chloe.

It rang forever before she picked up, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Cassian, if you're calling to ask what Luna ate for lunch again like last time, I suggest you hang up now."

"That's not why I'm calling." I pressed my throbbing temple, my voice lower than ever before. "Chloe, Luna seems troubled lately. I think maybe she's exhausted..."

"And?"

"I want to make her happy. Really happy. You were right before. I don't know her at all. All I can think of are fancy dates... but those won't reach her. I'm afraid if I do something on my own, I'll screw it up."

Long silence on the other end. Maybe sensing the almost pleading sincerity in my tone, Chloe's voice finally softened.

"You haven't gone crazy lately, at least... Fine. Since Luna and Laila both seem happy right now, maybe you can help her fulfill a dream."

"A dream? About ballet?"

Chloe laughed, though I couldn't tell if it was mocking or pleased. "Do you remember who Luna's idol is?"

"Sonia Petrova." The name came instantly. Six years ago, I'd bought that necklace, planning to give it to Luna, so I knew about her.

My mind clicked into gear. "Thank you, Chloe. I'll sponsor the new gallery show."

I hung up and immediately had my assistant track down Sonia Petrova's contact information and schedule.

Sonia Petrova, former principal at Paris Opera Ballet, was called a "living ballet legend." Over sixty, long retired, living in seclusion in Switzerland, never accepting private meetings. She occasionally appeared at important events and charity galas.

My assistant spent all afternoon and finally reached her manager, found out that Sonia was coming to the U.S. this weekend for a charity auction.

But when the manager heard it was an American businessman wanting to meet, flat refusal—Sonia's principle: no outsiders.

I thought for a moment, spent an hour writing a letter, scanned it, attached a video of Luna dancing, and sent it over.

Then waited a full day.

The reply came the next evening.

Sonia's manager sent one line: She'll meet. But only the dancer, no other projects, schedule must remain confidential. Two hours only, Sunday afternoon, three to five.

I exhaled.

That evening, I waited by the entrance before Luna came back from rehearsal.

When the lock turned, and she walked in with the evening chill clinging to her, I stepped forward and took her bag. This would've been unthinkable for the old me, but now, I did it more naturally than any butler.

"Are you free this Sunday?" I watched her face, pale with exhaustion, trying to keep my voice calm and pressure-free.

Luna looked at me hesitantly. "Sunday? Yeah, why?"

"I want to take you out. Just the two of us." I met her eyes, my breathing slightly rushed. "Don't ask where, don't ask what. Just give me a chance—a chance to let you see me differently. I promise, if you're not enjoying it, I'll bring you home immediately."

She frowned slightly, her fingers absently twisting her coat belt. Obviously, these so-called "surprises" had never ended well in our past.

She stared at me for a while, then finally nodded as if conceding.

"Okay. But not too far."

"I promise," I said quietly, though my heart pounded at this small agreement.