Page 37 of Forgotten Sacrifice
I keep touching Luna. Why the fuck do I keep touching Luna?
We finish our hot dogs in silence, watching sunset. A young couple stops and takes a selfie. “Would you like me to take your picture?” Luna volunteers.
“That would be great!”
Luna hops up and takes the girl’s phone and snaps the picture of the couple. “Here you go. I took a few you can choose from.”
“Thank you! Would you like me to take a picture of you and your dad?” The teenager eyes me.
“Daddy, let’s take a picture!” Luna tells me with a devious look in her eyes, and my dick twitches.
I consider tossing everyone off the boardwalk, but instead, I grab Luna’s hand, pulling her along.
“Maybe next time,” Luna calls over her shoulder with a laugh. “Oh come on, that was funny,” she tells me.
I ignore her as we weave in and out of people, making it back to my SUV. “Why are you mad?”
“I’m not mad.”
Oh, but I am mad.At myself. I don’t know why I thought having a good time with my ward was in any way appropriate. The lines are already blurred with us living together; no need to take a pressure washer to them.
As for why my dick thought it was a good idea to twitch when Luna called me Daddy, I’m gonna pretend thatneverhappened.
Chapter
Sixteen
Luna
Refreshing my email for the hundredth time, there’s still no word from the Chess Hall. I tell myself it’s only been twenty-four hours, and to give it time.
Vince joins me. “Morning,” he says coolly.
“Am I allowed to eat cereal, or is force-feeding me on your agenda this morning?” I bring the spoon to my mouth and slurp obnoxiously. We had such a fun day yesterday, until Vince’s mood turned to shit. So I’ll see his bad mood and raise him a bad attitude. I racked my brain to try and figure out if I did something to piss him off, but for once, I was on my best behavior.Not that I care,I remind myself.
Vince looks like he has some wiseass comment on the tip of his tongue, but his phone vibrates, and he grabs it from his suit pocket. Reading the message, he announces, “I’ve got some things I need to handle this morning.”
“Shaking down poor souls?” I ask.
“Your tutor will be here at eight. Have you heard from the Chess Hall?”
“No,” I mumble.
“It’s only been twenty-four hours. Give it time,” he says, pouring himself a cup of coffee.
Get out of my head!
“I spoke to your coach this morning,” he continues. “One-on-one training starts next week. As I said before, once you’re accepted to the Chess Hall, we’ll figure out the logistics.”
I grin from ear to ear. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me, and don’tblameme when your time ‘under my thumb’ gets extended. Five hundred an hour is gonna add up quick.”
“I understand that,” I tell him. “But it’s a necessary investment.”
He crosses his arms. “That remains to be seen.”
“Fool’s mate,” I remind him. “You pay for what you get.”
