Under the glazing moonlight, a woman stood on the balcony, letting her ash-grey hair dance with the cold breeze as she sipped from a glass of red wine. Wrapped in a black silk night robe, she stared at the striking moon. Her heart thudded rapidly as memories forced themselves back.
My Luna.
Her blood simmered in anger as she took another gulp. After what happened yesterday at Lune d'Or, she couldn't stop thinking about him. She thought she was done—numb—after six years. But her heart betrayed her. The scene from the past flashed relentlessly in her mind.
She massaged her temples, trying to forget that stupid memory. Pain was no longer part of her agenda. After everything she had endured, her thoughts about love had twisted. Love was nothing but a distraction for a woman with goals carved in gold.
