Chapter 527: Chapter 527

After a moment of small talk with the owner, she began the long walk toward my table. I stood, moving to the other side of the booth to pull back the heavy chair for her. She remained silent as she sat, her movements fluid and silent. I returned to my spot, resting my elbow on the white linen tablecloth. So far, so good. I’d expected it to be a train wreck of awkwardness, but we were both playing the part of "civilized" perfectly.

A waitress appeared at the table like a ghost, her voice a hushed whisper. "Good evening. May I take your order, or perhaps start you with a bottle from our cellar?"

Carrie didn’t even look at the menu. "The Beluga caviar to start, followed by the wagyu tartare. And a bottle of the ’45 Krug."

The waitress scribbled furiously, then turned to me. I glanced at the prices, numbers that looked like phone extensions, and cleared my throat. I mean, I could afford it, sure, but... naah. Fuck that noise.

"I’ll just... have a sparkling water. For now."

"Right away, sir."

I let out a slow exhale once she vanished, nodding to myself. "You seem good, Carrie. Rested."

"Yes. I took some time off from everything," she replied, her voice cool and steady. She finally slid her sunglasses off, revealing eyes that were sharper than I remembered. "I guess you could say I discovered a different side of myself during the hiatus."

"Glad to hear it... I guess," I replied.

"Mm."

I shifted in my seat, suddenly aware of the eyes on us. A few tables over, a woman was pretending to check her makeup in a compact, but the lens of her phone was aimed straight at Carrie—and by extension, me. My skin crawled.

"I, uh," I began, leaning in closer to keep my voice low. "I have a favor to ask—"

"I called in someone as well," she interrupted, cutting me off with a flick of her wrist. "Someone who was quite adamant about meeting you."

I frowned. "Okay... who is he?"

"She," Carrie corrected. "Her name’s Luna. I met her while I was staying at my summer house."

"Right..." I mumbled. "Why the hell does she want to meet me?"

"She saw... the recordings," Carrie stated flatly. "The ones I took of us. In that hotel room."

My heart skipped a beat, and not in the good way. "Recordings? What recordings?"

"I thought I’d record our sessions to... well, I don’t know. Sentiment? Curiosity? I didn’t tell you because I knew your ego wouldn’t like being on camera without a script," she explained, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

"You masturbated to them, didn’t you?" I asked, my voice flat.

She exhaled sharply, clearing her throat as a faint, rare flush touched her cheeks. "Maybe. That is neither here nor there."

"Wow. Unhinged."

"Anyway," she continued, regaining her composure. "Luna saw them. It was an accident."

"An accident?"

"I was showing her a picture of the new velvet couch I’d bought on my phone," Carrie explained, her eyes darting toward the hallway. "I swiped to the right and... that video played. It was on full volume. I nearly died of embarrassment, but she... well, she didn’t seem appalled. In fact, she took it quite well."

"Okay... that is easily the wildest shit I’ve heard all week," I said, rubbing my temples. "Is she actually coming here tonight?"

"She’s already here. She just went to check her makeup. She was standing right behind me when I walked in."

"Hmm..." I leaned back, my mind racing. If this Luna had seen what I did to Carrie and still wanted to meet me, she was either a saint or just as twisted as the rest of us.

"Speak of the devil," Carrie whispered.

I looked toward the restroom corridor, wondering just what kind of woman considered a leaked sex tape an appropriate introduction.

I shifted my weight as a figure emerged from the corridor, cutting through the golden ambiance of the dining room like a streak of moonlight against the dark wood. She was striking like a high-end vision in silver. Her hair was a long, shimmering curtain of platinum that cascaded over her shoulders, framing a face that remained unnervingly calm.

She was tall, carrying herself with an effortless, liquid grace in a dress that left very little to the imagination. The silver silk was cut dangerously low, the thin straps barely holding the fabric over her heavy curves, while a thigh-high slit revealed a glimpse of lace at the top of her stocking every time she took a step. It was a look that didn’t just command attention—it demanded total silence. Even the emerald silk on Carrie Beldenwary seemed understated compared to the way this woman filled out the revealing lines of her gown.

As she reached the table, I stood up, the legs of my chair scraping softly against the marble. I pulled back the seat next to Carrie, gesturing for her to sit.

"Thank you," she said, her voice a low, steady hum that felt like it resonated in her chest.

"Luna, this is Evan. Evan, meet Luna," Carrie introduced, her tone light, though her eyes remained fixed on me to catch my reaction.

"Nice to meet you," I said, offering a curt nod as I settled back into my spot. Luna simply inclined her head, her expression unreadable.

"Likewise."

I cleared my throat, leaning forward and resting my forearms on the table. The luxury of the room felt like a distraction I couldn’t afford.

"I actually had an important matter to discuss, Carrie. I need a favor from you. An urgent one."

Carrie arched a perfectly groomed eyebrow, reaching for her water glass. "A favor? You usually just take what you want, Evan. This is a change of pace."

"Jack Kuinn," I said, ignoring the jab. "Does the name ring any bells?"

Carrie paused, her glass halfway to her lips. "Yeah... the Uptown chick. I know of her, though we’ve never actually spoken."

"Wait, ’her’?" I frowned, my mind flashing back to the disheveled man I’d seen in the lobby.

"What do you call her type? A femboy?" Carrie shrugged, her emerald dress shimmering as she shifted. "She’s a man, basically, but she plays the part of a girl when it suits her. Very ’Uptown’ aesthetic."

"Huh... I see," I muttered, the pieces of the puzzle shifting.

"What do you want from her?" Carrie asked, her gaze sharpening.

"I just want to talk, is all," I replied, keeping my voice level.

Carrie let out a dry, melodic chuckle that drew a few eyes from the neighboring tables. "I didn’t know you liked cute boys, Evan. Is there something you haven’t told me?"

I felt a flash of irritation and leaned in, my voice dropping an octave. "He... she... whatever. Jack is threatening a very dear friend of mine. Trying to coerce her into sending nudes. I can’t let that happen. It ends now."

"Ah... yes. She is twisted like that," Carrie said, her flippant tone chilling. She leaned back, tapping a manicured nail against the tablecloth. "But, as it happens, I also have a favor to ask. A trade, if you will."