Page 130 of Logan

Chapter Thirty-Seven

LOGAN

Iwake slowly, my limbs heavy and languid against the soft sheets. For a moment, I’m disoriented, my mind fuzzy as I blink up at the unfamiliar wooden beams of the ceiling.Where am I?

Then the memories of the previous day come rushing back in a dizzying flood—the confessions, the kisses, the way our bodies moved together in a desperate tangle of heat and need.

I roll over, my heart in my throat, suddenly terrified it was all a dream.

But no, there she is—Sloane, her hair a wild tangle on the pillow, the sheet riding low on her hips to reveal the sweet curve of her waist. She’s breathtaking in the hazy morning light, her skin golden against the white linens, and the sight of her steals the air from my lungs.

My phone vibrates on the nightstand, and I reach for it with a groan. The screen flashes with Lucas’s name. At thishour? I debate letting it go to voicemail, but my brother rarely calls without a reason.

“This better be good,” I answer, keeping my voice low and walking out of the bedroom to avoid waking Sloane beside me.

“Good morning to you too, sunshine,” Lucas’s voice comes through, a mix of irritation and his trademark sarcasm. “Or is it afternoon there? I can never keep track with the time difference.”

I check the clock: 6:12 AM. “It’s dawn, you asshole.”

“Perfect timing. I just closed the Singapore deal. Largest tech infrastructure contract in their history.”

I know Lucas well enough to hear the edge of frustration beneath his boasting. “Let me guess. Dad’s not impressed?”

Lucas lets out a harsh laugh. “I literally restructured their entire communication network. Projected savings of fourty million over five years. But all Dad can talk about is how the board doesn’t ‘approve of my public image.’”

“Doesn’t approve?” I ask, knowing exactly what he means.

“Apparently, my ‘lifestyle’ is ‘concerning.’” He mimics Dad’s serious tone. “Never mind that I’m consistently delivering record-breaking results. No, let’s focus on the fact that I enjoy life between deals.”

“You mean that photo of you with the models that made the business section?”

“It was the society pages, thank you very much. And they’re not just models—Katarina is also a quantum physicist. We had a fascinating discussion about string theory.”

I hear the real frustration now. Lucas has always beenmore serious than his playboy image suggests. Brilliant. Driven. Just different from me.

“The board wants me to ‘settle down,’” he continues. “As if my personal life has anything to do with my professional performance. I closed the Singapore deal. I’m killing it in Hong Kong. But somehow, that’s not enough.”

“What does Dad specifically want?” I ask.

“Marriage. Respectability. Less... me.” Lucas’s voice drops, losing its usual bravado. “They want me to be you. Buttoned-up. Serious. As if there’s only one way to be successful.”

I can hear the genuine hurt beneath the sarcasm. Lucas works harder than anyone realizes.

“How do you make them see you’re serious?” he asks, a rare moment of vulnerability slipping through.

“Results,” I say. “The numbers speak for themselves.”

“I deliver results. In spades.”

“Then maybe the problem isn’t your results, but how people perceive you. Perception matters in business.”

“So you’re saying I should just pretend to settle down?”

“I’m saying you need to decide what matters more—the freedom to do whatever you want, or proving you’re the right person to eventually take over.”

There’s an unexpected pause on the line. When Lucas speaks again, his voice has lost its bravado. “The company means more to me than anyone realizes. Then I let on.”

“I know that,” I mumble.