Page 50 of Logan

I know women want to sleep with me. They want my money, they want my status. But to spend time with me? Never.

Georgina made that crystal clear. It’s impossible to love me, she said, and I know she’s right.

I shift my gaze to the passing scenery outside.

Right now, I need Sloane’s help to close the deal today, so whatever she’s planning, I need to pretend I believe her act in order to get through tonight.

My phone buzzes, and I glance at the screen.

Aiden Wolfson

My wife prefers we go on a double date at a club. Hope you don’t mind. Sending you the location now.

The message with the club’s address arrives immediately after.

Hope you don’t mind.

It’s not like he left me any choice here.

I exhale loudly, and Sloane turns her face to me.

“Did something happen?”

“The dinner meeting? Wolfson wants to move it to a club.”

“Okay. What’s the problem?”

“I don’t like places like that.”

“You mean places with people? Yeah, I noticed.” She smiles. “You’re a real people-person, huh? But I think it’s better this way. A little alcohol and dancing will help you soften them up.”

“I don’t dance.”

“Why am I not surprised?” Her smile widens. “Don’t worry, I love to dance.”

“I want to convince him to close a deal. A club is not the right place for that.” I close my eyes.

As if it wasn’t enough that he involved his wife in this, now he’s turned it into a double date. A fuckingdate. We’re businessmen. What does this club have to do with anything? How am I supposed to sell him on the idea in a noisy club? What exactly am I supposed to do while he’s dancing with his wife?

“We’re going to be late,” I call out to Sloane’s closed bedroom door.

“Just another minute!”

My nerves are stretched thin, and the nagging throbs of a headache are already pounding at my temples.

I’m sure Wolfson won’t be impressed if he and his wife have to wait for us just because Sloane can’t decide what to wear.

I breathe a sigh of relief when the door finally opens, and she emerges.

I hold my breath. She’s wearing a black lace dress with a nude lining that makes her look half-naked even though she’s fully clothed. The dress clings like a second skin, accentuating every curve of her body, and damn, does this woman have curves. Her smooth legs are bare, encased in particularly high red stilettos.

Fuck me.

I blink as an image of her naked with just the heels on her feet pops into my mind, and it takes a lot of effort to keep my face frozen. This woman undoes me in ways I didn’t expect.

I harden my expression. “Ready?”

She nods.