Page 70 of Logan

The rest of breakfast passes with Logan more distracted than I’ve ever seen him. I catch him glancing at his phone several times, worry etched in the lines around his eyes.

Apparently, even the infamous playboy Lucas can’t charm his way out of whatever storm is brewing in the Valeur family.

“So, where are we going today?” I ask, excitement buzzing through my veins at the prospect of spending the day exploring London with him.

“You’ll just have to wait until this evening to find out,” he replies with a mysterious half-smile, his eyes glinting.

“Ugh, fine. Keep your secrets.” I pout. “So...seeing as we’re going to pretend to be a couple one more time, can I ask you some more getting-to-know-you questions?”

“Questions?”

“Yeah, to continue our little question game from before. If we’re going to keep up this ‘couple’ charade, maybe we should continue to learn about each other. Dinner at their house sounds like something that will require actual conversation to pull off.”

“Fair enough,” Logan concedes with a slight dip of his chin. “Fire away.”

“Well, for starters, where are we going later?” I try again, batting my lashes in a terrible attempt at coquettish flirting.

“Nice try,” he snorts, rolling his eyes. “I already answered that question. Wait. Until. This. Evening.” He over-enunciates each word, his expression hardening into a façade of sternness. “And you just wasted a question.”

I stick my tongue out at him. “That’s not fair.”

Logan chuckles, a rich, warm sound that sends pleasant shivers cascading down my spine. “Not my fault,” he says with a shrug. “What’s your idea of the perfect date?”

“Are you asking because you don’t have plans for tonight and want to know what to do?” I finish the last piece and place my hands on my stuffed belly.

He remains silent, pinning me with his gaze.

“Fine. The perfect date... I’m pretty romantic at heart, so it would have to be romantic.”

“Yeah, I think I figured that out already.”

“A night under the stars. Soft music playing, maybe some slow dancing. Delicious food and wine. And then just lying together on a blanket, gazing up at a velvet sky full of twinkling stars while…” My voice hitches. “While my head rests on the chest of the man I love as he holds me close and whispers sweet words in my ear.” I swallow past the sudden lump inmy throat, embarrassed by the raw yearning bleeding into my voice. “That would be the best date ever.”

Logan just watches me, his expression simultaneously soft and shuttered, giving nothing away.

“Okay, my turn now,” I say, desperate to lighten the moment. “What’s more important to you—love or money?”

“Money. Obviously,” he replies without hesitation, his face a stoic mask once more.

“You’re not serious.” I straighten.

“I’m always serious.”

“But… how can you possibly value cold, hard cash over the warmth of real love?” I shake my head.

“Because the brutal truth is most people will never experience that kind of deep, true love. Oh, they might convince themselves for a while that they’ve found their soulmate, but it’s just a pretty illusion that inevitably crumbles in the end, leaving nothing but scars behind.”

Weariness settles over his handsome features like a shroud. “I always thought my parents had that coveted once-in-a-lifetime love, you know? But then, in those final few years before the accident, my mom could barely stand to look at my dad anymore as if the mere sight of him caused her physical pain.”

A muscle in his jaw ticks, grief and long-buried anger warring in the depths of his haunted blue eyes.

“I learned the hard way that love, even the strongest one, is a volatile, fleeting thing. A mirage that slips through your fingers like smoke, no matter how desperately you try to hold on.”

“But money can’t buy happiness either,” I counter softly,reaching out to cover his fisted hand with my own. “And it sure as hell can’t fill the empty spaces in your soul.”

Logan huffs a mirthless chuckle, his mouth twisting into a pained approximation of a smile.

“No, I suppose not. But at least money is a tangible constant you can depend on. Love? Love is just a pretty fiction I’ve long since stopped aspiring to.”