Page 14 of Logan (The Valeur Billionaires #1)

Chapter Twelve

SLOANE

I slurp up a heavenly forkful of pasta slathered in pesto and cheese while Logan pokes at his ravioli with his fork.

I have no idea why he ordered that dish because it doesn’t look like he has any intention of eating it. I peek at him out of the corner of my eye.

I can’t believe I called him grumpy. I have no control over my mouth, and for some reason, my verbal blunders are worse than usual when I’m around him. If I still have a job when we get back, it’ll be a miracle. Better to keep quiet from now on.

“Did you know that if a female ferret is not mated when she comes into heat she dies?”

Logan coughs. “Okay. That’s good to know.”

“I’m sorry. I just—" I lower my eyes. I just blurt out whatever my mind thinks with no filters whatsoever.

Logan isn’t eating, but he sips a little of the wine we ordered, the most expensive on the menu, which he ordered without hesitation. We’re sitting in a secluded corner booth in the restaurant that Logan more or less demanded from the poor hostess.

He really doesn’t need to yell. She took one look at his face and gloomy expression and immediately directed us here. I would’ve preferred to sit by the window, but Logan prefers that as few people as possible see him or he them.

So friendly .

Still, I prefer his company over wandering alone all day. Being alone at home is bearable, but being alone on a trip in London, with no one to share the experiences with, made me feel so...lonely.

And I don’t feel lonely when I’m with Logan.

I glance at him again.

He pulled out the chair for me when we reached the table. I can’t remember the last time a man did something like that for me. Probably never.

Logan stares at his plate and moves the fork around the food.

Book boyfriends aren’t supposed to care about what they eat or their weight, and they’re supposed to be thrilled that the woman they’re with loves to eat and doesn’t order a salad, but he’s not touching his food and doesn’t seem impressed by my food choices either.

Shit. He probably thinks I’m a big fat pig. I try to slow my pace and appear more graceful, but I’m just too hungry. I’ve already consumed half a bottle of wine from the stress, and my head is spinning. I should stop, especially since Logan looks completely sober.

I take another sip .

“I’m sorry I said you were grumpy earlier. I’m just so nervous.”

“Why are you nervous?”

“Because... Because...you’re you.”

He tilts his head. “You said you weren’t afraid of me.”

“Not exactly afraid, but I keep thinking I’m going to do something stupid and you’ll fire me, and I love working at Valeur.

They appreciate me there. And then, from being so stressed about you firing me, I end up doing stupid things that’ll get me fired.

” I fall silent or try to, but my mouth just won’t quit. “See, I babbled again.”

“I’m not going to fire you. I’m glad you like working for us. You’re the star employee.”

“Even star employees get fired if they insult the boss.”

“I’m not easy to insult. Believe me, I’ve heard it all.”

“I’m sure...” I mutter. He must be aware of the rumors about him. His nicknames. But that doesn’t mean he’s not offended.

I’m sure he has a heart in there somewhere.

“What about dinner tomorrow?”

“What about it?”

“What if I babble from the stress, and say something inappropriate, and ruin the meeting?” I fidget with my napkin, twisting it between my fingers. “You won’t fire me even then?”

Logan leans forward, his intense gaze meeting mine. “I won’t fire you under any circumstances. We’ve already agreed on that.”

I let out a shaky breath. “I’m still terribly nervous.”

“Okay.” He sits back, his brow furrowed in thought. “ What can I do to make you feel more comfortable?” He sets down his fork with a soft clink against the plate.

An idea sparks in my mind. “Maybe if I get to know you better? If you tell me more about yourself?”

“Like what?” He raises an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

I lick my lips, my mouth suddenly dry, and try to think of something. “Let’s play the game twenty-one questions. Each one takes a turn thinking of a question, and the other answers honestly. No lying allowed.”

His piercing blue gaze fixes on me, unreadable as always. He’s a master at hiding emotions—if he even has any. Have I gone too far?

“I won’t tell anyone what you tell me. What happens in London stays in London. Promise.” I cross my fingers, holding them up for him to see.

A moment of silence stretches between us before he nods. “Alright. Ask me whatever you want.” He folds his arms across his broad chest, the fabric of his suit straining.

“Hmmm...” I tap my chin, trying to think of an interesting question. Something that will reveal a little bit about the enigma sitting across from me. It’s not every day I get a chance to ask Logan Valeur anything I want. “What’s your favorite band?”

“Current or all-time?” he asks, tilting his head.

“All-time.”

“Then Led Zeppelin. ‘Stairway to Heaven’ is the best song ever written.” His answer is immediate and certain.

I blink. “Surprising.”

“Why?”

“Because the song is about the over-materialistic society, and you’re the CEO of a tech company and a billionaire ,” I emphasize, gesturing toward him.

“True,” he acknowledges with a slight nod, “but that doesn’t mean I don’t think the song is right. That’s why I always try to use my resources to do good in the world and to invest in research for products that will help humanity. Like your product, Sloane.” His voice softens as he says my name.

I swallow hard, my heart skipping a beat. Everything he says always sounds so...personal, like he’s sharing a piece of himself.

I take a sip of wine for courage. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve ever done?”

“Okay. Tough question.” He rubs his chin, considering. “I guess the high school incident. One of my math teachers gave me a lower grade than I thought I deserved, so I bought piles of condoms and taped them all over his car.”

A mischievous glint appears in his eyes at the memory, and I can’t help but laugh, the image of a teenage Logan on a condom-taping rampage popping into my head. “I wouldn’t have thought you had that kind of mischievous streak in you.”

He tilts his head. “What’s the craziest thing you’ve done?”

“Is that your question?” I tease.

“Yes.”

My cheeks heat. “You’ll be disappointed because I’m a nerd and always have been. The craziest thing I’ve done was sleep with a guy on the first date. And it was awful. I’ve never done that again.” I look down, suddenly fascinated by the tablecloth.

When I glance back up, Logan’s face has hardened, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “How many men have you slept with?” His voice is low, almost a growl .

My eyes widen at the personal question. But I did say no lying allowed. “Is that your second question?”

“Yes.” He doesn’t blink.

“Three,” I answer honestly, my voice small.

Something flashes in his eyes before he asks, “Have you ever been in love?”

I let out a nervous laugh. “You’re going to owe me a lot of questions at the end.” I smile, trying to lighten the suddenly intense mood. “I thought I was in love with Johnny, my last boyfriend, and I thought he was in love with me.”

“You thought?” Logan’s brow furrows.

I nod, a lump forming in my throat at the painful memory. “Yeah. But I was wrong.” I shrug, trying to seem unaffected.

Logan’s large hand suddenly covers mine on the table, his skin warm. “He’s an idiot then,” Logan says, his deep voice soft but firm. “His loss entirely.”

A wave of heat rushes through me at his touch, awakening something deep within. This is inappropriate. What’s come over me?

Stop it.

I pull my hand back, immediately missing his warmth. “Now it’s my turn.” I clear my throat, trying to regain my composure.

My gaze darts to his defined chest beneath his shirt before meeting his smoldering eyes. “How many women have you slept with?” I blurt out, emboldened by the wine and the intimate conversation.

Logan’s intense blue eyes pierce into mine. “Ten.”

“That’s it?”

“I didn’t know I was in a competition.” He arches an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his voice .

My cheeks heat. “I didn’t say that. It just seems like a low number for a man your age who looks like... Well, like you.” I gesture toward him, my eyes inadvertently trailing over his chiseled features and muscular frame.

“I guess being grumpy doesn’t appeal to the ladies.” The corner of his mouth quirks up in a half-smile, his blue eyes glinting.

Touché.

Maybe I should change the subject to something a bit less...sexual because my body is enjoying this direction far too much, and that’s not good. Not good at all.

“What’s your favorite dessert?” I ask, lifting my wine glass for a sip.

He’s silent for a moment, considering. Then, in a low, husky voice, he replies, “I don’t eat desserts, so I guess my favorite dessert would be a woman’s...pussy.”

I sputter, nearly choking on the wine.

Fuck.

I exhale sharply and tilt my head back, my mind reeling.

Good Lord. I can’t believe he just said that to me.

And now, the only thing I can picture is his head between my thighs.

I think it’s best if I stop asking questions because it seems no matter what I ask, everything is turning thick and explosive.

I grab another forkful of pasta and shove it into my mouth to keep myself from speaking.

“Everything okay? Do you like your meal?” He glances up at me, his brow furrowed.

I nod, swallowing. “Yes, it’s excellent. How’s yours?” He hasn’t touched his food, and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know what it tastes like.

I load up more noodles and slurp them in, keeping my eyes down, but I can feel Logan’s gaze burning into me.

“Do I have pesto in my teeth?” I ask.

“No, why?”

“Because you’re looking at me weird. Did I get something on me?” I dab at my mouth with my napkin.

He leans forward, his large hand reaching out. His thumb gently grazes my lower lip, the rough pad sending a shiver down my spine.

My eyes widen as I stare into the icy pools of his, surprised to find them looking almost...warm?

Oh God. When he looks at me like that, I’m like melting butter. I press my thighs together, heat spreading from my face downward, flooding my body.

Without thinking, I lean my cheek into his palm, nuzzling him. His hand is large and warm.

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. I part my lips, and he slides his thumb into my mouth, brushing it over my teeth.

“Sloane...” he whispers, his eyes smoldering into mine.

The sound sends a tremor through me, causing my stomach to clench. And then he’s pulling his hand away, and I nearly pitch forward at the loss of contact.

My pulse pounds in my ears. What just happened?

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “No. That did not just happen. What the hell did I just do?” he mutters, rising to his feet and raking his fingers through his hair again, messing it.

It was the sexiest moment of my life, but it doesn’t appear he feels the same.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t know what came over me. That was a mistake. I didn’t mean to touch you. I’m so sorry. Please accept my apology.” He picks up his glass and drains it in one swig.

“Logan?” My voice wavers.

“I’m not interested in you that way. I must have had too much to drink,” he continues, tearing the moment to shreds. “I’ll wait outside until you’re done. Take your time.” He throws a few bills on the table and hurries out.

I sit there for a few minutes, trying to gather the remaining shreds of my dignity. My appetite is gone, which never happens. I set my fork down and stare at the empty spot across from me.

He touched me, and it was erotic as shit. Then he left. Not just left, fled. As if I disgusted him.

Apparently, you need to be drunk to want to touch me.

I exit the restaurant and find him leaning against the stone wall across the street, watching me, scowling more than usual.

“I called my driver,” Logan informs me, completely ignoring what happened minutes ago. “He’ll be here in ten minutes.”

I nod. “Thanks, but I think I’ll take the bus.” I glance at him again, hoping to see his face soften, to show some emotion. Anything. But he’s reverted back to the scowling dark lord.

“The driver will be here any minute,” he reiterates, his voice flat.

“I’ll manage. Thank you again.” I turn and start toward the nearest bus stop. There’s no way I’m spending an hour in a closed car with Logan while he’s in this mood.

He catches my arm, stopping me. “We said we’d go back by car.”

I shoot a pointed look at his hand gripping my arm, and he releases me. “You’ll go back by car. I prefer to be alone right now.”

His pupils widen slightly. “What happened just now had nothing to do with you."

“Then who did it have to do with? The waitress?” I snap, hurt flaring in my chest.

He falls silent, his jaw clenching.

He may not have meant to hurt me, but he certainly succeeded. I thought that after the humiliation Johnny put me through, I would develop a thicker skin, but apparently not.

“See you later,” I mutter, wrapping my arms around myself.

I stride toward the bus stop, blinking back a sudden sting of tears. I shouldn’t let him get to me like this, but that moment in the restaurant... It felt real. The way he looked at me, touched me. I can still feel the imprint of his fingers on my skin, the heat of his gaze.

I shake my head, trying to clear the memories. It doesn’t matter. He made it clear that whatever that was, it meant nothing to him. Just a stupid mistake.