Page 35 of Logan (The Valeur Billionaires #1)

She fills my every thought, my entire day, an unshakable presence in my mind. I’m going crazy.

I get out of the car and head up to her apartment, taking the stairs two at a time. I hold a container of soup from the restaurant in one hand, the warmth seeping through the plastic and into my palm. I raise my other hand and knock on the door, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway.

I knock again, louder this time, impatience rising in my throat. My hand is still raised in the air when the door swings open, and I freeze, the words dying on my tongue.

“Who are you?” I ask, my brow furrowing as I take in the unfamiliar man standing in the doorway. He’s tall, with dark hair and a chiseled jaw, and he’s wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung sweatpants.

“Who are you?” The man returns my question, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

“Isn’t this Sloane Harris’s apartment?” I glance at the number on the door again, doubt creeping in. Maybe I made a mistake, maybe I got turned around in the unfamiliar building .

“Yes. I’m her boyfriend. What do you need?” He leans against the doorframe, his posture casual but his eyes sharp.

Her boyfriend? The words hit me like a punch to the gut, stealing my breath. “Sloane doesn’t have a boyfriend,” I say with more conviction than I feel, my mind reeling.

“Yes, she does. Not that it’s any of your business, but we were a couple in the past, and we got back together.”

“Johnny?” I guess, the name bitter on my tongue. This is the asshole. The one she bought the condoms for. The one she’s been... My field of vision turns red, a hot rush of anger surging through my veins.

He widens his eyes, surprise flickering over his face. “Yeah, how did you know?”

“I need to see Sloane.” I take a step forward, my jaw clenched so tight it aches.

“Who are you, and why do you need to see her?” He doesn’t budge, his posture shifting subtly into something more defensive.

“I’m her boss.”

“The one who asked her to come in with a fever?” His eyes narrow, contempt written clear across his face.

I grind my teeth, the muscle in my jaw jumping. “Let me in. Now.”

“She’s resting right now. She’s not interested in visitors.”

I place my hand on the door, leaning in close. I’ll give it to this guy, he has guts. Most people would’ve folded at my first sentence, wilting under the force of my glare. “And I said I need to see her.”

Johnny licks his lips. “She’s sleeping. You want to wake her up? It’s not enough you demanded she come in, and she nearly passed out. Now you also want to disturb her rest and recovery? I’m sure a complaint can be filed for something like that.”

You can shove that complaint up your ass, I want to snarl. I want to knock him out of the way, barrel past him and find Sloane. I want to wrap my arms around her and never let go.

“Move out of my way, or I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

I’m about to shove him, consequences be damned, when Sloane appears behind him, her hair mussed and her face pale. She’s swimming in an oversized t-shirt, her slim legs bare. “What are you doing here?”

“Sorry, honey, I didn’t want him to wake you, but he’s stubborn.” Johnny smiles at her.

I could swear I see a flicker of amusement pass through her eyes.

“I know he’s stubborn.” She turns back to Johnny. “Give us a moment.”

Johnny grumbles but heads to the kitchen, staying within earshot.

Sloane steps outside and closes the door behind her, her arms wrapped around her middle. She looks small and fragile, and my fingers itch with the need to touch her.

“What are you doing here, Logan?”

“I wanted to see if you’re okay.”

“Well, now you’ve seen. I’m sick, sure, but I’m not going to die or anything. Everything’s fine. You can go now.”

“Who is he?” I jerk my chin toward the closed door, jealousy a living thing in my chest.

“That’s none of your business.”

“So, you’re sleeping with him now?” The question bursts out of me, hot and accusing. I’m about to explode out of my skin. If I wasn’t afraid of her reaction, I’d storm back in there and kill the guy on the spot, wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until the life drained from his eyes.

“Again, none of your business.”

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the rage boiling in my blood. “I brought you soup.” I hold out the bag, a peace offering.

“Thanks.” She reaches out to take it, her fingers brushing against mine.

I don’t let go of the bag, keeping my hand on hers, stroking the soft skin of her palm with my thumb. The touch is gentle, almost imperceptible, just a light graze of hands, but despite that, it feels more intimate than a kiss, more revealing than an embrace.

I hold my breath, trying to stop this moment, freeze it in amber and live inside it forever. God, how I miss her. Miss her touch, her scent, the sound of her voice. It’s a physical ache in my chest, a yawning chasm of longing.

I’ve fallen hard, so damn hard, and I don’t know how to get back up.

“I’m sorry about this morning, I thought?—”

She pulls her hand back, and the moment shatters.

“You thought I was a liar.”

“I’m sorry. That was a mistake, I...”

“You what?” She tilts her head, her eyes boring into mine.

I was jealous. I’m jealous, Sloane, I’m fucking losing it thinking about that guy touching you, kissing you, being with you in all the ways I long to.

I want to pull out his fingernails one by one for daring to lay a hand on you and then gouge out his eyes for looking at you with desire .

I want to erase every trace of him from your body, your mind, your heart. I want to replace every memory of him with me until I’m all you can think about, all you can feel.

The words scream inside my head, clawing at my throat, but I swallow them back and stay silent.

“That’s what I thought. Just go, Logan.” She turns away, her hand on the doorknob. “Thanks for the soup.”