Page 36 of Logan (The Valeur Billionaires #1)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

SLOANE

“ B oo!”

I jump out of my chair, my heart leaping into my throat, and my phone slips from my fingers, clattering to the floor.

“Fuck Emery, you scared me.” I press a hand to my heaving chest, trying to calm my racing pulse.

“That was the point, dummy.” She grins, unrepentant, and bends down to retrieve the fallen device. “You were so absorbed that the moment asked for it. What’s so interesting?” she asks, looking down at the screen of my phone.

“No!” I lunge at her, making a wild grab for the phone, but she’s too quick. She dances out of reach, her eyes already glued to the screen, eyebrows climbing toward her hairline. “Is that Logan Valeur?”

I purse my lips and nod, feeling heat crawl up my neck.

“Hard to recognize him like that when his face is on this woman's lips. I didn’t know he was even capable of showing affection.” She laughs and flips through the photos, each swipe of her finger like a knife to my gut.

“Oh, there are a lot of pictures of them. Wow, she’s gorgeous.

Is that the same one he was photographed with a few months ago? ”

“I don’t know,” I lie. I already searched her name. And searched for the previous photo. Same one. And here he is, sitting in a posh restaurant with her, the same day he told me I’ll always be his business, his lips glued to this perfect woman.

I know it shouldn’t hurt. He’s made it clear on multiple occasions that he’s not interested in continuing our...whatever it was, but my stomach flips. I think I’m going to be sick again.

“Why do you look like you ate a frog? I thought you were feeling better.” Emery cocks her head, concern overtaking the mischief in her gaze.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” I wave a dismissive hand, pasting on a smile so fake it hurts my cheeks.

“Yeah? Because if you want to take another day to rest, after what happened in the meeting the other day, I’m sure Liam would approve it.” She perches on the edge of my desk.

“What do you know about what happened at the meeting?”

“Nothing.” She blinks, innocence flickering over her face. “Just that everyone came back, and you weren’t there, so I asked Liam where you were. He said Logan sent you home because you weren’t feeling well, and he asked anyone not feeling well to not come in so they wouldn’t infect others.”

Of course, he put the blame on me. Asshole. I grit my teeth, anger flaring hot in my chest. “I’m fine. I don’t have a fever anymore, otherwise I wouldn’t have come back. Johnny took care of me the two days I missed.”

Johnny. Who fussed over me like a mother hen, made me tea and took care of me, but every touch from him made me cringe like I was cheating.

I know it makes no sense. But even Logan’s simple touches set me on fire, made me feel more alive than I ever have, and with Johnny.

.. Nothing. Just a vague sense of discomfort and wrongness.

“Yeah...Johnny. You told me he showed up. So spill. How did that happen? You said you’d never forgive him, and suddenly you’re all lovey-dovey, and he’s playing nurse?”

“No. I mean, yes. I don’t know.” I rake a hand through my hair. “We’re not lovey-dovey. I didn’t do anything with him. He just took care of me when I was sick. I guess I was too weak to resist. He was gentle and attentive, but nothing happened.”

“You really think he’s changed? You’re willing to give him another chance?” Skepticism drips from her every word.

“I don’t know.” I shrug. “He wants me to go on a date with him. Start over.”

“You could invite him to the gala. It would be a date, but with people around, so you could scope him out without having to be stuck alone with him.”

“Gala?” I furrow my brow, casting my mind to upcoming events and coming up blank.

“The company event this weekend. Didn’t you see the invite?” She stares at me like I’ve grown a second head.

“Shit.” The invite was emailed yesterday when I was sick.

I saw the headline but didn’t look at the details.

Logan will probably bring that blonde bombshell with him, and I’ll have to spend the whole evening watching him shove his tongue down her throat, his hands roaming over her perfect body. My stomach churns at the thought.

“It’s this weekend?”

“Yep. And it’s a plus-one invite, though I’ll be coming alone, as always. So, are you planning to come alone, or will you invite him?”

“Who?” My pulse quickens. She can’t be talking about Logan.

“Johnny. Who did you think I was talking about? Do you have another guy in the pipeline I don’t know about?” She narrows her eyes.

I bite the inside of my cheek. Yes. Johnny. Of course. “I guess so,” I say, my voice flat and lifeless even to my own ears. I can’t show up to the event alone. I need to show Logan I’ve moved on, too, even if it’s a lie.

“I wouldn’t take Johnny back if I were you. You had to leave your job because of him, for fuck’s sake. Where’s your spine?”

Gone, apparently, along with my heart and my dignity, sacrificed on the altar of Logan Fucking Valeur. “I haven’t agreed to take him back. It’s just a date.”

Emery shakes her head, her expression a mix of pity and exasperation, and she walks away. I turn back to my work, my thoughts racing everywhere except the task at hand, chasing themselves in circles like a dog after its own tail.

Almost against my will, I pick up my phone again and peek at the pictures of Logan and that woman, a fresh wave of nausea washing over me with each incriminating frame.

Fuck, why do I care? I knew this was what would happen. I was prepared to go back to my regular, boring life. We agreed in advance that it was just a fling, a temporary escape from reality.

So he’s a good fuck. So what? I had orgasms with Johnny, too. No big deal.

Okay, maybe not three in a row. Didn’t see literal stars exploding behind my eyelids, either. Actually, neither did I come every time, if I’m being brutally honest. But we had nice sex.

Nice. God, even the word tastes like ashes on my tongue.

I huff out a breath and toss the phone back on the desk, watching it skitter across the polished wood.

This attempt at gaslighting myself isn’t working, no matter how hard I try to force it.

I can’t go to the gala alone, can’t bear the humiliation, and I need a dress. One that will make Logan’s eyes pop out of his skull, make him regret ever letting me go.

I pick up the phone again and dial Johnny’s number with shaking fingers, my heart a leaden weight in my chest.

“Hey.” His voice is warm and familiar, and I try to ignore the wave of disappointment that crashes over me. It’s not his voice I want to hear. “How are you feeling?” he asks, sounding genuinely concerned, and I feel a pang of guilt. He’s trying, I know he is.

“Much better, thanks.” I force a smile, even though he can’t see it.

“Anything for you, honey.”

The endearment grates on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “Don’t call me honey.”

“Okay. No honey, whatever you want.” He’s quick to placate, and it just annoys me more. Where’s his backbone? “Did you think about my date offer? ”

I take a deep breath, steeling myself. “Yeah. I have a gala event at work this weekend. Would you like to come as my plus-one?”

“You’re inviting me to your work event? Does that mean you’re agreeing to a date? Of course, I’ll come.”

“Can you come dress shopping with me? I need to buy something appropriate.” My office door swings open, and I hold up a finger to signal I’ll be free in a moment without bothering to look up.

“But you have a ton of dresses. You know I hate shopping.”

“It’s a formal event. With all the managers. I need the right dress, and I don’t have one. Can’t you come?”

“Can’t you go with one of your girlfriends?”

I thought he wanted another chance. I thought he’d jump at the opportunity to spend time alone with me, to prove he’s changed. Apparently, I was wrong. He hasn’t changed at all.

“Fine, never mind. I have to go.” I hang up before he can respond, tossing the phone back on the desk.

I lift my gaze, an apology for the interruption ready on my lips, and freeze, the words dying in my throat.

“Hi.” His voice is deep, smooth, and familiar in a way that makes my toes curl in my sensible work flats.

My heart stutters, then kicks into overdrive, slamming against my ribs like it’s trying to escape. The effect he has on me doesn’t wane, doesn’t diminish no matter how much time passes, how much distance I try to put between us.

I’m burning up from the inside out, feverish, and not because I’m sick this time, but because Logan is standing in my doorway, his imposing frame filling the space, pinning me in place with the sheer force of his presence .

He’s like a black hole, sucking in all the light and air, leaving me breathless and reeling. His eyes rake over me, predatory, possessive, like he’s trying to strip me bare with just a look, and I feel it like a physical caress, my skin prickling with awareness.

One word from him, one touch, and I know I’ll shatter into a million pieces, scattered to the winds. And God help me, but I crave it, crave him, even now, even after everything.

“I’m glad to see you’re feeling better,” he says, his voice cool and controlled, a stark contrast to the heat simmering in his gaze.

“Yeah, thanks.” I know how much passion lurks beneath that icy exterior. I’ve felt it, been consumed by it, branded by it.

I remember the fleeting touch of his hand outside my apartment, the way his fingers lingered on my skin, the way his eyes softened. That touch, that look, it didn’t feel detached, clinical. It felt intimate, tender. Almost...loving.

But I must have imagined it, projected my desperate desires onto him, because the man standing before me now is as remote as the moon, as untouchable as the stars.

“I need your results from the new glucose monitor network,” he says, crisp, businesslike, not a hint of warmth or familiarity in his voice.

I nod. That’s all he’s here for. Of course, it is. Stupid of me to think, to hope... “Is that all? I could’ve emailed that to you.” I hate the way my voice wavers, the way I can’t quite keep the hurt from surfacing.

Something flickers in his eyes, there and gone too fast for me to decipher. “I wanted to see that you’re okay.” The words are soft, almost tender, but his expression doesn’t change, his mask firmly in place.

“As you can see, I’m perfectly fine. Thank you.” I lift my chin.

Say something. Tell me you want me, that you don’t give a shit about the results, that you’re willing to take the risk for me, for us.

Tell me London wasn’t just a beautiful dream, a cruel mirage. Tell me I’m not alone in this, that I’m not crazy for feeling the way I do. Please, Logan. Please.

But he doesn’t say any of that. The corners of his mouth tighten, and his jaw clenches, but he remains silent, inscrutable. He gives me a curt nod and turns on his heel, striding out of my office without another word, the door clicking shut behind him.