Page 39 of Logan (The Valeur Billionaires #1)

Chapter Thirty

SLOANE

S omething bubbles in my stomach as I watch Logan kiss the gorgeous woman’s cheek and hug her tightly. A lump of jealousy develops and grows into pure, seething anger. My hands clench into fists at my sides.

“Cora, wonderful you made it,” Logan says warmly, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles at her.

A handsome man appears behind the woman, putting a possessive hand on the small of her back, and she turns to beam at him. “Logan, meet Arlo Stein. The guy I told you about.”

“Nice to meet you.” Logan shakes Arlo’s hand, his grip visibly firm even from where I’m standing. “I hope you’re taking good care of my sister.” His icy gaze pierces the other man, the threat clear in his tone.

“Of course,” he assures Logan, but I hear the tremor in Arlo’s voice .

His sister? That stunning woman is his sister? Relief floods through me, followed quickly by a hot flush of shame. So now I’m jealous of his sister? What the hell is wrong with me?

“Won’t you introduce me to your date?” Cora asks, peering around Logan’s broad shoulder, her curious gaze landing on me.

Logan glances back as if he’d forgotten my presence. “This is Sloane Harris,” he says, his tone curt.

I step forward and extend my hand, pasting on a polite smile. “Nice to meet you.”

Cora grasps my hand. “You’re stunning,” she says, her eyes sweeping over me. “I can see what he sees in you.”

My eyes widen, and I feel heat creep up my neck. “No, I’m not?—”

“We’ll talk later, Cora,” Logan says, his fingers closing around my upper arm like a vise. Without another word, he pulls me away, leaving his sister and her date staring after us.

“What are you doing? Where are we going?” I ask as he drags me along with him. The muscle in his jaw jumps, betraying his thoughts.

He doesn’t answer, just tightens his grip and quickens his pace, weaving through the throngs of people until we reach the hallway.

His shoes click on the polished floor as he strides down the corridor, past startled servers balancing trays of hors d’oeuvres and champagne.

He ignores them all, focused solely on his destination.

When we reach the end of the hallway, he pulls a key from his pocket and unlocks a nondescript door, ushering me inside before following and closing the door behind us. The click of the lock echoes in the sudden stillness .

I blink as my eyes adjust to the dimmer light, taking in our surroundings.

“This is...a storage room?” Shelves stacked with boxes and jars of raw materials line the walls, a faint smell of chemicals lingering in the air. “You want to talk to me in a storage room?”

Logan turns to face me. “I needed a place where we wouldn’t be interrupted.”

I take a step back.

His eyes widen. “I’m not going to hurt you, Sloane.”

“Forgive me for being concerned when you lock me in a storage room in the middle of a company event.”

Logan drags a hand through his hair and exhales. He digs the key out of his pocket again and tosses it to me. It clatters to the floor by my feet, glinting dully in the low light.

“Take it,” he says. “You can leave whenever you want.”

I stare at the key for a long moment before dragging my gaze back to his face. Slowly, deliberately, I bite my lower lip, worrying it between my teeth. His eyes track the movement, darkening with unmistakable hunger.

“Fuck, Sloane,” he growls, taking a step toward me. “Out of all the people here, you know me best. You know I would never hurt you.”

I arch a brow, trying to hold on to my righteous anger even as it dissolves under the heat of his gaze.

“Do I?” I challenge. “Because we agreed to forget everything that happened between us the moment we returned. We agreed we don’t know each other, remember?”

His jaw clenches and something flashes in his eyes, gone too quickly for me to decipher. “So that’s your answer to my note?” he demands. “That we don’t know each other? ”

Confusion furrows my brow. “Your note?”

He rakes a hand through his hair again, leaving it mussed. “The note I sent with the dress. The one you’re wearing. Did you not read it?”

“ You sent the dress?” Of course, it was him. How could I have ever thought it was Johnny? He’s never been one for extravagant gifts, and this dress probably cost more than he could afford. “There was no note with it.”

“Fuck.” Logan paces, his long legs eating up the small space. “I thought you read it. I thought... I thought you wearing my dress was your answer,” he says, shaking his head.

I watch the agitated flex of his shoulders, the coiled tension in his frame, and something twists low in my belly. He looks like a caged predator, all barely leashed power and intensity. It shouldn’t turn me on as much as it does.

He stops and pins me with a look that steals my breath. “Are you fucking him?”

My eyes go wide at his crudeness. “Excuse me?”

“I need to know,” he says through gritted teeth. “Are you fucking him?”

“Why the hell is that any of your business?” I hiss, trying to ignore the little thrill that goes through me at his obvious jealousy.

“Because I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since London,” he snaps, taking a step closer.

“Because it’s killing me, seeing you with him.

Because if he’s touched you...” Logan’s hands flex at his sides, and his eyes blaze into mine.

“I swear to God, Sloane, if he’s put his hands on you, I’ll go out there right now and beat him bloody in front of everyone and sit happily in jail for it. ”

I gape at Logan, my lips parting on a silent gasp. I’ve never seen him like this, so raw and urgent and almost unhinged with want. It’s terrifying and thrilling, and it makes me ache in places I didn’t know could ache.

“What—” I swallow hard, trying to gather my scattered thoughts. “What did the note say?”

Something fierce and vulnerable flashes across his face, there and gone in an instant.

“That I want you,” he says, his voice low. “That I haven’t been able to think about anything else since we parted. That the memory of your taste, your touch, is driving me to madness.”

I suck in a shuddering breath, desire spiking hot in my veins. “And the blonde?” I ask, hating the slight tremor in my voice.

Confusion clouds his eyes for a moment before they clear with understanding. “Georgina.” He spits the name like it’s something vile. “She’s not my girlfriend, Sloane. She’s a mistake from my past that refuses to stay there.”

“She didn’t look like a mistake when she had her tongue down your throat,” I say, hating how petty and jealous I sound.

“She’s a witch. A snake in the guise of a woman. And if she disappeared off the face of the earth, no one would be happier than me. Believe me, when I say there is and will never be anything between us. Ever.”

He says it with such firmness, his voice full of bubbling anger, that I know he’s telling the truth. He doesn’t like this woman at all, and that fact reassures me.

But we haven’t solved the real problem. “What about work?” I ask, hating how breathy I sound. “I’m still your employee, Logan. You’re still my boss. We can’t just...”

“I don’t know.” His eyes bore into mine, dark and intense, and I feel pinned in place by the force of his gaze.

“I just know that every day is torture, knowing you’re just down the hall, close enough to touch but impossibly out of reach.

Watching you laugh and talk with everyone else while I have to keep my distance.

Seeing that asshole put his hands on you when it should be me. ”

He steps closer, crowding into my space until I can feel the heat of him, smell the clean, spicy scent of his cologne. It makes my head swim and my heart pound.

“I can’t stand it,” he says, his voice rough with barely suppressed emotion. “The thought of you with someone else, of his hands on your skin, his lips on your mouth... It makes me want to break things. Starting with his face.”

I shudder at the undisguised possession, the dark promise in Logan’s words. I know I should push him away, remind him of all the reasons this can’t happen... But I can’t seem to make myself move. Can’t seem to want to.

“Logan,” I breathe.

“Be mine.” The words are a growl, a plea, hot against my ear as he ducks his head to nuzzle the sensitive skin beneath. “Let me worship you, ruin you, wreck you for anyone else. Give me a chance to show you how good we can be together.”

Oh God. My eyes flutter closed as he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of my throat, his teeth scraping gently, teasingly over my racing pulse. I know I should stop this, that I should step back and be the voice of reason... But my body has other ideas.

Almost of their own accord, my hands come up to tangle in his hair, silky strands sliding between my fingers as I tug him closer. A low groan escapes him, and I feel it vibrate against my skin, making me shiver.

“You drive me crazy,” he mumbles against my collarbone, his hands settling hot and heavy on my hips, thumbs rubbing maddening circles. “The way you smell, the way you taste, the little sounds you make when I touch you just right...”

As if to prove his point, he nips at the junction of my neck and shoulder, soothing the sting with his tongue, and I can’t bite back the breathy moan that escapes me. Pleasure zings through me, hot and bright, pooling molten in my core.

I feel dizzy, drunk on sensation, on the heat and hardness of him pressed against me. It would be so easy to just give in, to let him hitch my leg over his hip and take what we both so desperately want.

But some small, stubborn part of my brain is still clinging to sanity, still aware of our surroundings, our situation. With an effort, I bring my hands to his chest and push gently, creating a sliver of space between us.

Logan lifts his head to look at me, his eyes glazed and slightly unfocused. “Sloane?” There’s a note of uncertainty, of vulnerability in the way he says my name that makes my heart clench.