Page 7 of Logan (The Valeur Billionaires #1)

Chapter Five

SLOANE

W hat in the world possessed me to say that? Why can’t I ever keep my mouth shut? It’s like my brain short-circuits whenever he’s near, leaving me stumbling over my words.

This morning, it took me a moment to shake off the remnants of sleep and realize that Logan’s presence was real. He stood there, a figure in the dim light of my bedroom, not just a figment of my imagination lingering from recent fantasies.

My cheeks heat. I came while envisioning him between my legs.

But why did I even fantasize about him in the first place? Logan Valeur is not my type. He’s nothing like the men I’ve dated.

Yet, there’s an undeniable allure about him, a magnetic pull that draws me in despite my better judgment. He’s like a character from a dark, brooding fantasy, a modern-day knight cloaked in an impeccably tailored suit.

He probably even sleeps in one. I have yet to see him without it. Not when he visited my room last night, and certainly not now.

But my suggestion for him and me to stay in the same apartment? Clearly, one of my less brilliant ideas.

Why did I propose such a thing? Especially to a man renowned for his icy demeanor and lack of emotion?

Yesterday, I was convinced he caught sight of the vibrator on the dresser before I had a chance to conceal it, but he remained silent, sparing me from potential embarrassment.

It felt like I dodged a bullet. How could I face him if he knew what I did in his bed? Goodness, the mere thought of it makes me squirm.

But truth be told, I’m tempted to indulge in using it even more this week. Just being near him causes my panties to melt.

I must possess some sort of self-destructive impulse because every time he opens his mouth, his words cut like a knife. Yet, there’s that undeniable allure… Up close, he’s...captivating in an enigmatic sort of way.

I struggle to find the right words to describe him. It’s as if he’s emerged straight from the depths of Hell. His eyes gleam with a brightness that should reveal depths of emotion, but they remain devoid of any emotion. Cold as ice.

Perhaps he’s devoid of a soul altogether. And why am I drawn to this dark, mysterious aura he exudes?

“Do you have feelings?” The words escape my lips before I can stop them, and I clamp my hand over my mouth, horrified at my audacity. Oh no .

“What did you just ask me?” he demands, his voice sharp.

I’ve done it now. He’s going to fire me. I’ve ruined my career in four words on my very first day.

“I mean, of course, you have feelings.” I try to backtrack, but it only makes matters worse. I let out a nervous snort, and my eyes widen. “I don’t know why I said that. I’m sure you’re a great person. Please forget it.”

“I’m not a great person. I’m exactly what you heard about me,” he responds, his gaze piercing into mine, sending a shiver down my spine. “Do you still want me to stay here?”

Part of me wants to take it all back, to rescind my foolish invitation. It would be so much simpler for him to move to a hotel. But instead, I nod. I can’t back out now, not after all the nonsense I spewed. If I want to hold on to my job, I have to stick to my decision.

“Fine,” he says with a stiff nod. “Move to the other room and remember you asked me to stay,” he instructs, his tone leaving no room for argument as he turns and heads toward his room.

Fuck.

I rush to the bedroom, stuffing my belongings into the suitcase in a chaotic jumble. The pink vibrator stares back at me, and I bury it deep within the pile of clothes, ensuring it’s concealed from view.

The last thing I need is for it to tumble out in front of him, and knowing my luck, that’s exactly what would happen.

Dragging the suitcase into the other bedroom, I find the space neat and empty. When did he find the time to tidy up? Barely a few minutes have passed since we last spoke.

He even made the bed. Damn it, I didn’t make mine .

Hurrying back to the other bedroom to rectify the oversight, I nearly collide with him in the hallway.

“Have you finished packing?”

I nod, feeling slightly dizzy. “Yes, but?—”

“Good.” He strides past me into the bedroom and slams the door behind him, leaving me standing alone in the hallway.

Dick. He deserves to sleep in an unmade bed tonight.

I spend the entire day strolling through the bustling streets, capturing snapshots of the stoic soldiers stationed at Buckingham Palace. With a mischievous grin, I even stick out my tongue, half expecting a playful response, but am met only with their unwavering discipline.

I walk to a nearby park next, surrounded by vibrant greenery and the chatter of colorful parrots. Taking a seat on a weathered bench, I enjoy the tranquility as I share my peanuts with the squirrels darting around.

I read somewhere that these squirrels differ from those back home, but to me, they look exactly the same, their fluffy tails twitching with curiosity.

Despite the enjoyment of my exploration, a twinge of loneliness nags at me. Traveling alone in a foreign land isn’t quite what I envisioned. I had hoped that the bustle of the city and the novelty of new experiences would dull the ache of being alone, but it only seems to amplify it.

Maybe being alone is my destiny .

I rise from the bench and make my way back to Piccadilly Circus, my heart skipping a beat as I catch sight of him.

Logan.

Instinctively, I dart behind a nearby red mailbox, my pulse racing. But why am I hiding? I’ve done nothing wrong.

I peek out from behind my makeshift cover, feeling a bit like a stalker. Across the sidewalk, Logan strides in his signature suit, engrossed in conversation on his phone. He doesn’t spare a glance in my direction, completely unaware of my presence.

Such a waste of beauty on a man who doesn’t care about anyone but himself.

Logan ends his call and slips the phone into his pocket before coming to a halt. I duck behind the mailbox once more, wondering if he caught me observing him.

I let several seconds pass, then peek out again, puzzled by his actions. He bends down, engaging in conversation with a homeless man seated on the pavement. They exchange words, and then Logan extends a hand, assisting the homeless man to his feet.

My jaw drops. What is happening?

They continue down the side street, disappearing from view. I chew on my lip, torn between curiosity and caution. Should I follow him? Purely for research purposes, of course. I just need to know if I’m working for a serial killer or something.

I cross the road with extreme caution. In this foreign city, the traffic seems to come from all directions, leaving me in a state of perpetual confusion.

Peering around the street corner, I catch a glimpse of them entering a nearby building. I move closer, stopping just shy of where they vanished from sight. It’s a delicate balance—close enough to observe, yet distant enough to avoid detection.

The building turns out to be a quaint coffee shop. I spot Logan’s unmistakable silhouette, his broad shoulders and long legs accentuated by his dark suit.

He engages in conversation with one of the staff, then hands the employee what seems to be a credit card. Moments later, he guides the homeless man to an empty table, where Logan sets out sandwiches and drinks before him.

He’s taken a homeless man off the street and into a restaurant? Could they possibly know each other? It doesn’t align with the rumors swirling around him. The infamous Logan, The Dark Lord, showing compassion to a stranger?

Logan turns, and I press my face against the wall, hoping he hasn’t noticed me. My heart races in my chest as I wait for him to move on. After what feels like an eternity, he finally leaves, disappearing into the flow of the city.

I decide it’s best to abandon my mission. Following him any further would be pushing it, even for me.

I glance at the time on my phone and determine it’s late enough to reach out to Emery. I need to share today’s events with someone, and she’s the only one who would truly understand.

Making my way to a nearby park, I settle onto a bench, the cool air offering a soothing balm to my swirling thoughts.

You up?

Emery

Am I a booty call?

What?

Emery

“You up” is something you ask when you want to fuck.

Really?

Emery

It doesn’t matter. Let’s preserve your innocence. I’m calling.

The phone rings in my hand, and I answer. “Hey.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t say anything was wrong,” I reply, but she knows me too well.

“But you were about to. So come on, spill.”

“London is stunning, but…”

“But?”

“I told the boss he could stay in the apartment with me.”

“What boss?”

“The big boss, Logan Valeur.”

“Logan Valeur? Are you serious? What’s he doing in London with you? Don’t tell me you invited him or something.”

“No. Yes. Well, not exactly.” I summarize the chain of events and hear Emery snicker.

“Let me get this straight. He showed up at the same apartment, offered to leave and let you stay even though it’s his apartment, and you said, ‘No, stay here, I’m practically begging you to fire me. Please terrify me into quitting’?”

“Yeah, more or less.” Hearing it put that way, I realize how absurd it sounds. “But at the moment, it seemed like the right thing to do.”

“Even if you don’t lay eyes on him, won’t be there when he is, and everything appears to be working out fine, how do you plan to invite a hot British guy over with Logan around? What if he shows up just as you begin to…you know?”

“Shit, that didn’t cross my mind. But the handsome Brit must have his own place, right? We could go to his.”

“Are you serious? What if he’s some kind of Jeffrey Dahmer, and he chops you up and keeps you in a jar in his room?”

“Emery…” I chuckle.

“What? It’s a valid concern. I wouldn’t even know how to call the London police if something happened to you.

” She pauses and gasps. “Hold on. What if Logan is secretly a murderer himself? He might dismember you and dissolve you in the bathtub, just like in that TV show, then it’ll all seep down into the apartment below, and that’s how they’ll discover?—”

“Emery!”

“What?”

“I don’t need nightmares. I won’t be able to sleep at all.”

“You’re not supposed to sleep at night. Remember? We agreed you were going to find yourself a fling in London. A one-night stand, something wild and satisfying. You need it. It’s been too long since you’ve dated anyone. I’m worried that Johnny’s betrayal has been lingering in your mind.”

“Yeah, we did talk about that.” Johnny really messed me up, and she’s right. It’s been a year; it’s time to move on. Maybe with someone with bright blue eyes…

“You’re interested in him, aren’t you?”

“Interested in whom?”

“The Dark Lord, the one who must not be named, the slayer of joy, the slayer of monsters?—”

“Emery,” I say too loudly, and several heads in the park turn in my direction. I force a smile. How the hell does she know I was thinking of him?

“So…are you?”

“Well, I might have a tiny crush on him. You’ve seen him, right? He’s like, super hot.”

“Yes, he’s sexy, but I prefer a different type. You know, pretty, but with a heart.”

“I’m sure he’s got a heart somewhere.” Buried beneath all that muscle and icy demeanor, there must be some warmth. You can’t buy food for a stranger if you’re completely heartless. Maybe I just need to chip away at that icy exterior and find it.

“Sloane, be cautious.” Emery’s tone loses its lightness. “Those romance novels you devour? They mess with your head. Men like in those books don’t exist in real life. Logan Valeur is not a broken man waiting for you to fix him. In reality, broken men stay broken. And they’ll only hurt you.”

“Don’t worry, I have no intention of falling in love.”