Heart Strings

by Melanie Moreland

  “And Carmen agreed, I take it.”

  Logan brushed a strand of hair away from my face. “It’s a bit more complicated than that, but yes. I will work with Bobby. Write my songs. Do some studio work with him. I retain the rights to my work—that was the biggest sticking point. RR wanted to own them, but I refused. Bobby refused to sign until I was happy, and they wanted him desperately. He’s huge—his EPs have been ripping up the charts and are being played everywhere. Ravaged wasn’t the only label lusting after him. Some big ones in the States were after him too, but he wanted Canadian. He wanted a label that would respect him and his artistry. Much like I did. The only difference is he had the clout to demand it.”

  “Bobby became your clout.”

  “Yes. We finally reached a compromise, but there have been a lot of meetings and talking.” He huffed a sigh. “I’m so sick and tired of talking and listening to lawyers.”

  He pulled me tight to him. “I wanted to tell you everything, Lottie, but I was under orders not to say a word until the deal was done. And frankly, I was certain something would happen and the deal would fall through, so I was too afraid to say much. Even now, I’m not supposed to talk about it. But I can’t keep this from you.”

  “What about teaching? Are you giving that up?”

  “I asked them to get another full-time person in to cover the mat leave. It’s not fair when there are so many teachers looking for hours and I have another source of income. Plus, I don’t want to do that to the kids. They need stability. I still want to sub if I can, but I have no idea what my days are going to look like. I’ve been burning the candle at both ends as it is, and I can’t do that much longer.”

  I ran my hand through his hair. “You do look tired.”

  He frowned. “So do you. I thought so last night. Beautiful, sexy, but tired.”

  I dismissed his concern. “I guess we’ve both been working hard. Logan, I’m so proud of you. So excited for your future.”

  “Our future.”

  His words made my heart beat a little faster.

  “Our future.”

  “This is going to change my life, Lottie. Our lives. I can offer you something. Financial stability—a future.”

  I frowned and sat up, pulling the blankets around me. “You already had something to offer me, Logan. Yourself. I don’t need anything else.”

  He pulled himself up, facing me. “I know, my Snow Queen. But now I bring something to the table your father can’t sniff at. What they paid me, what I can make with my words, my music, will set me up for life. I see a future with RR.” He cupped my face, his long fingers warm on my skin. “All because of you.”

  “No. Because of your music.”

  He shook his head. “But without you, I never would have been heard. You, Lottie, are the key to everything good in my life.”

  “Then I guess we’re a good team.”

  He kissed me. “The best.” He hesitated then asked, “How much trouble is this going to cause between you and your father?”

  I hadn’t been thinking about my father. Or the office. All I had been thinking about was Logan and how proud I was of him.

  I shrugged. “I’ll deal with it. This had nothing to do with my father, the deal, or anything else, except your talent. The fact that it was Bobby who insisted on this deal says it all.”

  “Still, he won’t be happy.”

  I pulled my knees to my chest and wrapped my arms around them. “I don’t know. The more successful this merger is out of the gate, the better the reputation is. Which reflects on the company that helped bring the investors to the table. I think Prescott Inc. comes out looking even better.”

  “Let’s hope your father sees it that way. I don’t want him blaming you for this.”

  “There is no blame. Everyone wins here. If my father can’t see that, then it is his problem. If he wants to punish me for it, then I’ll take it and move on. Won’t be the first time.”

  “I hate that,” he growled.

  “It’s fine.” I squeezed his hand. “Your life is going to change, Logan. You get to do something you love.”

  He studied me for a moment. “Our life,” he said softly. “Are you really worried, Lottie? What do I have to do to convince you?”

  Strangely enough, all my worries yesterday vanished last night when I heard the words he had written. His love for me poured out of each passage. Every note was infused with his feelings. The way he had looked at me from the stage had eased every worry and calmed every fear. But I was honest with him and told him how I had been feeling.

  “Silly, I know.” I shrugged when I finished explaining my feelings of inadequacy and worry.

  He leaned forward and kissed me. “Not silly. I understand. But, Lottie, I love you. Nothing is going to change that. You matter more than all of it. Please remember that. Nothing is more important than you.”

  “I’ll try. I’ve been a bit off the past little while. More emotional.”

  “You feel all right?”

  “Yes, I’m fine. A bit tired from all the late nights, but good.”

  “I’ll be around more now. Trying to do the music thing, the planning, the teaching, make sure I had time for the kids and everything else has been brutal.” He pressed a kiss to my forehead. “I missed you. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

  “No, you have been. I’ve just been stressed.”

  “Maybe we could move that time off up a little now that I don’t have to wait until the holidays?”

  “I’d like that.” I cleared my throat. “You still okay for the party soon? Will you have time?”

  “Absolutely. I’m looking forward to escorting the sexiest woman there.”

  “Oh?” I feigned shock. “Who are you taking?”

  In a second, he had me on my back and was over me, a warm, heavy body pressing me into the mattress.

  “You,” he murmured low in my ear. “My beautiful, wonderful, sexy Snow Queen.”

  I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled him down to my mouth. “Okay, then.”

  My father was waiting for me in the morning, sitting inside my office, behind my desk. It was a power move on his part, reminding me he owned the place and everything in it. I had seen him do it to other people—I’d just never expected it to happen to me.

  I refused to let him see my inner turmoil, and I lifted one eyebrow in what I hoped was a condescending gaze, then set down my to-go coffee cup and took my time removing my coat, smoothing down my skirt, and sitting down in one of the visitor’s chairs in my office after I shut my door. I wanted as few witnesses to this as possible.

  He remained silent the entire time, not moving, never betraying his emotions. Unless you knew him. I saw the fury in his eyes, the one muscle that worked in his throat.

  “Charles,” I said simply, taking a sip of my coffee. “If I had known you were coming to see me, I would have picked you up your own coffee.” My father always drank the coffee that was readily available to all the staff, but he did, on occasion, enjoy a cappuccino from the corner coffee shop where I picked up a cup most mornings.

  His voice was icy when he spoke. “I am not interested in coffee. I am, however, interested to know how it is your boyfriend was signed to a record label you were involved in handling a merger for.” The word boyfriend was spoken with such condescension, I could hear his hatred.

  I took another sip. “Strangely enough, I asked that question myself.”

  That caught him by surprise.

  “The boy used you to get ahead. Exactly the way I knew he would,” he snarled. “I know his kind—useless, always riding others’ coattails. You are better off without him.” He launched into a rant about men like Logan, most of his words uncomplimentary and completely inaccurate.

  I let him spout off, knowing I couldn’t stop his hateful words. When he stopped to take a breath, I set down my cup. “Are you finished?”

  “For now.”

  “No,” I replied. “For good.”
/>   “I beg your pardon?”

  Simply and without hesitation, I set the record straight. First, I addressed his lack of respect. “You don’t know Logan, so stop casting aspersions on his character. And he is a full-grown man, not a boy. Stop referring to him as such.” I didn’t let him reply before I told him how Carmen asked me for Logan’s number. That Logan refused his offer. His meeting with Bobby and their resulting partnership.

  “It was Bobby who brought Logan to Ravaged, not me—not this deal.” I tapped my finger on the desk for emphasis. “They sought him out, not the other way around. His talent sold them on him. Not me. Not any investor. I never once tried to sell Logan to Carmen. Logan would never—and I will repeat that—never have asked me for help. He is far too proud.” I shook my head. “In many ways, he reminds me of you. The old you. His pride and the way he looks at the world. The way he puts others first.” My voice dropped, filled with sadness. “The way you were before Josh died.”

  “Do not bring your brother into this conversation.”

  I laughed, the sound dry and brittle. “No, I’m never supposed to talk about him, am I? We all pretend we’re great. That we’ve moved past losing him.” I grimaced. “The truth is we’re still stuck in that hospital, watching him die. He would hate that. He would hate what has happened to our family.” I looked directly at my father. “He would hate you for allowing it.”

  The color drained from my father’s face. “You will not see Montgomery Logan again. You will refrain from these hysterical outbursts.”

  “Or…” I let the word trail off.

  “Or you will no longer be employed here. You insist you had nothing to do with that boy’s sudden windfall. I disagree. I think he has you so confused, you have no idea what the truth is.”

  I stood. “I think you’re wrong. I think you are the one blinded to the truth. Call Carmen. He will tell you exactly what happened. So would Alfred. Logan didn’t use anyone. I did nothing wrong in my handling of the account.”

  “I intend to.”

  “Be my guest.”

  His eyes became frostier. “You forget, I don’t need your permission. This is my company. You need to find your respect, Charlotte. I’m—”

  “Disappointed. I’m aware. You’ve been disappointed in me since the day Josh died. You’ve made that very clear. It doesn’t matter what I’ve done. Perfect grades. No trouble. Going to school and getting my degree, with honors, for a career I never wanted but hoped would finally win me your approval. But I’m never going to get it.” I barked out another laugh. “I just got that—after all these years. I am never going to be the one you love, because that person died.” I stared at him, realization sinking in. “All these years, you’ve wished it were me who got sick. That Josh lived.”

  My father stood so fast the chair hit the wall behind him. “Charlotte!” he roared, his voice bouncing off the walls. His face was ashen, his eyes wide with shock.

  I held up my hand. “Get out of my office. My resignation will be on your desk by noon. I’m done.”

  “We are not finished with this conversation.”

  “Yes, we are. I can’t keep trying to be something I’m not. I’m not Josh. I never will be, and I need to find my own life now.”

  He stared at me, his face now lax. “Charlotte,” he began, his voice quieter.

  I lowered my head, suddenly too tired to hold it up anymore. “Leave, please.”

  My father didn’t say another word. I heard the door click shut behind him, and I sank into the chair, my legs trembling.

  I had expected my father to be angry. What I hadn’t expected was my reaction. The accusations. His face when I confirmed that he had wished it had been me who died, not Josh.

  When I realized that no matter what I did, it would never be enough.

  I wasn’t enough for him. It didn’t matter how many deals I put together. How many victories I won on his behalf. How much I lived my life in an effort to please him. Even if I married a man he chose and gave him grandkids—I would never be who he wanted.

  Because I wasn’t Josh.

  A wave of dizziness hit me so hard, I had to put my head between my legs. I felt shame flood me, worry over what had just occurred filling my chest.

  I had quit my job. Told off my father. Unraveled whatever fraying strands had been left of our relationship. I had no idea what my mother would do. Probably side with my father, so in effect, I had lost them both.

  Not that I really had them, I had to remind myself.

  My head began to pound, and my legs shook. My breathing became harsh, and I struggled to get in enough oxygen. The room pulsated around me. Somewhere in the background, I heard voices. Footsteps. I grabbed the edge of the desk, needing to stand, desperately trying to find my footing.

  Why was the room spinning?

  I heard noises, shouting, and suddenly, my door flew open, crashing against the wall. A voice, a voice I knew, a voice I loved, filled the room, and he was there.

  Logan. His warmth was close, his hands on me, holding me upright.

  “Lottie, baby, what is it?”

  “H-help,” was the only word that came out before the room went black.

  Chapter 22

  Logan

  I paced the waiting room in the hospital, the last couple of hours a blur. I had gone home after Lottie left for work, but I was too restless to stay. Too worried about her father. I’d had a glimpse of him last night before he left the room. Lottie thought he had left, but he was at the back, and there was no doubt he heard the announcement. I didn’t want her to suffer because of me, and I had a feeling she would.

  When I got to the building, I made my way to her office. I had been there one other time with her when she had forgotten something, so I knew where to go. As I stepped from the elevator, her father was storming down the hall, his expression furious. When he spied me, pure unadulterated hatred crossed his face, and before I could move, he lunged, punching me with a strong left hook. I staggered backward, hitting the wall. He crowded my personal space, almost spitting in his rage, seemingly oblivious to the wide-eyed curiosity directed our way.

  “Stay away from my daughter.”

  I held my aching jaw in my hand. The older man had a solid punch—I was impressed. “That’s her decision.”

  “I’m making it mine. I will make your life a shambles. All the things you think are in your reach right now? Kiss them goodbye.”

  “As long as I have her, take them.”

  He looked so startled, I shoved past him, headed to her office, not caring he was yelling after me that he was getting security. I looked over my shoulder, expecting him to be following me, but another man was standing in his way, talking. Whatever he was saying that stopped her father, I was grateful. I planned on being out of there before they followed me or security arrived.

  Nothing prepared me for what I found. A shaking, barely-able-to-speak Lottie. Her face was so pale, it was the color of the freshly fallen snow she loved so much, and her feeble grip on my hand was as cold as the flakes that fell outside the window.

  I recognized the panic she was falling under. The anxiety. I grabbed her coat, sliding it over her shoulders and, without a thought, swept her into my arms and rushed for the elevator, stopping at the sight of her father walking toward us, his face like thunder. Behind him was a young girl hurrying in his wake, looking upset.

  “Don’t,” I warned. “She needs help.”

  He narrowed his eyes, his hands curling into fists. I walked toward the elevator, on edge and worried.

  “Hate me if you want,” I told him. “Have me arrested later. I don’t care. Don’t risk losing another child because of your personal dislike of me.”

  I knew that was a low blow, but it stopped him. The girl hurried forward and pushed the button on the elevator. The doors slid open, and it was empty. I stepped inside, and she pressed the button for the main floor.

  “Take care of her,” she whispered.

  I nodded. Ou
tside, I grabbed a cab and instructed the driver to go as fast as possible to the closest hospital.

  And since arriving, I had been pacing, waiting. Anxious and tense. She had been almost catatonic in the cab, her gaze unfocused and her body shaking. It had been hard to release her into their care, even though I knew it was for the best. Luckily, I had remembered to grab her purse and was able to give them her medical number and insurance. When questioned about my relationship to her, the word fiancé fell from my lips without a thought. I knew it was the only way to get any information out of them, and I needed to understand what was wrong with Lottie.

  Briefly, I wondered what occurred once we left the office. What her father was thinking as he saw me carry her away from him and out of the building. Others witnessed our fast exit but didn’t try to stop us. I didn’t care what they thought. My only focus was getting Lottie some help. I shut my eyes, knowing I would have to worry and deal with that situation later. I touched my jaw, the right side of my face aching from the vicious punch her father had landed. I was grateful I had been more concerned about getting to Lottie than retaliating. Part of me wished I had hauled off and punched him back, but I knew that would only have made matters worse.

  My cell phone rang, and I lifted it to my ear. “Logan.”

  “It’s Brianna. Logan, what the hell is going on? Lottie’s dad called me, wanting to know where she is—he says you took her out of the building,” she exclaimed.

  I groaned. “I didn’t kidnap her, for fuck’s sake. She collapsed. I brought her to the hospital.”

  Brianna gasped. “What? Which one?”

  “Victoria.”

  “I’m on my way.”

  “Tell him to stay away. He did this,” I snarled.

  I hung up, grateful Lottie’s friend would be here soon. My phone chimed again, reminding me of a meeting, and I quickly texted Bobby, telling him I had an emergency and couldn’t make it. Then I resumed pacing.