by Mina Carter
"Carrie, I told you ... It's over.” Logan's voice was bored as he pulled his trousers back on. “I'll see you out and I'd like my key card back please. Rae, get dressed. You and I need to talk."
Rae watched with wide eyes as Logan ushered the complaining Carrie out. He knew. The look in his eyes as he said the last sentence, you and I need to talk, said it all. He knew she wasn't his wife, knew she'd been leading him on. Her stomach lurched, coiling in on itself as she sat for a moment in the darkness. He knew...
She slid from the bed in a slow movement, gathering up the clothes that had fallen to the floor en route to the bed. Moving as though in a dream she pulled them back on, fastening her skirt as she padded over to the door. Pausing for a moment with one hand on the darkened wood, she listened.
The sounds of a muffled argument filtered through the apartment to her. She winced as it ended on an angry exchange, voices raised before a door slammed. She hovered, biting her lip. Should she wait in the living room for Logan? Or wait for him to come and find her? She'd never done this, the talk after she'd pretended to be someone she wasn't, so she wasn't up on the etiquette.
Logan's voice summoning her from the main room solved her dilemma. Smoothing her crumpled skirt over her thighs Rae lifted her head and walked out to face the music.
* * * *
He stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows that formed the wall on one side of the penthouse apartment, the city in all its glory showcased behind him. But beautiful as the view was, Rae's attention was all on Logan.
He watched her, his hands in the pockets of the pants he'd pulled on, his pale eyes unreadable. She swallowed nervously and walked further into the room, her chin up despite the nerves and guilt turning her stomach into a lead weight.
Something was wrong. He'd told the other woman it was over. Rae wasn't stupid, a man didn't just tell his wife it was over and she left with nothing more than a few sharp words. Besides, the clothes in the closets were too big for ... Carrie was it? Even Rae could see the woman had been something stupid like a size zero. The clothes were only around a size smaller than she took, which was definitely nowhere near size zero. Not by a long shot.
Her eyes wandered over him when he didn't speak, taking in the breadth of his shoulders, the toned physique. He was a tall, lean man, the strength in his wiry frame surprising. The top button of his pants was undone, the faint trail of hair disappearing under the fabric enough to make her mouth go dry and her unfulfilled body clench.
"So, nothing to say for yourself, Mrs. Fyre?” he asked dryly after a long moment. “What a pity, I was hoping for yet another entertaining story. You do seem to be rather adept at them."
"Ho—How long have you known?” Rae refused to rise to the bait, trying to present a cool, confident front even as she quaked in her boots. Well, bare feet were more accurate at this point.
"Long enough. What I want to know is why.” The last wasn't a question, it was a statement. A demand uttered with the unshakeable confidence of a man who was used to being obeyed.
Rae opened her mouth to speak but he held a hand up, cutting her off.
"Don't. Spare me the next outlandish tale or fairy story. I know what you were playing at. You were screwing me, using me to keep that sorry little house of yours. Hoping I'd go soft on you out of some sort of emotionally based sympathy or something."
Rae winced at the harsh tone, her cheeks flaring with colour as he approached. Moving so close she had to look up to see into his eyes. She refused to be cowed or frightened. She'd done nothing wrong; it was the hospital that had made the mistake about her identity, she'd just not corrected them. And as for the rest, she hadn't gained anything from Logan because of their supposed relationship. They'd just had sex. Which wasn't a crime; they were both consenting adults.
"You aren't married at all, are you?” she asked. It was the only answer that made sense. “That woman ... Carrie ... She wasn't your wife was she?"
He shook his head, a snort of laughter on his lips. “No. Carrie isn't the ‘marriage’ sort of girl, shall we say?"
"So what's with the clothes in the closet ... if you don't have a wife? What were they doing there?” Rae looked him directly in the eyes, looking for an answer to at least some of her questions. There were others she didn't want to ask, like where the loving, affectionate guy he had been went. Disappeared in the blink of an eye.
He shrugged, a dismissive gesture.
"Games within games, sweetheart. I warned you not to play with me when we first met, remember?” he asked, arching his eyebrow.
"Tell me I'm wrong, tell me you weren't just screwing me to soften me up.” He looked down at her, rage swirling in the depths of his pale blue eyes.
"I can't.” Her voice was soft, barely heard. He was right, that's what she had been doing. That's exactly what she had been doing.
"But that was when I thought you were human, with a heart to reach out to.” She whispered, her courage in the face of his anger only extending to an answer, not the volume of the answer. She was surprised she could talk at all past the tightness of her throat.
He laughed, a derisive little chuckle. “Honey, I'm a lawyer. We don't have hearts. You'd do well to remember that."
Rae fought the urge to step back, nearly flinching as he brought his hand up. His lips compressed as he flicked the top button of her shirt open.
"We are, however, practical people.” His voice was silk over steel, a terrible combination that had all her survival instincts yelling at her to run, get out. Get as far away from this man as she could. “So I'm going to give you another chance to achieve what you set out to do..."
Another button flicked free, the gap in the front of the shirt widening to reveal more of her creamy flesh. Rae swallowed, her eyes searching his. “What do you mean?"
Logan smiled, a predator's smile that didn't reach his eyes. “I'm going to give you another chance to save your pretty little house.” He flicked the last button free and pushed the satin back from her full breasts. “And you're going to do it on your back sweetheart, just like you planned, or you can walk out now. Your choice."
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Chapter 9
She hadn't walked out, and a week later Rae was in hell.
Oh, Logan was looking after her well. Her mortgage and bills at home were all being taken care of and would be as long as she stayed, he'd assured her. She sat at the breakfast bar in the palatial kitchen and pushed fruit around her bowl with a spoon. Logan had left earlier, after their morning sex session, and she hadn't bothered to get dressed. There wasn't much point; Logan didn't require her company until lunch anyway. He had a business meeting with a friend of his—the other half of the property development company she'd thought was his main job—and she was required to put in an appearance. She sighed, fed up with the way he was showing her off.
She snorted. Now of course, she knew better. Logan wasn't a property developer. No, he was a rat bag lawyer who'd wrapped her up in his sick little game until she didn't know up from down. She'd thought she was being clever, playing him along, but she'd ended up the one being played.
Now, she was his mistress—until he got bored of her. His plaything in bed in the vain hope he might not foreclose on the bank that held her mortgage and she could keep her house. She was just a tart, prostituting herself for a pile of bricks and mortar. She shoved the bowl away with a little more force than she intended, watching dully as it slid to the end of the counter and disappeared, shattering on the floor seconds later.
On automatic she moved around to clear the mess up, grabbing paper towels to mop up the milk and fruit mixture before she piled the broken pottery on top. Her mind was only half on what she was doing as her thoughts churned over and over in her head. Was the house worth this? Worth degrading herself by sharing a guy's bed for it?
No ... yes, a tiny voice in her head shouted. It was when love was involved. Rae blinked, starting in surprise. Pain lanced through her fingertips a
nd she hissed. Blood welled brightly at the end of her fingers, the skin sliced across the tops by a razor-sharp edge on a piece of the broken bowl.
"Oh fuck it!” She stood up, rushing to the sink. Holding her bleeding fingers over it, she grabbed a tea towel to stem the flow of blood. Paper towels just wouldn't do it, they'd break up and the last thing she wanted was bits of wadded paper in a bad cut.
She wrapped her injured digits in the towel and pressed hard to stop the bleeding. Tears welled abruptly, overflowing onto her cheeks to splash into the bowl below. She loved him. Somehow, somewhere along the way, she'd fallen in love with the guy she was pretending to be married to. Idiot, she berated herself. He was supposed to fall for her, not the other way around.
She certainly wasn't supposed to fall for him now, not when he knew and he was just using her for sex. A convenient temporary mistress who was so pathetic she'd do whatever he wanted for a chance of keeping her house.
She lifted her head, the steel in her spine reasserting itself as she dealt with the cuts on her hand. She was not a toy to be played with and no house was worth losing self-respect over. Her lips compressed as she admitted the truth, her heart breaking.
Logan didn't love her, he never would. She laughed bitterly, the sound ringing around the empty kitchen. Her plan had been doomed to failure from the start. To fall in love with someone, you had to have a heart in the first place. She'd thought ... Hoped, maybe ... The sweet man he had been before they came here ... She shook her head.
"Get it together Rae, he was playing you all along. That guy didn't exist, he was as made up as Mrs. Fyre.” She admonished herself, her voice firm as her tears dried on her face. She might love him, but this was a bad situation. There was no way she could stay now, not with how she felt about him. It would destroy her. “Face facts, get your act together and walk away whilst you still can."
* * * *
Something was wrong. Logan knew as soon as Rae stepped through the doors of the restaurant and paused in the doorway, looking around for them. He leaned back in his chair, his fingers idly turning the stem of the glass in his hand. His eyes lingered on her, appreciating the lines of her figure, the curve of her waist as it flared into wide hips. She was gorgeous, beautiful but in a real way. A way that was striking when compared to the plastic ‘beauty’ of the women he usually associated with. Models or wannabe movie stars, rich trophy wives trying to hold onto the looks that had landed them their husbands in the first place.
The only ‘real woman’ he knew other than Rae was the wife of the man who sat opposite him. JJ wasn't newly married, but some problems had kept him and Zette apart until just before the birth of their daughter, so he still had the ‘honeymoon’ look. The look of a man completely and utterly besotted with his family. Logan had spent the last half hour being shown pictures of them on JJ's cell phone, the proud dad eager to show off what seemed like hundreds of near identical photos.
Trouble was, Logan could understand it now. Even a month ago he'd have tolerated JJ's behaviour with amusement and rapidly brought the conversation back around to business. Today he'd happily studied each picture, his mind's eye envisioning a similar scene in the future. One in which he was showing off baby photos. He smiled to himself; maybe that day wouldn't be far off.
His eyes softened as Rae turned, spotting them and walking over. She had done that. Her little games had pissed him off at first, sparked his competitive instincts. But Rae had wormed her way in. He never knew what she was going to do next. Like last week, he expected her to walk out on him after the scene with Carrie. But she hadn't.
A frown marked his brow. That bothered him a little. He'd wanted her to say something, give him a hint to indicate this thing between them was something other than just about her house. That, possibly, there might be an inkling of feelings they could build on to make the fantasy they'd been playing since the crash real.
He wanted that. He wanted the dream he'd had when he first woke up, of a wife waiting faithfully by his bedside for him to wake.
Logan had spent most of his life alone. As a child he'd been shunted off to boarding school as soon as he was old enough, and any time he'd spent at home he'd dedicated to avoiding his parent's arguments. So the idea of someone who cared about him, worried about him and to cuddle at night was seductive.
He stood as she approached. He'd taken her shopping to replace the trashy clothes he'd had put in the apartment, buying her a new and far more tasteful wardrobe. Clothing he noted she wasn't wearing now, the black trousers and grey satin top ones she'd brought from home.
His frown deepened as he noticed the pallor of her skin. He moved, meeting her a little way from the table he and JJ were sat at. He needed a few seconds of semi privacy with her.
"Hey honey, you're late. I was getting worried about you.” He caught her lips in a swift kiss as he reached for her hand. She hissed as he touched her, her eyes darkening in pain.
"Really?” she threw back, a slight note in her voice. Logan looked down. She had small white dressings on the ends of three of her fingers. Stick on butterfly stitches, covered with semi-sheer surgical tape.
"Oh sweetheart, what did you do?” he asked, bringing her hand up to kiss it. A surge of protectiveness took him by surprise as he ushered her to the table where JJ sat. “Here sit down, let me get you a drink ... JJ, this is Rae. Raelyn, this is my business partner JJ.” He made the introductions as he held her chair out, looking around for the waiter.
"It's okay, I won't be stopping long. Logan, it's over, I brought you your key back.” Her voice was firm, with only the slightest hint of a tremor as she dropped his key card into his hand. He accepted it without thinking. Stunned speechless he just stood there, looking at her.
Her lips quirked, sadness in her brown eyes. “I'll be out of the Gatehouse by the end of next week. You can have the bank take possession then. I'd say it's been a pleasure doing business with you Logan, but it really hasn't. You take care of yourself.” Then she was gone, leaving Logan staring at her back and then the swinging door.
He shook his head, unable to believe what had just happened. She couldn't have walked out on him! He couldn't have misread the situation that much, surely? No, he never got it wrong this badly. This dinner was supposed to put everything back on the level, sort things out and put them on a better course.
JJ cleared his throat in the silence, bringing Logan back to the present. He stood there like a prize idiot, his key card in his outstretched hand.
"You might want to go after her.” JJ advised, sympathy in his eyes. “Believe me, you'll regret it if you don't."
Logan didn't need any more convincing. “Take care of the bill, would you? I'll ring you later!” he called back over his shoulder as he ran for the door.
He burst through it and onto the street. The light rain splattered his face, staining his shirt. He ignored it, scanning up and down for Rae. Desperation filled him as he jumped a little to try and see over the crowds. It had been empty out here earlier, now everyone and his bloody dog was here ... He paused, spotting a familiar figure. There she was!
"Rae! Rae!” he yelled, dodging and weaving through the throng until he caught up with her. “Please honey, wait a minute."
Rae hunched her shoulders in her coat, refusing to look at him as she walked at a fast pace down the street. “Why Logan? What's the point?"
He slid in front of her, halting her in her tracks. She tried to slide to the left and then to the right, but he blocked her both times. Finally she looked up at him, exasperation on her face. “Logan, get out of the way. I need to get to the station."
Her eyes were red, classic signs that she'd been crying, but that was nothing compared to the dull look in her eyes. Logan felt like he'd been punched in the gut. Did her house mean that much to her? He'd done his research on it. She'd only been there a couple of years. Before Rae it had belonged to the old estate, so it couldn't have any sentimental value. Surely?
"Please, I'll get you ano
ther ticket.” He promised. “Just talk to me."
She sighed, made a show of checking her watch. She shot him a glance from under her hair. “Okay, two minutes then I'm gone. I have packing to do, remember?"
He moved closer, stroking along her cheek with gentle fingers. “You've been crying."
She backed away from his touch. “No shit Sherlock, nothing gets past you does it?"
"Does the house mean that much to you?” Logan couldn't help asking, his curiosity getting the better of him.
"Oh God, even you can't be that dense, surely?” Her bark of laughter was short and bitter. “No Logan, the house does not mean that much to me. I finally realised that, thank God."
"Then why have you been crying?"
"None of your damn business,” she snapped, and tried to move around him. His hand shot out to stop her.
"Tell me. I won't let you go until you do."
She shook him off, glaring at him. “Piss off Logan!"
"Just tell me why you were crying,” he demanded, something in her eyes telling him it was important.
She hissed, shrugging him off again. “Okay, if you must know. I love you. Okay? Happy now? Good, now get out of my way!"
Logan froze, her words hitting him like a freight train.
I love you.
She loved him.
That single truth permeated every cell in his body, easing an ache in his heart he hadn't realised was there. As though he'd been waiting to hear someone say those words, waiting all his life for someone to love him. Love him for himself, not for what he could give them in either money or status. Rae wasn't the sort of woman who was impressed by money or status. He knew that without asking.
He could feel his grin spreading and said the first thing that sprang to mind. “Marry me."
She stopped stock still, her dark eyes on his face.
