by Maisey Yates
Silence fell between them. A strange swell surged through his chest, a kind of triumph. He was proud of her, he realized.
“You don’t need me,” he said.
She blinked, a strange look flashing through her eyes. He’d never been great at reading female emotions, because he’d been too selfish in his days before the island, and because since then…he’d never tried. This emotion was no different. It was a mystery to him, and he found it enraged him. Because it was a mystery he knew he needed to solve. He had the sudden, intense feeling that solving it could change his entire life.
But he couldn’t.
“I do,” she said, her lips tight. “But there’s not really a place for either of us to fit with each other, not in the long run. So it’s kind of moot, isn’t it?”
“I suppose so. It’s about time for us to clock out.”
“Is it? I was enjoying myself today. I didn’t realize how much time had passed.”
“That’s a good thing. Maybe real Addison should be in the hotel business.”
“I’m thinking maybe she should,” Addison said.
His chest tightened, his resolve, for one moment, weakening. But he knew he needed to ask her this. Knew he needed to try this if he had a hope in hell of surviving the ball. They would need to dance, and that would help him. Anchor him. But they would have to practice first. Set it up as something he could look forward to. Something he could focus on.
Addison was his anchor.
“As it’s time to clock out, perhaps you would like to go out with me?”
“Oh, go out with you? As in…to my room?”
“No. I thought maybe we’d go dancing.”
*
If Logan were the type of guy to tell a joke, Addison would be waiting for the punch line. But he wasn’t. So instead she just resigned herself to total confusion as she followed instruction and went back to her room to change.
She traded her more staid work attire to a red dress that was fitted through the bodice and flared out at her hips. All the better to move while dancing. Since they were going dancing. Apparently.
She walked back out into the hallway, and stopped when she saw Logan. He was dressed in a tux, his perfect physique on display to its greatest effect. Granted, he was most incredible when he wore nothing at all. But if anything came close to matching that, it was when he was wearing a suit.
He was so beautiful. Which was a strange adjective to assign to a man like him. A man who could be cold and utterly ruthless.
A man who seemed to be lacking in the ability to connect with the world in almost every fundamental way.
Or perhaps that was what made him so beautiful. He was untouchable. Not his body. She’d touched that. Tasted it. Taken it inside her own. In this very limo, in fact. But Logan, the essence of the man. The torment that corroded him from the inside out, the hardness of his soul, was out of reach.
And even though she knew touching him would be her end, she wanted to. Something was changing between them. Had been for a while. Something was changing in her.
She didn’t want it to. But where she was blocked from reaching in deeper, he’d gotten beneath her skin. And brought all this heat, and need, this realization that there could be more to life, if she weren’t so cautious. If she could just be brave.
Forget the lessons she’d learned via the sins of her father and through the pain of her mother and just shed her outer shell.
Come at me, large predators. I’m shell-less, and I’m vulnerable, but the sun feels so good on my skin.
Of course, that was scary. But the alternative at this point wasn’t any better. Going back to who she’d been might be safe, but what was it she wanted more? Protection…or everything? To stay safe, or to jump into the storm and let herself get tossed around with nothing to keep her from getting smashed on the rocks?
She frowned at her own analogies. Every single one assumed she was soft and easily crushed beneath her protection. But the simple truth was, she had no idea if that was the case.
Maybe she wasn’t a crustacean, or a similarly, easily crushed being. Maybe she was a secret badass.
A secret badass who could handle someone’s darkest demons while dealing with her own. Who had held a man while he shook, and brought him out of his flashback in the shower. Warmed him as he shivered. Who had taken in every one of his dark secrets and hadn’t crumbled beneath their weight.
So maybe she was underestimating herself. Making herself smaller, less important. The way almost everyone else in her life always had.
The layer she’d put between herself and the world, between herself and men, had, unknowingly, been put in place to protect the world from her. From who she really was, as much as it had ever been to protect herself from the world. So that she would never offend her father, or her Ivy League friends. So that she would never make waves in the press.
Well, that was done. It was over.
And whatever happened from here on out…well, the consequences would be hers, but at least the choices would be too.
“You don’t seem like the kind of guy who dances,” she said, breaking out of her internal monologue.
“I used to,” he said.
“In clubs with flashing lights and lots of women in short skirts.”
“Oh yeah,” he said, smiling with memory. There was no fondness in the smile, no warmth. Just a kind of rueful acceptance. “Alcohol, a little light drug use. Sex and strobe lights. But that’s not what we’re after tonight.”
“Oh, good. I mean, come on, Logan, it’s not 1996. Let’s leave the strobe lights in the past.”
“Noted.”
“You can have fun, you know,” she said.
“I don’t normally.”
“I know. But surely…what you did. Who you were…it wasn’t all bad.”
He blinked. “I…I tend to think of it as bad.”
“I know. But not everything you were was bad. Just like not everything you are now is bad. I know you have some issues, but that isn’t…everything. It’s not all you are.”
“I never thought of it that way,” he said, his voice rough.
“I do.” She took a deep breath. “So, what did you have in mind?”
“I thought we might go up to the roof.”
He held his hand out to her and she took it, his fingers lacing through hers as he led her to the staircase that went up to the roof. The motion easy. The feeling of his hand made her blood go hot and fizzy. It spoke of a connection. Not simply a physical connection.
And that was why the gesture mattered so much. Because it wasn’t sex. Because it wasn’t unconscious or necessary because he was tense. Because it seemed a lot like touching her just to keep a link between them.
She moved closer to him and pressed herself against his arm, turned her face to his shoulder and breathed in deep, taking in the scent of him. The familiar smell that was his skin, his soap. Just him.
He pushed open the exterior door and held it for her, and she walked out into the crisp night air.
“Do you come up often?” she asked, surveying the area. There were planter boxes and tables, the area ready for guests. But it was vacant tonight, she imagined by design.
Overhead the lanterns were lit, slow sensual music being piped in over speakers that she couldn’t immediately see.
“No. But I thought since I’m gearing up for the ball, this might be a nice bit of practice. No people, but, dancing. And I imagine we will dance.”
“If we do that people will know we’re together,” she said.
He tightened his hold on her hand. “Do you care?”
She thought about Austin. About the fact that he would be angry that his friend, no matter how distant a friend, was sleeping with his much younger sister. That was going to go over like a kick to the face.
“I don’t. But I hope Austin doesn’t either. And the odds of that are…low.”
“I’m not afraid of your brother.”
“He is my father�
�s son, so you might rethink that.”
“Pretty hard to hurt someone who’s already dead.”
“You’re not dead, Logan.” She lifted her hand and brushed her knuckles over his cheek.
He lifted his hand to cover hers and moved it to his lips, kissing her fingers. Then he focused his gaze on her,. “Most of me is.”
“I don’t believe that. I think a whole lot more of you is alive than you would like.”
His mouth curved into a smile. “Is that what you think?”
“Yes.”
“Smart girl. Very smart. Now,” he said, “let’s dance.”
She led now, pulling him to the center of the rooftop. The lights twinkled all around them, some buildings rising higher than Black Book, and some providing a soft glow from below. City noises filled the air around them, partly quieted by some of the music. She paid close attention to Logan, to how his muscles tensed and relaxed. Did her best to keep tabs on how he was doing.
She turned to him, curled into his chest, her head rested against him, his heart pounding beneath her cheek. Fast. Hard. As if he were running a marathon. He put his arms around her, his hold tight. His breath was shallow, and she could feel the tension in every line of his body.
Even this, still in his domain but outdoors, was hard for him. Even this had a price.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and drew herself closer, holding him. Swaying with him. A nod to dancing when she knew that wasn’t what they were doing at all. They were holding tight, and weathering the storm together.
And suddenly she knew that this was her storm. Because he was her man. Her person. The one who’d made her decide that it was better to let him in than to stay safe from the storm.
She went up on her toes and kissed his neck, felt his pulse beneath her lips. She suddenly wanted to touch him everywhere, not just because she wanted him, but because he was so special to her. So essential, and the realization of it overwhelmed her. Made her want to hold tight to him, to make sure he was real.
To make sure she was real. She was real. More real than she’d ever been.
And she loved him.
That wasn’t supposed to happen.
But it did. She loved this man more than she’d believed it was possible to love anyone. This was deep. This was under her skin. Under the armor.
She knew who she was now. She was Addison Treffen. She was her own woman. She was strong. She had value, all on her own. And she was in love with Logan Black, a man who was so broken he couldn’t even love himself, let alone anyone else.
“How are you feeling?” she asked, her eyes filling with tears. She looked down, hoped that in the dim light he wouldn’t see. Because there was no wall to hold it back now. There was no buffer between the world and her emotions.
“I’m good,” he said, tightening his hold on her.
In spite of the tears, a smile curved her lips. “Look at you, outside dancing.”
“Not panicking,” he whispered.
“Nope. You can do this, Logan. You can give your speech. You can show them what you need to show them.”
“With help,” he said. “With you.”
“You’ll have me.” For as long as he needed. For as long as he would have her. “Because I’m yours.”
He slipped his hand up her back, her neck, burying his fingers in her hair. “Yes. You are.”
For how long didn’t matter. All that mattered was right now she belonged to him. She would take that for as long as she could.
Chapter Fifteen
Addison’s phone rang at four-thirty the next morning. She reached over Logan and grabbed it off the nightstand.
She knew where she was. She knew who she was with. And besides being nervous about the ringing phone, she wasn’t afraid.
But phones didn’t ring at four in the morning for good reasons.
“Hello?”
Logan shifted and sat up, his eyes on her.
“Addison? It’s Nora.”
“Nora? What’s going on?”
“I got a text from Harlow.”
“You did?” Addison pushed her hair off her face and looked at Logan, who was studying her intently.
“Yes. But I’m really, really concerned now.”
“What? Why?”
“She told me she was fine. And she asked me to make sure I fed her cat.”
“What? But she doesn’t…and how would you…if she got a cat in Europe…”
“Exactly. Which I think was for my benefit. And I feel like it’s because she’s not safe. It’s cloak-and-dagger stuff, I know, but with everything that’s happened…”
“Why wouldn’t it be?” Addison asked. “All things considered.”
“Look, I did more digging. She was researching sex trafficking and writing a research paper on the topic.”
“Wait…she was researching sex trafficking and she happened to take a position at the London branch of my father’s firm?”
“Yes,” Nora said, her tone grave. “That’s what it looks like.”
“I don’t like that at all. After what happened to Sarah ten years ago…”
“And the stuff Zoe went through,” Nora added, referencing her brother’s girlfriend.
“I really, really think this is too coincidental,” Addison said, her stomach churning. “Did she respond when you texted back?”
“Nothing. She went dark again. And I couldn’t get through to the number by calling. And I think it’s too coincidental because it isn’t coincidental at all.”
“Who might know something? Who else might be able to figure this out?”
“Louise.”
Louise had been a mentor to Harlow, and was involved in women’s studies at Columbia. There was every chance that Harlow had begun the project with her help.
“Great. Are you still in touch with her at all?”
“Not in a big way, but I’ll see if she still has the same contact information.”
“Okay. And I’ll wait to hear from you.”
“Addison…I’m sorry about your dad. And I’m sorry to dump all this on you after…”
Addison’s throat tightened. “No. Don’t. He was awful.”
“Sure. But…I’m still sorry.”
“I appreciate it. Thanks.” She hung up and put the phone back on the nightstand. “That was Nora. I’m afraid… I’m afraid something terrible happened to her. Something to do with my father.” Addison started shaking. She was so unguarded all of a sudden that it was really inconvenient. She just couldn’t handle this.
But then, she doubted she’d ever been handling it at all. She’d just been shoving it down deep and hoping it would go away.
Still, she’d rather not be crying and shivering all the time.
“What can I do?” he asked, putting his arms around her.
She leaned into the warmth of his body, turning in to his broad chest, pressing her face against him. “I don’t know. I don’t know what I can do either. I just…why is everything falling apart? I’m so tired…”
“I’ve asked myself that before,” he said. “So many times.”
“And what answer did you get?”
“Nothing but the sound of the waves.” He cupped her cheek, pulling her in tight. “But one thing I did learn was how to build something new. Even here. Even though it’s broken.”
“Are we broken?” she asked.
“Almost certainly.”
“Is there anything we can do about it?”
“Well,” he said, “if we can rebuild our surroundings, who’s to say we can’t rebuild ourselves?”
“I like that thought,” she said. “Today went well.”
“It did. I…forgot for a while.” He sounded troubled. Not triumphant.
“What did you forget?”
“The island. Kelly. Everything, really. Even what came before it was just…now.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”
“Yes. It is.” He didn’t sound convinced.
&
nbsp; “I guess we should go back to sleep,” she said.
“Do you want to sleep?” He brushed his hand over her cheek.
“I need to. I feel so…tired. Not in the same way I’ve been feeling tired. Not in that horrible, dull kind of way. It’s just…like the floodgate sort of opened on my emotions and everything I was holding back is pouring out and new things are getting in. It’s draining.”
“I can imagine.”
“I can go back to my room. I don’t suppose there’s any reason for me to stay if all we’re doing is sleeping.”
Falling asleep right after sex was one thing, but making the decision to chastely fall asleep together seemed like something else, and right now, with her newly minted feelings all raw and out there, it seemed tantamount to a declaration of love.
And anyway, he wouldn’t stay in the bed.
“If you don’t stay, what’s going to keep me from walking off the balcony?” he said, amusement in his voice.
“Common sense?”
“You’re assuming I have any.” He tugged her down onto the mattress, his body partly over hers. “Stay with me. You’re mine, and you have to do what I say.”
That should not turn her on. But it did. “Now what?”
“Rest.”
“I want you now,” she said, yawning.
“It’ll keep. We have time.”
The gala was drawing nearer, and it was, in her mind, a countdown timer. A day of reckoning for them both. They’d been hiding in this place, under a spell in so many ways. His hotel very like a castle under an enchantment.
But they would have to go out in public. Everyone would know, not just about Logan’s issues, but about the two of them together.
And everyone would be looking at them both. At her. Jason Treffen’s daughter. Fallen from grace. Abandoned by her boyfriend, her reputation sullied.
She waited for the fear to hit her. But it didn’t.
What did any of that matter? She didn’t live for those people now. Newspaper headlines didn’t have bite, not really. Not when she looked at her life, at where she was right now, and wouldn’t change anything she was doing.
She was with Logan Black. In his bed. As his lover. She had found something here with him. Something of herself.
