by Erika Masten
"Okay, so I am entitled to nothing until I can convince Logan to leave his home, and live in the manor with me for a month?"
"I'm sorry sweetheart, but you can't even move back into the manor until he's agreed to move with you and all you have to live off of is the money in your bank account."
Terror rushed through her. Her bank account was seriously depleted. She had enough money to pay for her penthouse for exactly one month. She usually just used credit cards, but being that they were all under her father’s name, they were also now off limits. It seemed bizarre, but then again, in the will – Logan was entitled to half of the inheritance, so what person in their right mind would turn down over a billion dollars when all they needed to do was move into a multimillion-dollar mansion for a month? Shit, she imagined he'd be falling over himself to get moved in. The Lawson manor was so fabulous that the bigger problem would be getting him out once he moved in.
Angelica sighed loudly and shrugged. "All right, Uncle Clayton. Tell me where to find him and I'll convince him to move into the manor."
The sympathetic smile returned as Clayton straightened in his chair and jotted down the address to her sort-of brother on a post-it note and then passed it to her. "Good luck, Angel."
Good luck? What a strange choice of words. She shook the thoughts of fear from her mind. Considering the emotional trauma she'd been through recently she was sure she was just imagining his apprehension.
****
"Wow." As Angelica pulled her silver Mercedes up to the curb of the building where Logan resided, she was impressed. It was nicer than the building she lived in. It was situated in Manhattan, facing Central Park and one of the highest buildings around, the top floor reaching up into the clouds. At least it appeared that way looking up from inside her car. A knock on her window from the valet pulled her from her shocked state. Turning off the car, she opened the door and slid out, passing the keys to the young, freckled, red-haired valet in exchange for a valet ticket.
As he pulled away she made her way into the building and the lobby was equally as impressive. The décor was Victorian in nature and screaming out wealth. My God! Had her father been supporting Logan all these years? How else could he afford to live in such an extravagant place at such a young age? Maybe he's shacked up with some wealthy cougar. She chuckled to herself at the idea.
"Can I help you?"
Angelica looks to her left to see the building security guard at his desk, eyeing her. "I’m here to see Logan Sinclair."
"Is he expecting you?" The guard glanced down at a notebook in front of him searching for Logan’s name. "
Angelica cringed, but forced a bright smile on her face. "No, I’m his sister from Boston."
The guard glanced up at her, his brow furrowing. "I didn’t realize he had a sister. Let me call up."
"NO!" Angelica placed her hand over his, stopping him from calling. A flush colored her cheeks. I mean. She leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Listen, I’m here with bad news. His father just passed away and I’d rather he hear it from me face-to-face. If you call up he will worry and wonder why I’m here since I’m never in New York." She shrugged, "You can frisk me or escort me up if you want, but please do not call up first."
The guard hesitated a moment and then shrugged. "Fine, carry on."
Letting out a sigh of relief, she made her way to the elevators. After she pressed the call button for the elevator, it dinged and the doors opened. Inside was an elevator attendant, who gave her a smile and curt nod of the head. "Which floor, Ma'am?"
Shit! Which floor? She chewed at her lower lip. The address Uncle Clayton had given her only had the street address. With a shrug she gave him an embarrassed smile. "Logan Sinclair."
"Thank you, Ma'am." The attendant pressed the button for the highest floor, the elevator doors closed and she found herself barrelling skyward, the floor numbers lighting as they rose higher and higher. Less than a minute later the elevator dinged again and the doors slid open displaying a large foyer with a set of mahogany double doors at the end. "Have a good evening, Ma'am."
"Thank you," she called over her shoulder, walking up to the doors.
He has the whole floor to himself. Holy shit! What does he do for a living?
She hesitated, her French-manicured index finger poised over the doorbell. She was actually feeling butterflies in her stomach. She'd been so confident coming down here, thinking that this would be easy, but if he was able to afford this place without the assistance of her father then maybe convincing him to move into the manor would be a little trickier than she originally expected.
Taking a shaky breath in, she pressed the buzzer and waited. It was 6pm on a Saturday night so there was the possibility that he wasn't home. She hadn't considered that on her four-hour drive into Manhattan from her home in Boston. But she gave herself a little slack, she hadn't been thinking too clearly since her father's unexpected death, so this was a slight oversight.
She pressed the buzzer again and waited. She was about to turn and leave when the door was flung open, to present a dark-haired man she presumed to be Logan Sinclair, wearing a pair of black boxers and nothing else.
Holy fuck, that's Logan! "I... Ummm."
Her eyes dropped to his bare feet and slowly worked their way up his firm, muscular calves, to his thick powerful thighs. Without meaning to her eyes paused at the front of his boxers and she could feel a blush creeping into her cheeks as she took notice of the sizable bulge under the thin material of the shorts. Giving her head a quick shake she took in his perfect eight-pack abdominals, lean torso and broad hairless chest until they reached his forest green eyes. He looked like he was just out of an underwear ad, he was that gorgeous.
A smile tugged at his lips as he raised a brow at her. "Can I help you with something? Lost perhaps?" His voice was deep, satiny smooth and sexy in its own right.
Damn! Well, hello Logan Sinclair!
****
Logan looked down at the young woman who was close to, but not quite, a foot shorter than his 6'4” build in front of him with amusement. He hadn't missed the pause she made at his crotch as her eyes examined every inch of his body, nor did he miss the embarrassed blush that quickly followed. She was girl-next-door cute in her button-fly blue jeans and white blouse and he liked it.
Crossing his arms over his chest, he leaned his shoulder against the door jamb and continued to wait patiently for her to get over her stammering and finally get to the point of her visit. She had him baffled; she had an elegant air to her, screaming refinement and class despite the casual attire, but so nervous.
"Am I supposed to be guessing, ’cause it may take a while if I have to?" he teased.
"This was a bad idea," she murmured, about to turn.
Logan caught her upper arm, stopping her. "Nah, go ahead. What do you need?"
She sighed loudly and ran a shaky hand through her hair. "My name is Angelica Lawson."
She gave him a wry smile. "I'm the daughter–"
His mood immediately darkened and he released her arm as if he'd been burnt. "I know who you are and I want you to leave." He began to close the door on her, but she stepped forward and placed a hand on the door, stopping him.
"Wait. You do?" She closed her eyes, took a deep breath in, released it and opened them back up, her eyes pleading with him. "I really need to talk to you. Please. Just a minute or two... please."
The thought of his adoptive father made his blood boil. And he didn’t have much patience or use for the child his adoptive father chose over him – he wanted nothing to do with either of them. "I have nothing to say to you. Leave now or I’ll call security and have you escorted from the property."
She refused to budge. "Please. Just five minutes."
"No." He attempted to close the door once more, but she once again stopped him.
"Dad's dead," she blurted, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
Ahhh fuck. He knew that already. He had no remorse for the man who aband
oned him and his adoptive mother roughly twenty years ago, or the members of his new family. Logan was a man who held grudges and didn't apologize for it. But at the same time his weakness was seeing a woman – any woman – cry.
His mood softened. "What does that have to do with me? Richard Lawson was nothing to me. I apologize for your loss. But to be frank, why should I care?"
"Money. He left you money."
He huffed, slightly insulted. He opened the door wide to his penthouse, revealing the main room with its cathedral ceilings. The entire room reeked of high society and money. "I HAVE money. I own this building as a matter of fact. You can have whatever is coming to me, with my blessing."
Before he could attempt to shut her out a third time, her mood suddenly changed and she gave him a look of determination as she brushed past him and entered his penthouse.
What the fuck? Is she for real? He watched dumbfounded as she strolled into the main room, and walked over to the large picture window that overlooked Central Park and stared out.
"It's really beautiful from up here."
Relenting, and getting the feeling that the only way he was going to get her to leave his home was to hear her out, he closed the door, walked up behind her and stood at her side.
"Okay, if it means you'll leave, then tell me what you need me to sign – or whatever."
She gave him a relieved smile that tugged at his resolve slightly. If signing something meant that he'd rid himself of Richard Lawson's daughter for good then he was all for it. He had his own small fortune, built from his own hard work without taking a dime from Richard. He'd refused to take money from Richard, not even for college, and he wasn't about to take money from him now that he was dead.
She motioned toward the brown leather sofa. "May I?"
She barges into my house and now she is requesting permission to sit? Unbelievable. "By all means, make yourself at home." If she noticed the sarcasm in his tone, she made no show of it. He watched as she walked over to the sofa, his eyes not helping but dip down to her round ass under the tight denim. His dick immediately went on the alert.
Ahhh dammit!
He quickly made his way over to one of the armchairs facing her and propped one ankle over the opposite knee, concealing any sign of his beginning arousal. He silently cursed himself for answering the door in nothing but boxers. Hell, he cursed even harder that he even answered the door at all.
She ran a hand through her long silken blonde locks and then peered up at him. "Okay, I'll just cut to the chase."
"Please do."
"I need you to come back to Boston with me and live in the manor for a month. At that time the inheritance will be released and we can go our separate ways."
****
His look of condescension turned to one of shock, before he finally burst out laughing. Oh, that can't be good, Angelica thought to herself, as she watched the rapid change of his expressions as he digested the information. But at least she was inside and reasoning with him and that was a start. And there was no way in hell she was leaving without his word to come back with her. However, considering that he was wealthy in his own right, it made this a little trickier than she'd anticipated.
Why couldn't he have been poor? Better yet, so unattractive that her eyes wouldn't want to roam his beautiful body or her mind wouldn't wonder what he was concealing under those boxers. Living with him and not wanting him was going to be a problem, since her body was already tingling just by looking at him, despite his hostile demeanour toward her.
"You're out of your mind Angelica," he finally said once the bout of laughter subsided, with a shake of his head. "No way."
"But, Logan." Her heart began beating rapidly. No, no, no. She needed him to come back with her. "I need the money, you don't understand. I get nothing if you don't agree. I'll be homeless in a month."
He rolled his eyes at her. "Then get a job, princess, because there is no way in fuck I'm leaving my home and my business here in New York to live in Boston for a month. No way!"
"It's only four hours away, you can commute."
He laughed – hard. "No fucking way."
"Please, Logan. I'll do anything you want. Anything. Name it."
Logan huffed. "There's nothing that I want from you, Angelica."
"Anything." She was pleading now, she could hear the desperation in her voice and cringed inwardly at it, but she had no choice.
His expression went blank and his eyes travelled up and down her body, slowly, suggestively. She squirmed on the sofa, his intense stare causing her pussy to throb and her juices to pool between her legs. This was wrong. Wasn't it? Should her body be reacting this way toward him? Did it really matter? Had she not been told and met him on the streets she wouldn't have known who he was to her and it wouldn't have mattered then, why now?
Taking a deep breath in, she released it, clearing the unwanted thoughts from her head. This was neither the time nor the place for crazy thoughts like the ones she was having. "Please."
Once his eyes were finished with their blatant, bordering on lewd, exploration of her body his eyes locked onto hers. "All right. On one condition."
Angelica smiled. Excitement rushed through her and she had to restrain herself from leaping from the sofa, rushing over to him, throwing her arms around his neck and showering him with kisses. "Anything!"
He cocked a brow at her and gave her a sarcastic smile. "Anything."
She nodded. "Anything! Name it and it's yours. Whatever I can do for you."
"No matter what it is?"
"No matter," she confirmed, her eyes dancing with happiness. Besides, what could he possibly want from her? "Just tell me what you want and it's yours."
"All right. I'll do it, but if you say no to anything I request the deal is off and I am back in New York without looking back."
Angelica's smile faded slightly. This didn't sound too good to her. In fact it sounded bad, really bad. "May I ask what it is you want?"
He gave her a wink. "Let's just keep that as a little surprise for now."
Chapter 2
Why am I so nervous? It's a simple business arrangement. That's all. But she couldn't help it. Logan was due to arrive at any moment and there was something about the way they had left things between them... She shook her head at herself. She was being silly. He was there for the money and to help her out. But the look in his eyes when she'd said anything and that smirk on his lips when he told her what he wanted was going to be a surprise made her uneasy.
She peered at her expression in her vanity mirror; something was not right. Earrings! Her diamond stud earrings didn't match the simple black tube dress she was wearing. She opened the top drawer of her vanity and began to look for her silver hoops when a chill ran up her spine.
Her body tensed and she slowly lifted her eyes and screamed.
"Whoa, is that any way to greet your new roommate for the month?"
Spinning around, eyes narrowed, her heart racing, she glared at him and jabbed at his shoulder with her fist. "You jackass! How did you get in here? I didn't hear the doorbell. You nearly gave me a heart attack!"
Laughing, he opened his right palm to display a set of keys before her eyes, moving them to his fingers he gave them a little jingle. "Uncle Clayton gave me a set."
"Well, you could have at least rung the doorbell."
His grin widened. "But I live here. Why would I ring the doorbell, Princess?" He had a little smirk on his face – the smirk – that made her uneasy.
He had a point, she knew this, but it didn't make her less angry. "But this is my private room, Logan."
Logan turned and shrugged as he walked away. "Yeah, I get it. I'm intruding here. I'll just leave and drop the keys back to Uncle Clayton on my way back to New York. Good luck finding a job. You might want to practice putting a smile on your face when asking ‘want fries with that?’"
Oh shit, shit, shit! Chasing after him, she caught him just as he was exiting her room. As her hand enclosed
on his upper arm, he stopped in mid-stride. "I'm sorry. That was rude of me. I was startled. Don't go, please."
Logan slowly turned to face her. He looked down at the keys in his hand then back up at her, meeting her eyes. He was playing with her; she could see the amusement in his gaze. Had he seriously been planning on leaving? She didn't know, but didn't want to chance it.
"All right. I'll stay." He thrust the keys into his pants pocket.
Angelica let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "Good. Thank you."
"You know, it was a long drive and I'm famished. Why don't you go fix me something to eat?"
"Oh, yeah. Sorry, I should have offered you a tour. Let me show you where the kitchen is."
"I already gave myself a tour. No need. I took the bedroom right there." He nodded toward the room two doors down from hers. "But I want you to make me something."
What do I look like, his fucking servant? Oh God! Her eyes widened as she stared up at him, her jaw going slack, as what he had in mind for her started to fall into place. She could see it in his deep green eyes that challenged her to say no.
"So let me get this straight, I’m supposed to be some sort of servant of yours for the next month?"
Logan reached out and touched her cheek, trailing his index finger along her jaw, to grasp her chin in his hand. She wanted to sigh at his sensual, yet possessive touch. She wanted to dislike him, but at the same time she wanted him.
"Something like that," he responded.
She gulped down the lump forming in her throat. She had to suck it up. It was only a month. Once the month was over her inheritance would be hers and she could say goodbye to Logan forever. Maybe seeing her squirm was what he wanted. Two could play that game. Pasting on a broad smile, she nodded; she'd kill the bastard with kindness. "Of course. Anything in particular you'd like prepared... Sir?"
