by Valia Lind
"Well, you earn yourself a lot of points by—" he gives me a quick look and I understand. By getting to me. That's what earned him all of this freedom and I guess I'm not really surprised. We don't talk further, until he motions for me to come over to the desk.
I come around the side, watching him pull up blueprints on the screen. My mind takes snapshots of the layout as Logan scrolls through them silently. We both know what my mind can do, we don't have to discuss it in a room that is probably being watched and listened in on.
After he's shows me all the blueprints, even those from surrounding buildings, he pulls the main one back up. Giving me a quick smile, he starts to go over the event.
"Lucy left us an itinerary for the event. They want it to be a typical high-rollers fundraiser. Foster needs to meet with a few heads of corporations, but he also wants public coverage."
"How is he planning on getting everyone he needs here in such a short notice?"
"Most of them are already here. They were coming for a meeting and Foster is turning it into an event."
"For publicity." I say, understanding.
"For protection." Logan replies, looking up at me. And I understand that too. If he makes it public, if he makes himself look like the good guy, any kind of attempt at destroying him will show itself as being a ploy against the good people of Chicago. He'll be the martyr, the one being attacked, instead of the other way around. It's brilliant, really. You make yourself public and let them do the protecting for you.
Logan pushes a few more buttons, then stands up. There's a heaviness about him that I've noticed before, but today, it's just that much more evident. It's getting hard to pretend that I don't care about him.
But really, I'm only pretending to myself because Logan, and the rest of the world, can see it. Trying not to think like that is getting harder and harder.
We leave the room behind and after a quick wave in Lucy's direction, we get into the elevator. All of this running around for Foster and the crazy onslaught of emotions is making my head spin. I'm not sure what I thought would happen, but it wasn't any of this. I definitely didn't expect to be this wrapped up in Logan or be so close to him at all times. I need to put some distance between us before I completely forget that I'm supposed to hate him.
And that's the whole gist of it. I have to keep reminding myself that I don't trust him, that he betrayed me and I don't understand why. It's not like I have trouble holding grudges for long periods of time, so why is Logan different?
"Tasia?" Logan's voice breaks through my thoughts and I realize we've come to our floor and he's waiting for me to get out. I give him a tired smile, following him out of the building. We get into the car in silence, because I honestly don't know what to think anymore.
"You okay?" He asks, concern evident in his voice.
"You seem to ask me that a lot nowadays," I chuckle humorlessly. He returns it with an encouraging smile and for some reason, I feel like weeping.
"What now?" I ask, instead of answering or crying. If he notices my evasion maneuvers, he doesn't comment, just starts the car.
"Now, we go shopping."
I don’t bother hiding my sigh of exasperation.
* * *
Walking into a department store, I'm assaulted by images of the last time Logan and I went shopping. We were both soaking wet, on the run for our lives. It wasn't by choice then either.
Logan seems to know exactly where he's going when he steers me in the direction of the stairs. He's holding my hand again and no matter how conflicting my emotions are right now, I can't make myself let go.
He leads me in the section filled with dresses and a sudden dread washes over me. I'm not exactly sure what terrifies me more. The fact that I'll have to wear a dress or that I have to find one under Logan's careful guidance. I'm pretty sure it's the latter.
"So what am I supposed to wear to this thing?" I ask, looking around me nervously. I wasn't exactly raised to wear dresses. The last time I did was the day I met Logan. I really don’t want to think about that right now.
"Whatever you like." I glance down at myself at his words, motioning at my clothing. "Except that," he hurries on to add. I laugh at his mock terrified expression and feel better somehow.
"O-kay." I do a 360, before leveling Logan with a look. "I'm not wearing some skimpy hooker dress either."
"Did I say anything?" He replies, raising his hands in the air as if to ward off an attack. Shaking my finger at him, I walk over to the first row of dresses.
"But can I make a suggestion?" He asks from behind me and I turn to see him leaning against a wall, arms crossed in front of him. "Make it something green."
There's so much heat in his gaze, we can power a small city. Spinning back around, I look at the dresses in front of me trying not to react to his comment any more than I already did. But my mind won't let the images go and just like that I'm transported to our first meeting and the green dress I was wearing then. It was the first time in ages that I wished to be just a normal girl. All because of Logan.
Just to spite him, and get a grip on some of these raging hormones, I grab a bunch of red dresses. I hear him chuckle behind me, but I don't turn around as I move on to another rack. Logan doesn't follow. I pile my arms high with different dresses, but nothing really strikes me as amazing. Not that I really should care about that. I should be picking something practical. I'm not here to impress anyone. I hate that the thought tastes a lie.
Stupid hormones.
I book it to the dressing rooms before I can make myself appear as a bigger fool than I already have. I’m either tripping over my feet or seething mad and killing people. Man, I'm a real winner these days.
After shutting myself safely behind the doors of the dressing room, I finally feel like I can breathe. Constantly being around people, even Logan, is wearing on me in ways I never expected.
The knock on the door makes me jump, but thankfully I don't squeak on account of it.
"What?" I snap, knowing full well who's on the other side.
"Aren't we just cheery today?"
"Logan, what do you want?" I reply, feeling exasperated.
"I want you to try on a couple of dresses I found."
I'm not sure how to respond to that, so I don't. If he chose a dress for me that I'd actually want to wear, I'll probably scream. Legit, scream out loud.
"Princess, it's not the end of the world," he sounds amused, and a little unsure. The use of the nickname definitely does things to my insides and I almost growl aloud.
What is wrong with me? I yank the door open, glaring daggers at Logan. He holds two dresses in his hands, both of them a shade of green and both of them beautiful. I can tell without even trying them on that they would look amazing.
Which makes me even more angry. Placing my hands on my hips, I try to look as menacing as humanly possible.
"Don't look at me like that. You know full well these are exactly what you would've picked if you weren't so stubborn."
He thrusts the hangers into my hands and then turns around and walks away. Shutting the door behind me, I strip and grab one of the dresses Logan found for me.
He's right. It's exactly like what I would've picked for myself. It looks similar to the dress I wore that first night, princess cut and a lighter shade of green. I take it off and reach for the other one.
It's a deeper green, almost two shades darker than the previous one. It's body fitting, with a flare skirt that starts at my knees. There's a layer of green lace over it and a stripe of black over my waist. It's the most stunning piece of clothing I've ever seen and there's no way I can pull it off.
I put it back on the hanger and reach for one of the red dresses I chose for myself. It's a simple, floor length gown, with a deep v cut in the front and back. I pull it on as my eyes land on the green dress again. Irritated with myself, I almost rip the red dress off me and reach for the green lacy fabric once more.
Once I put it on, I know it's the one. There
's absolutely no doubt in my mind that this dress is for me. It's even more perfect than the first one I wore. It hugs my curves, a perfect contrast against my complexion.
My mother's ring sits comfortably against my chest, the necklace surprisingly not taking away from the look of the dress. The deep green makes my eyes stand out and for the first time, I truly feel like the princess Logan keeps naming me to be. I blink the tears away.
I'm not exactly sure how long I stand there staring at myself before I snap out of it. There's no way I can’t not buy it and I'm sure I'll have to deal with Logan's smugness about it all evening, but I don't care. If I'm already pretending to be something I'm not, why not pretend like I deserve to wear a pretty dress too?
Not even bothering with the other dresses, I put my clothes back on and leave the dressing room. Logan is leaning against the wall, right outside the hallway.
"What, I don't get to see the dresses on you, before you decide on the one?" He asks, mock pouting. I know he noticed the one dress in my hands and is trying not to gloat.
"No." I say, and head for the shoe department without another word. He watches me silently as I pull down a pair of black pumps and try them on. These will do nicely. As I sit down to take them off, I feel his eyes on me, but refuse to look up.
Both items in hand, I set off toward the register. I can feel him moving behind me and when we reach the front, he leans on the counter, looking down at me with the smile.
"If you say I told you so, I'm punching your teeth out." I growl. The cashier freezes in the process of ringing up the dress and shoes at my tone. Logan turns to the lady, giving her a winning smile.
"She's kidding. It's that dry sense of humor. I can't help but love it." The last line is delivered looking at me, and the air around us grows that much thicker. The tension is ever present between us, but with the wordlove now hanging in that space, I'm not sure I can keep my carefully placed mask in place.
I won't look at him.
I won't.
Pulling out my debit card, I feel a pang of sadness thinking about Uncle Freddie and how he helped me set up this account for undercover operations. Shaking my head to clear the melancoly away, I pay for the stuff and head for the door without checking to see if Logan follows. Once outside, I realize that I didn't see him buy anything. When I turn to ask him about it, he's already looking at me in that unnerving way of his.
"What?" I ask, unable to help myself.
"Nothing." He replies, narrowing his eyes a little at my tone. But I'm not about to apologize.
"Did you need to get anything?" I ask instead.
"No. I made a call. It'll be waiting for me at the hotel."
"Hotel?"
He's already walking back toward the car, so I rush to catch up. Unlocking the door, I dump my packages inside and get in the passenger seat.
"Yes, hotel. You didn't think we'd be going back to Galena before the party, did you?"
"I don't know what to think anymore," I reply honestly, surprising both of us. He reaches over and gives me a sympathetic squeeze on the knee, before turning the car on and backing out.
"I also made you an appointment at their salon. It'll be easier than getting all the stuff for you to get ready yourself." He shrugs his shoulders at my shocked look.
"Well, you just thought of everything." I say sarcastically.
"It's what I do,” he replies in a cocky tone, with a massive grin plastered across his face.
That statement says a lot. That's why Foster is such a big fan of Logan. Because Logan does think of everything. He's a planner, one step ahead of everyone. It makes me wonder, not for the first time, what is his agenda exactly, when it comes to me? He betrays me, then he saves me. If anything in this world was confusing, it's his attitude. I want to ask, but of course, that would be pointless. He hasn't truthfully answered even one question I've asked since I met him. Not really. He only gives me bits and pieces of information to go on.
If that's not irritating, I don't know what is.
When we arrive at the hotel, I notice that it's the same place the event will be held. Can't believe I didn't think of that. Logan takes my bags upstairs, leaving me in the hands of a couple of ladies at the hotel’s salon.
They start gushing over me and what a cute couple Logan and I make almost as soon as he walks away. For some odd reason, I don't even bother contradicting them. Instead, I relax in the chair and let them pamper me.
After all, today I'm pretending to belong again.
* * *
Logan is not in the room when I finally make my way upstairs.
It's already six o'clock by that time, so I don't waste time sitting around. Taking my dress and shoes into the bathroom, I take a minute to admire myself in the mirror. The women did an amazing job with my makeup and hair. Even better than last time.
My eyes look bigger, more intense, without looking like I caked on a bunch of products. My lips are deep red. My hair is curled, half of it swept up and pinned away from my neck, while the other side falls softly against my shoulders. I look like a glamorous actress, waiting to make her way down the red carpet.
Hearing the door open, I step out into the main room. Logan is looking at his phone, so he doesn't see me enter, but I take a moment to admire how good he looks in a tux. As if he feels my eyes on him, he glances up and the complete look of awe on his face almost knocks me flat on my back.
If I live a thousand lives, I may never get over the adoration and appreciation I see in Logan's eyes.
"Hey," he whispers and then stops, as if he can't think of the right words to say. I smile up at him, trying my best not to go into complete swoon just from the sound of his voice.
"Hey," I reply, because that's all I can manage.
"You are breathtaking," he says, taking a step closer.
"You don't look so bad yourself."
I try to sound unaffected.
I try to act nonchalant.
But all I want to do is run into his caring arms right now.
He must read the want in my expression, because he takes another step toward me. I see myself mirrored in his eyes; eyes which are hooded with the same desire running through me. But we can't. Backing away from him is the hardest thing that I've ever done, but I have to do it.
I have to.
Logan sees me make the tiniest of moves back and stops. Pain flashes in his gaze, fast and fierce, before he shuts it all off. His mask of indifference falls back into place on his face, much like the one I wear, and we're back to business. He won't ask me any questions, and I won't beg him to. Now is not the time.
"People have been arriving for about thirty minutes. Foster is already here. We should head downstairs and make ourselves seen." Logan says, and even though the desire is curbed for now, there's still warmth in his voice that takes me by surprise. He keeps doing that, surprising me. I can't get an idea of what he might do next. But I guess that's how my mind is working right now as well, so we're definitely a pair.
"Show time, huh?" I attempt a smile, hoping it doesn't look too forced. For some reason, I can't shake off the dread settling in the pit of my stomach at the thought of going downstairs. I'm not sure if it's because I'll be in the presence of Foster again or if it’s because of my uncontrollable emotions and responses to people and the things they do and say. I’m just not ready for tonight to be here already, it came to quickly. I want to hide in this hotel room, with Logan, and forget about my mission.
I want to be a regular girl.
I don't want to be a killer.
I want to learn how to love.
"Hey," Logan begins, clearly seeing the dismay splashed across my face. He takes a cautious step toward me, as if he’s afraid I'm going to run away. When he notices that I’m not going to take off running, he reaches out with his arms and pulls me close to his body.
I cling to him like a lifeline.
"Remember the promise I made you?" Logan whispers against my hair. "We'll get through this. Just
remember to fight."
I'm not sure why he needs to voice that reminder, I must look even more terrified than I feel. Or maybe he feels the same kind of trepidation hanging over tonight that I do.
I feel like right now is the only real moment we have.
Pushing away from him ever so slightly, I study his handsome face. There's that pull again, the one that made me trust him in the first place. It's still there and much stronger than before. For this one brief moment, I trust it.
I trust him.
I reach for him and he meets me half way. Our kiss is sweet, tender, and it’s everything. We're not making promises anymore. We're just trying to survive. And at this moment, Logan is the only thing keeping me afloat.
It ends too soon.
It's not enough.
It'll never be enough.
I pull back and he takes my hand, placing it in the crook of his elbow. No words are needed as we leave the room behind and descend to the first floor ballroom.
The instant I step inside the main room, I'm the old Tasia. Not the girl who shared a kiss with a guy she cares about, but the cold and calculating one. The practiced smile of a hunter falls to my lips as I survey the room in front of me. There are a dozens of people standing in groups, all dressed in their finest. I smoothly run my hand over my mother's ring, now hidden by the neckline of my dress, but just knowing it's there calms me.
Logan can feel the change in me, I'm sure, because I feel it in him too. He's all business now and that's how it needs to be. I notice Foster on the other side of the room and with one last look between us, we make our way toward him.
"Miss Snow, you look lovely tonight," Foster says the moment we're in front of him. Oddly, I feel disgust and embarrassment at the same time. Such contrast to the last time I met him at an event. That time I wanted to murder him on the spot. Now, I don't know what I want anymore.
"Thank you," I say, manners prevailing.
"I'm glad to see you're both here. Don't go too far."
Cryptic as ever, Foster delivers his line then is pulled away by one of his many henchmen. This whole affair is making me edgy. I haven't punched anything in far too long.
