Chapter 12

CHAPTER 12

PIPER

“ W hat do you mean, follow my heart? ” I say the next morning, shocked when Ruby gives me the frankly crazy advice.

I’ve got her on speaker, my phone resting on my vanity unit as I apply a subtle layer of makeup for the workday. There might be a teensy part of me that’s thinking of how Logan will react when he sees the effort I’ve made.

“Life’s too short for you to let guilt dictate what you do, Piper,” she says. “This is a dream come true for you. It’s Logan .”

“Ruby,” I snap. “I told you because I wanted you to talk me out of it. I didn’t expect this.”

“Maybe I don’t want to talk you out of it; maybe I want you to be happy.”

“But I won’t be happy, will I, when Elliot finds out and tells me he hates me, hates Logan, and he’ll never forgive us? Please, just tell me to forget this. Tell me to be strong.”

Ruby sighs. “I can’t do that. I’m sorry. You don’t regret last night. Maybe you wish you did. Or that it was that simple, but it’s not.”

I take her off speakerphone when I hear the apartment door open. Elliot must be home.

“I’ve got to go. Another day at the office. Thanks for listening, Rubes.”

“Always. I’m sorry I didn’t give you the answer you wanted.”

“Ha, you gave me the answer I wanted. Just not the one I need .”

Ending the call, I walk into the hall. Elliot has already showered and dressed for work.

“Where were you last night?” I ask.

“A friend’s house,” he says, avoiding eye contact. “Are you ready for work?”

I wonder if this has something to do with the mob stuff. In different circumstances, I would outright ask him about it. But when I can still taste his best friend’s lips, when my body is still burning thinking about the searing texts, I feel like I have no right.

“Sure, let’s go.”

Elliot seems withdrawn during the car ride, not saying much.

“How are you feeling?” I ask.

“Hmm?” he replies absentmindedly.

“Are you okay?”

“Fine,” he grunts. Before I can say anything else, he comes to a screeching halt before reaching the office’s parking lot. “Fucking hell .”

“What? Elliot, we’re holding up traffic.”

“Look at The Clam.”

I turn, seeing his concern. The Clam’s front windows are boarded up, shattered glass spreading all over the sidewalk.

“This was them,” Elliot snaps. “This was Sal and his goddamn goons. It’s started. They’re sending a message.”

“What message?”

“Logan needs to let them in, or they won’t stop.”

“He can’t work with the mob,” I say reflexively.

Elliot glares at me. “The mob always gets their way, Piper.” He pulls into the parking lot, shaking his head. “I’m going to talk to Logan. Try to keep your head down. Don’t let any of this concern you. You’re doing a good job. Just focus on that.”

“Elliot.” I touch his arm before he bolts from the car. “If you want to talk, I’m here.”

Hello, hypocrisy…

“I meant what I said,” he tells me. “You don’t need to worry about this. But Logan does.”

I head up to the office, nerves swirling in my belly. I much prefer the sensations Logan provokes in me, the shimmering lust, the desire… even if it comes with an army of guilt on its heels.

Before I can sit at my desk, Milo calls me into his office. “Piper,” he says, smiling. He moves his hand as if to put it on my shoulder and guide me to his desk. I move out of reach, wondering if this will become a problem.

Sure, kissing the CEO and talking dirty with him, that’s fine, but my manager touching my shoulder is the world’s biggest taboo, apparently. I feel like I’m living in some upside-down world.

“I wanted to invite you to a working dinner this evening,” he says. “I’m impressed with your latest copy, and I think we could work up a more general style guide going forward. But we’ve got enough work today to keep us busy…” He leans across the desk, his hand sliding closer. “What do you think?”

I swallow. This is awkward. But I can’t let it continue or even begin.

“Milo, sir, I’m sorry…” Urgh, why am I apologizing when he’s the one being inappropriate? “But I’m here to work, not to form any, you know, relationships or anything like that.”

It’s not the big stand I wanted to make, but at least I got it out there. Never mind that my cheeks are burning, and I can feel the blush moving down my neck. And never mind the beads of sweat slipping down my sides.

Milo laughs, rolling his eyes. “Oh, lord. Is that what I look like? I’m a touchy-feely person. That’s my bad. I’ve been warned about it before. Jeez. I get it.”

“Well, I’m not sure being touchy-feely with your employees is appropriate.”

“You’re right. Of course, you’re right. But it’s not what you think. It’s just my personality. Look…” He touches a picture frame on his desk, facing away from me, and turns it to show a photo of him and another man, their arms wrapped around each other. “That’s me and my husband.”

I laugh. “Are you freaking serious?”

He chuckles, nodding. “Yeah, so, you know… I’m not saying my behavior couldn’t use a few tweaks. But you’re not really my type. The working dinner would be just that: a working dinner.”

“I feel like a douche.”

“Don’t be silly. If you ever feel like anything inappropriate is happening in the workplace, you’ve got every right to raise concerns.”

What if I’m fantasizing about the CEO of the whole company? What if we’re doing more than fantasizing?

“Thanks,” I tell him. “In that case, yes, a working dinner sounds great.”

I spend the rest of the day rooted to my chair, stubbornly focusing on my work. It’s not just that I want to do well here. When I’m thinking about work and choosing the best words and phrases to connect our product with people, I don’t have to think about Logan.

That’s until Milo approaches my desk. “Hey, big shot,” he says, his tone friendly. I obviously misjudged him. “Mr. Wolfe would like to see you in his office. Something about the prototypes.”

“Shouldn’t you go?” I ask.

Milo shakes his head. “If Mr. Wolfe wants you to spearhead the prototypes, he has his reasons.”

Sure, maybe it’s that, or perhaps it’s the fact that his body is still pulsing with the memory of last night. I try not to let any of my misgivings show. The last thing I want is for Elliot to find out, obviously, but the second to last thing is for any of my coworkers to learn what’s going on.

In the elevator, I adjust my outfit. I unbutton my shirt, then button it back up. What am I thinking? I don’t want him to find me as irresistible in real life as he does in his texts. Do I?

Logan is standing when I enter his office. A visible thrum of tension moves through him. His sleeves are rolled up, and I see his arms tense, his jawline emphasized as he tries to control himself.

“Mr. Wolfe,” I say.

He raises an eyebrow as if to say, So, that’s how we’re playing this.

“Did you hear what happened to The Clam?” I go on, desperate for any change of subject.

He nods seriously. “Somebody threw bricks through their windows in the middle of the night. The security footage shows men in masks, no sign of who they are or why they did it. But it seems like somebody is sending a message.” He walks around the desk. “But that’s not what I’m here. I don’t want you to worry about that.”

“If my brother and my…” Whoa, I need to slow down. I almost just freaking said, boyfriend . “And you’re involved with the mob. Of course, I’m going to be concerned.”

He takes two phones from his desk. “I wanted to give you the second phone. The tech department has enabled the screen share option on Forever Love with some initial animations. I want your ideas on using strategic copy as part of the process. What should the notifications say? What should any pop-up windows say and look like? That sort of thing.”

He hands me the phone. When I take it, our hands touch, and a shimmer moves up my arm. Just being close to him is like being in a sauna.

When I slip the phone into my shirt pocket, I can’t help but notice the way his eyes flit to my breasts. I can’t stop the sensations from sizzling over me.

He must be able to see the look on my face. He lets out a trembling breath, then steps forward and wraps his arm around me.

“Logan,” I whisper, but it comes out as more of a moan than an actual word.

“I know,” he groans, his manhood pressing through his pants against my belly, solid and urgent. “Tell me to stop. Tell me that this is wrong.”

“I can tell you it’s wrong,” I murmur, sliding my touch over his arms and indulgently squeezing his firm muscles. “But I can’t tell you the other thing…”

What are we doing? What’s wrong with us?

When he leans down to kiss me, it’s as if I can somehow let those questions go. I can taste his lips instead. Our mouths open, lust driving us as our tongues caress each other. He possessively moves his hand to my ass, lifting me off my feet.

Memories mix with the present steaminess when he carries me to the desk. It’s just like our first encounter, only so much hotter because we’ve texted about what we’d do to each other if this occasion were to present itself.

He growls through the tight press of our mouths. He can’t stop himself.

But I must. Screw our age gap. I need to be the mature one.

I push my hand against his chest. It takes all my willpower. It’s almost painful to stop this when I want to keep going.

“We have to stop,” I whisper.

“I know,” he says passionately.

“No, seriously. I can’t give you what you want.” I slide off the desk and take several steps away from him. I must create some distance, or I won’t be able to listen to my own advice. “This has gone far enough too many times. I can’t be the woman you want me to be.”

He narrows his eyes in confusion. “Who do you think I want you to be?”

“It seems like you want me to be a woman who fucks you on your desk,” I hiss. I’m not angry at him. I’m angry at the situation, at myself, but that doesn’t stop my voice from wavering. “I’m not that, Logan.”

“I’m not sayin?—”

“I’m the furthest thing from that,” I snap. “I’m a virgin who just wants to finally, after so long, do something right, okay? We have to be better than this.”

I spin before I can see his reaction and bolt from the room, resisting the urge to run.

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.