Chapter 35
Logan
Deciding to go into the office on Thursday morning, regardless of my face, which looks like a unicorn shat a rainbow all over it.
I’m climbing the walls sitting around here, and Rose, God love her, is driving me up the wall with all her coddling.
If I thought a few weeks ago that I wanted her here full-time, I’ve changed my mind.
She can come and go and give me my fucking space back.
Grimacing as I feel like a dick for thinking that, I know it’s only because I’d rather it was Serena taking care of my every whim, especially the whim of my hard cock, which, if I thought was excessive before, is now getting to the point where I have to jerk off twice a day.
It’s just not the same as sinking into a hot, wet pussy, even gloved up, it’s a feeling I miss.
But now that my dick has gotten soaked by Serena, I will never want or need another pussy again.
She has captured every part of me. My heart, my mind, my body, my soul, and my cock. They all belong to her.
Striding past the reception desk, which houses a fierce-looking security guy and not Rue, I take a moment to be grateful that Serena has her. She will protect her when I can’t.
Allison comes hurrying over, her face stern when she looks at my face. “You should be at home.”
“I’m going crazy. And I don’t look that bad.”
“That’s up for debate. I told everyone you were in a car crash.”
“Fair enough.”
“Uhm…”
Stalking past her, I stop dead when I see a blonde braid attached to a woman sitting at Serena’s desk, and my heart leaps in my chest.
“Logan,” Allison says quickly, scurrying up to the woman. “This is Katrina.”
When I realize it isn’t Serena, the only word I can think of for my reaction is ‘balk,’ but that doesn’t even cover what I do with that information.
“Excuse me?” I spit out, giving a scathing glare over the girl who has risen and turned to look at me with a bright smile.
If I didn’t know better, I would say they were sisters, but with Serena being the older and far more attractive one. She has the same long blonde hair, all neat and braided. A cleavage that is showing more than it should. A bright smile, green eyes that are wide and guileless, and her name…
“Fucking dick!” I spit out and storm past her and Allison to kick my office door with such force that it breaks the lock and bounces off the wall before nearly smacking me in the face as I barge through the opening. “That’s it. That’s fucking it.”
Sitting down, I hold my hand up to Allison as she bustles in, flustered by my response to the half-assed clone, she is lost for words, which is a first. I’ve never seen her so out of her depth before.
“What is going on with you?” she asks after a few moments, getting her poise back. “You are making a scene.”
“Am I?” I grit out. “Who gives a fuck? Get that girl out of my sight.”
“Again?” she complains, throwing her head back in a gesture made for teenager sulks, not middle-aged women in a professional setting.
“That one has to go.”
“Quentin said—”
“I don’t give a rat’s ass what he said or did or will do. She needs to go.”
Allison purses her lips and huffs. “He is the Chairman of the Board,” she says eventually.
“Which doesn’t give him jurisdiction over who my assistant is. I owed him one for Serena, this…child…does not belong in my presence.”
She blinks and silently backs out, no doubt to tell tales to her Society superior, but honestly, at this point, I don’t care.
Katrina is about twenty. I know what game Quen is playing, and he’s sick.
He’s trying to lure me away from his niece with a younger, tastier bait, but he has absolutely no idea that I’m as turned off by Katrina as I am at the thought of screwing Allison.
Serena is my type—end of story. There is no in-between, there is no replacement, there is no one else. Never in the history of my sex life have I ever gone for a younger woman apart from Serena, and that is only because of who she is. The age thing is significant, but nothing at the same time.
It’s time to put an end to this shitshow once and for all. Rue gave me a weapon, and I intend to use it.
Rising to close the door, quietly this time, I pull my phone out and scroll through the contacts.
Hitting dial, I wait while it rings.
“Logan Carter. To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Viktor. We need to talk.”
“Why, yes, we do.”