Chapter 14
Penelope
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Logan’s voice booms from the entrance of his office.
I finish setting an enormous vase filled with extravagant pink flowers on the corner of his desk and then swipe my hands together. “Adding the pièce de résistance, of course.”
A proud smile curves my lips when I turn to find his mouth slack with his suit jacket hanging from one hand and his coffee in the other. “No, no, no.”
I flick a flamingo bobblehead wearing sunshades and a Hawaiian shirt. “What, is pink not your color?”
When he spots the set of plush suede chairs behind me, his gaze turns nuclear.
“Oh! Here, let me fix that.” I take the paper cup from his hand before pouring what remains into a hot pink ‘Little Miss Bossy Pants’ mug. His eyes cross when I boop his nose. “There you go. All better.”
He forcefully sets the cup down on his desk, sloshing some of the liquid onto the heart-shaped desk mat. “You’ve lost your mind if you think I’m keeping all this in here.”
While he sifts through stacks of glittery file folders, fuzzy feather pens, and pink sticky notes, I sashay past my equally decked out workspace to the light switch at the front of the room.
“You haven’t even seen the best part.” I flip the overhead lights off and the dimmer switch on, and squeal, “Glitter lights!”
They swathe the room in a warm pink and white glow, and I clap excitedly, thoroughly enjoying the scowl I’m rewarded.
“Turn them off, Pen.”
I do as he’s asked, pouting at his unusually sour attitude. “Oh, come on. This place needed some life, and luckily for you, I’m the right gal to supply it.”
He rolls his chair out, reading the front of the decorative pillow on his seat aloud. “Admit it, life would be boring without me.”
“I’m the ‘me’ it’s referring to, of course—eep!” I jump out of the way when he tosses the pillow at me.
“Not sure ‘boring’ is what comes to mind.”
“Ah, there it is.” I plop my ass into the chair across from him. “I knew you couldn’t hold back a smile forever.”
He does his very best to hide it, but it only makes those dimples more noticeable.
“Hard to be grumpy when you’re surrounded by the happiest color in the rainbow, am I right?”
“You do know pink isn’t part of…” With a heavy sigh, he says, “Actually, you’re right.”
I beam a smile at him before hanging my legs over the side of the chair. “Thank you.”
“I hope you enjoyed a restful weekend, because we’ve got a busy week ahead of us.”
He unlocks his computer while I lazily kick my feet, staring up at the ceiling. “What woefully boring office chores will I be subjected to today?”
“My father has decided to host a fundraiser next weekend to help spread the word about Summit Estates in Keerah.” That jerks my gaze toward him. “And to support the underprivileged, of course.”
“Right, the entire purpose of hosting such an event.”
He leans forward on his elbows. “Even the most successful charities in the world utilize their resources for personal gain, Penelope. Be it money, shelter, or sex, everyone has an agenda.”
Dorthea and Ricardo don’t have an agenda, but I won’t tell him that. Especially when I remember Ida and his connection to the harbor. I don’t want to give him any more reasons to invade my happy space.
“Forgive my ignorance, but if this is for Summit Estates, shouldn’t you be the one leading this whole thing?”
He bangs the keys on the keyboard harder than before, ignoring my question entirely. “There’s a list of things we’ll need to take care of to prepare for the event. Since Dad took the liberty of choosing the venue, your job today will be organizing the guest list and coming up with a theme.”
Logan’s always had this undeniable magnetism. His very presence is a powerful current that’s impossible to resist, and it’s infuriating that Silas maintains control over him even now.
“And which charity will the Andersons be donating to?” I ask, not hiding my sarcasm. “One that serves to fill more pockets than actually give back to the community, I presume.”
His eyes capture mine, showing a brief, and unexpected, amount of vulnerability before turning back to his task. “The food bank.”
I carefully sit upright, regretting my tone immediately. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be,” he mutters, but I still am. “We’ll have three meetings to attend after lunch. First, working with the board to set our budget, then we’ll discuss the finer details with the vendors, and lastly, coordinating volunteers.”
“Shit…” Mondays and Saturdays are my days to grab food and other supplies for the group home. I planned to stop by the market before Carrie and I go out tonight, but I can’t do that if Logan’s going to keep me in meetings all evening long.
“Is there a problem?” he asks, cocking his head.
I nibble my lower lip, contemplating how much to reveal. I could tell him about the group home—but now that I’ve seen Logan living in his father’s shadow, it’s more clear than ever that I can’t trust him. He’s lost the tender parts of who he once was, and maybe it’s the momma bear in me, but I’ve vowed to protect those kids at all costs.
I love them far too much to disappoint them.
“I have plans tonight that can’t be rearranged,” I say as sternly as possible.
“Is that right?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but it’s ladies’ night at the Azúcar Lounge, and Carrie scored us and some friends impossible VIP reservations. She’ll kill me if I’m late.” His chair creaks when he gradually sits back, and I’m forced to swallow my pride. “Could Declan go in my place? Just for the last meeting, and I swear, I’ll be extra helpful for the rest.”
He considers me long enough that I squirm.
“She’s only staying with me for another week before ending her vacation at the ranch with our parents. I may never get this much time with her again. Don’t make me beg.”
And quit looking at me like you like the idea of me doing just that.
“All right.”
“Thank you,” I say with a sigh of relief.
Logan’s heels rise to the corner of his desk as he swipes a feather-topped pen across the smirk on his lips. I know he’s up to something before he even speaks. “Declan can take your place, on the condition that he and I accompany you tonight.”
I blanch. “W-what? Why?”
“It’s been a while since I’ve been to Azúcar, and I could use a night out.” He shrugs, perfectly calm and collected when he adds, “You do owe me a date, after all.”
I couldn’t be so lucky for him to forget about that, now could I?
The very idea of the two of us doing anything remotely close to what a couple does on a date induces a flutter of panic.
“You know damn well Carrie’s not going to be happy about this.”
“Your demon-sister doesn’t scare me.” He raps his knuckles on the desk. “In fact, I bet by the end of the night, she’ll even like me.”
Oh boy. My stomach turns at the thought of telling her about this new development.
I try for a different excuse. “You’re aware we’ll be having fun, right?”
“What’s your point?”
“Oh, nothing. Nothing at all.” Waving a hand in his direction, I add, “Aside from you being dreadfully unfun.”
“Please,” he scoffs, “I’m a riot.”
When I bark a laugh, his gaze narrows critically. “Obviously, you haven’t spent much time with yourself.”
“I believe it was you who said I needed to… what was it again? Live a little.”
Dammit, I did say that, didn’t I?
“Fine.” I’ll figure out a way to break it to her later. Maybe if I promise that she doesn’t have to speak to him, she’ll be more agreeable. “What time should we meet you there?”
I should know by now that I can’t get off that easily. He’s going to wring every ounce of torture from me he possibly can. “I don’t think so, sunshine. Since this is now a proper date, we’ll be picking you both up at eight o’clock sharp.”
Rotten bastard.
“And what am I expected to wear, sir?” I bite back, recalling the way he goaded me at Adventure Park. “Fresh out of corsets in my company-provided wardrobe, I’m afraid.”
He lets those blues wander from the top of my head down to my scrunching toes.
A slow, curling grin graces his face when he says, “Surprise me.”
* * *
Carrie shimmies in the show-stopping blood-red dress she stole from my closet. Logan’s oddly accurate guess at my clothing and shoe size—and my sister’s—is something I’m trying not to give too much thought to, but I can’t deny the man’s got taste.
“Didn’t I tell you to wear something sexy?”
“This is sexy.” I adjust my black leather shorts and sweetheart neckline crop top self-consciously. “But it’s also comfortable, and when you’re my age, you’ll understand the importance of merging the two.”
“You look like an assassin,” she retorts. “One with great tits, but defo has murder on the mind.”
Well, she’s right about the last part. Choking the life out of Logan has been especially tempting lately.
My lace-up boots, paired with a deep purple gloss and dark eyeshadow exude the ‘suck it, Mr. Anderson’ vibe I was striving for, but what did he expect? Me to look like her?
“Oh, thank god Javier is driving us,” she says when she spots him pulling up in Logan’s modified Escalade. “I was going to fight you if you expected me to walk to the club from the bus station.”
My heart beats out of control when the car comes to a complete stop.
“Uh, sis. There’s something you need to know about tonight.” Naturally, I haven’t clued her in on who’s accompanying us tonight. And that’s mainly because, one way or another, she’s going to lose her shit. And also, because the last fucking thing I need is another damn lecture. “I-I sort of wanted to wait to tell you…”
Her heels click against the pavement as we approach the back of the vehicle. “Now, this is what I’m talking about! Riding in style, living in luxury, and best of all, not taking the bus or shacking up in that shitty apartment you were staying in.”
Her opinion of where and how I was living my life isn’t exactly a secret, but to hear it voiced so callously still stings.
“Glad you’ve changed your tune, sis.”
Javier’s greeting masks my grumbling before he pops open the back door, and I wince.
“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Carrie says when first Declan, then Logan, casually steps out of the car.
A lightweight, all-black suit and shirt combo molds itself around Logan’s body like the damn thing was tailor-made for him–and given his taste in finery, it probably was. But unlike his unshaven scruff, Declan’s cheeks are smooth, and he’s wearing a loose white dress shirt, hunter-green pants, and brown designer shoes.
“Ladies,” Declan drawls, roving his hungry gaze over my sister’s form before glancing at me and Logan. A frown replaces his salacious grin. “Aw, no fair. I didn’t know we were coordinating outfits.”
Logan’s simmering perusal travels from the black boots on my feet and up my thighs before lingering on my mostly exposed chest and stomach.
Leave it to this infuriating man to find my rebellious outfit alluring.
As if her brain is just catching up, Carrie shakes her head. “Wait, wait. They’re going out with us tonight?”
“Pshh. No.” I hum a nervous laugh, giving them a warning glare to play along. “I have no idea what they’re doing here.”
My sister squints at me skeptically. “Yeah, I’m not buying that.”
“Okay, okay.” My arms slap at my sides, exasperated. “Yes. They’re coming.”
“Seriously, Penelope? What the hell?”
Logan’s fully amused when he pipes up, “Technically, we’re on a date.”
Her head whips around so fast, I’m shocked her eyeballs don’t fly right out of her head. “A date?”
“It’s not a real date. I lost a bet,” I explain, as if that somehow negates the fact that he’s here, hogging all the air, and very much expecting me to spend the evening with him.
As if he isn’t right in front of her, she grits, “For the record, I’m not going to be nice to him.”
“Carrie,” I groan.
“In case you’ve forgotten, he broke your heart. Never mind that the guy’s held the top spot on the list of people I’d like to strangle for literally ever.”
Embarrassment creeps up my neck. I could have lived the rest of my life pretending Logan didn’t break my heart, let alone actually tell him he had.
When he glowers at her, I put myself between them, keeping Carrie at my back while mumbling an awkward, “Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing for other people,” he says in that bossy way of his. But his tone is otherwise gentle, and his gaze is shockingly supportive.
A subtle reminder that I have the power to control this impulse of mine, even though, right now, it feels impossible.
Carrie reinserts herself between us. “Don’t talk to her like you own her.”
It takes some effort for him to pull his attention away from me.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Logan retorts apathetically.
When she steps toe to toe with him, Declan and I exchange wide-eyed stares.
“Come on, guys. Let’s just go.” I attempt to spare myself further embarrassment, but she charges on.
“You don’t deserve her, Logan.” He absorbs the brunt of her anger in silence. “You didn’t then, and you especially don’t now.”
His eyes flick to mine briefly, and I watch the muscles in his throat feather as he swallows. “I’m well aware of my unworthiness when it comes to your sister, Miss Vance.”
My insides knot at the intensity of that all-consuming stare, and I’m trapped, unable to look away, even when he breaks eye contact first.
“I don’t know how you finagled your way into joining us tonight, but if you don’t want me to break my heel off in your ass, I suggest you keep your hands to yourself and treat her with nothing but respect. Capice?”
“What I do with my hands is entirely up to Penelope,” he says with a mocking smile.
I blush furiously when I spin her away from him. “Declan, have you met my completely normal, not homicidal sister, Carrie?”
Humor dances across his lips before he offers us a cheeky wink. “If she’s gonna bust his balls like that all night, I think we’ll get along just fine.”
Matching his smile, Carrie breezes past Logan to where Declan offers to help her inside the car. But when I try to follow, I’m stopped by a wall of Logan.
I’m dodging his gaze like mad as he takes a careful step forward. “We should probably get going.”
His chest comes within inches of mine, my avoidance intensifying that slow-growing smirk. “You are a filthy, filthy liar, sunshine.”
“Telling her before now wouldn’t have changed the outcome, believe me.” I jerk my chin up defensively, unsure if it’s warranted, or if it’s because being this close to him is utterly terrifying. “And in case no one’s told you lately, you’re unbearably obnoxious.”
“Sir?” Javier gestures for us to enter the vehicle, but Logan clearly has a bone to pick with me.
“I’ve got it from here, thank you.” He dismisses Javier with a half-hearted wave while I gawk at the man before me.
“Something wrong?” he rumbles, all up in my space as if he belongs there.
I wrinkle my nose at the cologne he’s wearing. “Actually, I’ve got a running list of complaints, and the way you smell is at the tippy-top of it.”
He frowns. “What’s wrong with the way I smell?”
“That cologne you’re wearing is gaudy and offensive.”
I don’t tell him that I hate the way it masks his natural essence–the one that smells like walking through the woods, laced with fresh pine and the earthy undertones. The same one branded on all my best memories.
“Noted,” he drones with sarcasm.
“Let’s see here.” I count each one on my fingers. “Enforcing a dress code, requiring me to live wherever you choose, encroaching on my personal time outside of work, having horrid taste in office decor… Shall I go on?”
As if he can’t help himself, he reaches for the chunky bracelets on my wrist, rubbing one of them between his fingers. “Most women would be thankful to have an entire wardrobe hand-picked for them, never mind a two-thousand-square-foot apartment with miles of ocean for their view.”
“Well, I’m not most women.” I swat his hand. “It’s a miracle my sex life managed to escape your control.”
His pupils widen, thinning the blue of his irises. “I’m not ashamed to admit that I was tempted.”
The raw sexuality drenching those words has me swallowing hard. “Then maybe I should thank you for sparing me the chore of blowing you under your desk each morning.”
The tension between us crackles until it’s on the verge of snapping, and that throaty chuckle does nothing but amplify the charge.
“While having these lips around my cock is a tempting thought, I wouldn’t start my morning with you on your knees.” He watches his thumb brush across my lower lip, and the humming noise he makes is both delicate and spine-tinglingly sexy. “Ladies first, as they say.”
A vivid image of us in his office with my legs draped over those big shoulders assaults me. There’s no doubt in my mind he would take his time fucking my aching core with that wicked tongue. I bet he wouldn’t stop until I was spent, screaming his name for the entire office to hear, too.
“Let’s go!” my sister shouts from the back window, shattering the fantasy he conjured, and thank god for that because what in the actual fuck am I thinking?
“Coming,” I call to her, but it’s then that he lifts the hatch at the back of the car and produces a sleek black gift bag.
I narrow my gaze, instantly suspicious when he pushes a button to lower it. “I’m not falling for any pranks.”
He shakes his head with a soft chuckle. “Just open it.”
The brat in me wants to counter, ‘How about no,’ before setting the whole thing on fire. But sue me, I’m curious.
I remove the tissue paper concealing the shoe box inside, and once I open the lid, I find a pair of glittery high-top sneakers nestled inside.
A small smile tips my lips as the hand-pressed Swarovski crystals sparkle in the taillights. “Logan, they’re beautiful.”
“I want you to wear them tonight.” As if remembering Carrie’s warning, he amends, “If you want to, that is.”
I stare at the thoughtful gift, confused and entangled in a constant struggle between these two versions of him. Kind and blunt. Hot and cold. Smiling one moment and scowling the next.
He says the boy I used to know is gone, but I’d argue he’s trapped behind his father’s expectations and Logan’s own insecurities.
There was a time when he protected me from the world, but how can he possibly protect me now when Silas has such a tight leash on him?
“I appreciate the gesture, but I-I can’t accept this.”
His handsome face assumes a frown when I place the shoebox back in the bag and hand it back to him.
As the past has proven, he’ll always choose his father’s approval over me. Which means, right now, I can’t trust him. Giving him even the smallest piece of myself would be a grave mistake, and all the gifts in the world won’t change that.
I make it a single step before he stops me.
“Tell me what you want then, Penelope.” The plea in that low whisper threatens to unravel my resolve. “Whatever it is, it’s yours.”
With my heart slapping against my sternum, I take a step back, then another. “I want something you can’t give me.”