Chapter 17 Elizabeth
ELIZABETH
There were plenty of things I was prepared for tonight.
Logan showing up looking ridiculously good in a tux? That was expected.
Sophie dazzling the cameras in a dress that probably cost more than my yearly salary? That was part of the plan.
But Logan, seeing me and looking like he’d taken a punch to the gut?
I was not prepared for that.
I had been scanning the ballroom of Logan’s charity gala, making sure everything was running smoothly, when I felt it. The weight of Logan’s stare.
I turned and locked eyes with him.
His steps slowed. His expression shifted. He looked stunned, thrown off, lingering a second too long. His gaze dragged over me, slow, deliberate, like he was trying to reconcile something in his head. It was as if he wasn’t expecting to see me like this.
I swallowed.
And then, as if remembering where he was, Logan blinked and turned away, his jaw tightening.
Right. I stepped back, tucking myself into the shadows as Logan and Sophie moved beneath the glittering chandeliers.
I wasn’t even trying to be seen. That wasn’t my job. I was here to manage things from the background, to make sure Logan and Sophie’s entrance was flawless, to keep the press focused on their perfect, high-profile relationship.
But I still had to look presentable.
So I’d chosen a sleek, off-the-shoulder black gown, the kind that was classic enough to blend into the background but still made me feel like I belonged in a room like this. My hair was pinned back, a few loose strands framing my face. Simple. Elegant. Professional.
But Logan hadn’t looked at me like I was blending into the background.
Shaken by his gaze, I stepped out of the way, fading into the shadows of the grand ballroom as Logan and Sophie took their place beneath the glittering chandeliers.
They were the picture of elegance. Logan wore a perfectly tailored black tux, Sophie wore silver satin, her arm linked effortlessly through his. Exactly how it was supposed to look.
But for some reason, I felt like I’d swallowed something too warm. I shook it off, redirecting my focus to the stage where Logan would be performing soon. That was what mattered. Not whatever his look had been.
It wasn’t the first time I’d noticed how ridiculously handsome he was. I didn’t know what was happening between us. I mean, I thought of the very generous painting he bought me, and I felt like a live wire was humming under my skin.
Inside, I was in complete turmoil. Every nerve was firing, my heart kicking in my chest, my pulse way too unsteady for something that wasn’t supposed to be happening at all.
I needed to shake this off.
Then, the emcee took the stage, microphone in hand. “We have a very special performance for you tonight. He’s a multi-platinum artist, a chart-topping legend, and if we’re lucky, maybe he’ll even behave himself for the next three songs. Logan Richards!”
Applause roared through the audience as Logan took his place on the stage. I watched how tall and confident he looked. I crossed my arms, exhaling. How was I going to get through this? It must have been evident to every person in this room that I had a crush on Logan.
And then Logan looked at me.
Like he knew exactly what I was thinking.
Like he knew I was standing here, trying to hold myself together while everything inside me was unraveling.
Finally, he spoke. “First, I just wanna thank everyone for coming out tonight. It means a lot, not just to me, but to the real stars of the show—the dogs.” A wave of laughter moved through the room, and he chuckled.
“If you told me a year ago that I’d be here at a fancy gala raising money for an animal shelter, I probably wouldn’t have believed you. But then I met Buttons.”
Another titter of laughter, softer this time.
His voice dropped a little, taking on that quiet sincerity that had a way of making people lean in.
“I came to New Orleans thinking I’d just be passing through, but…
turns out, this city has a way of getting under your skin.
The people, the energy…” He let out a breath, shaking his head slightly.
“And yeah, maybe someone in particular had a little something to do with that.”
He played his guitar for the first couple of songs. Crowd-pleasers. Familiar hits. The ones that had people swaying, smiling, mouthing along to the lyrics.
I let myself relax, just a fraction.
Then, he took his place at the piano, and everything changed.
“This next one,” he said, voice easy, almost casual, “is something I’ve been working on. It’s about someone who’s become important to me.”
A murmur rippled through the crowd.
Logan smirked. “It’s not finished yet. But sometimes, a song feels right before you even figure out what it’s supposed to be.”
Logan let the moment breathe, fingers drifting lazily over the piano keys before settling into a familiar melody. The one I’d heard him playing in the studio.
Logan’s voice filled the ballroom, low and raw and a little rough around the edges in that way that made you feel every word.
This girl moves like a New Orleans summer,
Warm when she wants to be,
No mercy in the heat she’s bringing.
No chance of a gentle breeze,
Her mind’s a rolling thunder,
Her words cut sharply and cleanly.
You’ll feel the spark before you see,
The fire in between.
She’s got her walls, she’s got her pride,
Won’t let just anyone inside.
But if you’re lucky, if you try,
You might catch the truth she hides.
I stopped breathing. The words were perfect. The song itself would stitch up his reputation. A long song to the love of his life. And he was singing it to Sophie in front of everyone.
But he wasn’t singing it to her at all. Logan’s fingers moved over the keys like it was second nature, but he wasn’t looking at Sophie. His gaze was searching.
And when his eyes landed on me, I felt something slip in my chest, something I wasn’t ready for. Before I could even process what was happening, the song ended, the final notes faded into the ballroom like a secret too big to be kept.
And then, chaos erupted.
Sophie let out a dramatic gasp, pressing a hand to her chest. “Oh. My. GAWD.”
I blinked.
Logan barely had time to brace himself before Sophie, in her floor-length designer gown, launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck.
The crowd erupted into cheers, cameras flashing as she grabbed his face and kissed him.
I forgot how to exist.
It was obvious to me—painfully, undeniably obvious—who that song had been about. And yet, here we were, the entire world believing they had witnessed the most romantic moment of the century.
I forced my expression to stay neutral.
Mick nudged me. “Wow. That was something. You’re really good at your job, Elizabeth.”
I exhaled. “Uh-huh.”
Logan, still slightly stunned, gave Sophie a quick peck on the lips, his gaze flicking back to me for half a second too long.
I clenched my jaw.
Because no matter how ridiculous this entire thing was, no matter how absurd it was to watch Sophie take credit for a song that wasn’t hers…
We all had to pretend.
At least the night had been a success. The event had gone off without a hitch. The press got their photos, the donors were pleased, and most importantly, we raised a substantial amount of money for the shelter. I should have been thrilled.
Instead, I threw myself into finishing the night. Coordinating with the event staff and avoiding Logan at all costs. Because if I looked at him and acknowledged what had happened on that stage, I wasn’t sure I could keep pretending.
The ballroom emptied, guests filtering into their cars, umbrellas popping open as the first drops of rain speckled the pavement.
I changed into jeans and tennis shoes, and I kept moving, checking off every last detail until I was the only one left, other than the event staff.
I double-checked press logistics to ensure everything was officially wrapped up.
Then, I went outside just as thunder cracked overhead and rain hammered down in sheets, drenching the pavement outside the venue.
I muttered a curse, pulling out my phone to call an Uber.
Before I could, a familiar voice cut through the storm. “You need a ride?”
Logan had also changed clothes. Gone was the tux.
Now, he wore a fitted black sweater that clung to his frame, the sleeves pushed up to reveal the strong lines of his forearms. His dark jeans were slightly damp from the rain, and on his feet were boots, the kind that looked expensive but were well-worn.
I hesitated. “Where’s Sophie?”
“Already at the hotel.” He leaned against the frame of the car like he had all the time in the world. “I came back for you.”
I cleared my throat, shaking off whatever weird static had settled between us tonight. “I’ll be fine.”
Logan gave me a look. The kind that said he wasn’t buying a single word I was selling. He pulled open the passenger door.
I should have called an Uber, gone back to my own life, and kept pretending this wasn’t happening.
But instead, I inhaled, ignored the way my pulse kicked up, and slid into the passenger seat.
The rain pounded against the windshield, blurring the streetlights into streaks of gold. Logan let out a low whistle, watching the streetlights flicker across the rain-slicked pavement. “Man… this place is amazing.”
I glanced out the window. The French Quarter was different at night. Not the lively, crowded chaos of the daytime, but something slower. Like the city was finally exhaling after holding its breath all day.
I smiled, just a little. “Yeah. It is.”
He tapped his fingers against the steering wheel. “I get why people fall in love with it.”
I swallowed. So did I.
After a beat, Logan glanced at me. “So, why’d you leave?”
I frowned. “Leave what?”
“New Orleans.”
I could dodge it. Change the subject. Spin some polished, professional answers that made my choices sound measured and strategic.
But I didn’t want to lie to him. I let out a slow breath, watching the city blur past. “Because I had to.”
Logan didn’t push. Didn’t fill the silence with empty words. He let me sit in it. Let me decide whether or not to go on.
I shifted in my seat, not sure why I was telling him any of this at all.
“Jake had the support he needed here. I needed to build something for myself. I thought…” My voice trailed off.
I bit the inside of my cheek. “I thought if I could create a career, make real money, and be successful, I could take care of him from a distance. The jobs I was qualified for paid so much more in New York. Even with the cost of living out there, it just made sense to base my career in Manhattan.”
Logan exhaled, fingers tightening briefly around the wheel. “You feel guilty.”
I let out a dry laugh. “That obvious?”
He smirked. “Only to someone who knows the feeling.”
I turned my head, studying him. And for the first time, I wondered how much of his rebellion wasn’t rebellion at all. How much of it was running? Running from the things he didn’t want to face.
Something shifted in my chest, something I wasn’t ready to name. So I forced a smile, tilted the conversation back to something familiar.
“I know I can be too controlling,” I admitted. “I… I don’t know. I guess I’m scared of losing people.”
The words sat between us, fragile, like they might crack if I inspected them too closely.
Logan was quiet. And then, after a moment, soft, almost too soft for me to hear over the rain, he said, “You don’t have to hold everything so tight, Elizabeth.”
I turned away, staring out the window.
The downpour softened as we turned into the heart of the French Quarter. The streets glistened, lamplights reflecting off the wet pavement, turning everything into a soft, golden haze.
The city felt alive in a different way now. It was quieter and dreamier, like it had caught its breath after the storm.
Logan slowed the car to a stop. He didn’t say anything at first, just stared out the window. Then, he exhaled and looked at me. It felt like the world went still.
“It’s a beautiful night.” His voice was lighter, like he was letting go of whatever had been weighing on him a few minutes ago. “You wanna take a walk?”
I should have said no. I should have kept pretending.
But I couldn’t. Not anymore.
I turned to him, pulse steady but too loud in my ears. “I’d like that.”
I stepped out into the night, and as we started walking, one thought settled in my chest with a quiet certainty.
I’d go anywhere with him.
And I couldn’t deny anymore how much I liked him.