Chapter 4 - Addison
“It’s all flowers and fun until it’s not.”—Anonymous.
The fan spun slowly above my head, the air conditioning hummed from the wall in the corner, and I pulled the fluffy comforter up to my cheeks and snuggled deeper into the soft sheets. There was a small but wistful smile on my lips as I remembered the expensive rock on my finger. I felt it, stroked it, and tried to imagine my life with him.
With Logan.
My heart warmed. I had heard a saying that it is impossible to know a person completely. I agreed but as far as my fiancé was concerned, five months was a long time to pretend. His kindness of heart was genuine, I had experienced it firsthand.
So kind, so affectionate, so loving ...
The ringing of the bell, which echoed in the hallway, shook me awake and my eyes snapped open. I had fallen asleep and was dreaming of him. Smiling, I leaned over and picked up my cell phone from the bedside table as the screen lit up.
My heart was beating up to my throat.
The doorbell rang again.
On the locked screen of my smiling fiancé was a bold 00:45.
It was after midnight. After midnight! Panic gripped me and my nails dug into the comforter. If I had expected anyone, it would have been Maria. Only Maria. But she would never show up on my doorstep this late. It wasn”t her. Who else would it be?
With the help of the faint moonlight streaming in through the windows, I squinted and scanned the room for anything that could pass for a weapon. Jesus, Addison. After tonight, I”d have plenty of Tasers and pepper sprays in my drawer. I fumbled around and found nothing but a pen on a chair. Well, that’ll have to do.
Ding, dong ...
Cautiously I stepped out of the room, my heart raced, and the blood rushed in my ears. I held the pen close to my chest. The pen was mightier than the sword, wasn”t it? Tonight, it had the chance to prove itself.
When I got to the living room, I turned on the lights. Anxiety clawed at my guts, and it didn’t help that I was alone in the house.
My father was in the hospital, receiving treatment from some of the best doctors in the country. His health had been deteriorating for some months now, and they said he was getting worse and wasn’t coming back home any time soon.
I had the house to myself most of the time and Logan tried to be there as often as possible. He really did. It was just ... Work. At least that”s what he said. He was always busy, even if I didn’t know where he worked or what kind of work he did. I tried to tease it out of him several times, but he always found a way to dodge the question. It”s best to respect the man’s privacy, isn”t it?
So, I stood behind the locked door and was scared to death.
No one said anything from the other side of the door. No “Hello,” “Addison, are you there?” That might have calmed my nerves. But this ... this was worse, like something out of a horror movie. Various thoughts ran through my head: what if it was a burglar or worse ...
The bell rang again, taking the next beat of my heart with it, and I swallowed and was about to reach for the steel knob when the door slowly opened. My heart sank from my throat to my stomach, like a bowling ball dropped into a half-full bucket of water. I almost screamed.
Until his blond hair emerged, followed by his familiar, charming smile, which I had grown to love and dreamed of every night. His tall stature—all of him in his six-foot-two glory—entered the house and closed the door behind him. He wore a crisp white shirt, straight navy-blue pants, and rolled-up sleeves that revealed a glimpse of the light baby hairs on his arms.
“Jesus, Logan!” The mighty pen slipped from my grasp and my arms willingly wrapped around his neck. He scooped me, naughty legs-around-the-waist style, and peppered kisses on my cheeks. The second his scent hit my nose; I relaxed in his arms. “You scared the living daylights out of me. Why did you ring the doorbell? How did you get in here?”
“My beautiful angel, I’m so sorry, I just thought I”d ring to give you a heads up,” he murmured into my neck, stroking my back the way I liked before setting me on my feet. A silver bunch of keys dangled from his finger and the corner of his mouth moved upwards. “Don’t tell me you forgot. You gave me spare keys, remember?”
I had forgotten it. But the memory that I had handed him a bundle of spare keys reassured me. He had proven himself over the months, so it was easy to trust him. He smoothed out a crease on his shirt and covered the space between us.
I liked it. I liked the closeness. Being so close to him; being able to touch him, play with the button of his shirt, or kiss him whenever I wanted. Even now.
On tiptoe, I brought my mouth to his, and he cupped my cheeks. When he parted my lips with a flick of his tongue, I pressed myself against him and enjoyed the warmth he gave me unreservedly. I pulled away with a smile. He tasted like peppermint gum. Not my best flavor, but because it was him, I was willing to accept it.
He stroked my chin, grinning even brighter. “I take it that you’re happy to see me.”
“Very happy.” I fumbled with his buttons and looked up at him. “You don’t know how much. Today was long and tiring, and I went to bed thinking about you.”
He lifted a hand from my hip, revealing a velvet box resting prettily on his palm. When I opened it, I gasped. It was a set of jewelry—glittering round earrings and a necklace with a heart-shaped pendant. I stared at it open-mouthed and then looked back down at the gift in my hand.
“Logan, this ... this is too much. This is—”
“You deserve much more, Addison Mae.” The look in his eyes softened when he said my name. He brushed his thumb under my lower lip and eyed it for a minute. “Nothing in this world is too much or too good or too beautiful for you. If I could, I’d get whatever you desire, and ...”
I hugged him tight just to show him how much he meant to me. Logan was every woman’s dream. Everything he did was too good to be true. I could hardly believe that I had caught a man who enjoyed spoiling me the way he did.
“Thank you so much. I don’t take any of this for granted, okay? Just ... don’t make me cry. You know I’m ugly when I cry.”
Setting me down on my feet, he laughed and kissed my nose. “Never. You’re never ugly. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life.”
“Oh, stop with the flattery.”
“Flattery?” He cornered me between the back of the sofa and his chest. Then he lowered his lips so that I could feel the heat of his breath on my mouth. Something warm and cozy stirred in my belly and a sensational tingle crawled up my neck. “It’s the fucking truth, Addi. You’re so fucking beautiful that any man who saw you like this, right now, would lose his mind.”
I blushed. So much so that I was sure my cheeks resembled a ripe tomato. I didn’t curse; that wasn’t my thing. But every time those words left Logan’s lips, I felt like a matchhead that had been lit.
My hair fell forward, and he brushed the unruly strands behind my ears. “Are you sleepy?”
“No. Why? You’ve got plans?”
“Something like that,” he smirked. His hands found mine and he laced our fingers. “I was thinking we could go to that nearby store, Jacy’s? And grab something for a late-night snack and a movie. Maybe binge-watch episodes of Arcane: League of Legends.”
“Arcane?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m thinking, if we have to binge-watch anything, I’d pick the best—Bridgeton.”
“Whatever you want, Lady Daphne.” He made a mock bow and elicited a laugh from me. It was corny and out of context. But it was Logan, so I loved it.
****
Times like these were priceless to me.
Times when I could sit next to him in the car all night and just watch him, listen to him talk, or admire the lively expression on his face when he said something funny and laughed at his joke. I loved the crinkle his eyes made at the sides when he smiled. Amazingly, it made him look younger than a man who has lived for thirty-four long years.
He was sweet, eloquent, and handsome. The kind of handsome that makes women swoon and forget their names. In the world of the rich, he could pass for anything: a real estate agent, a philanthropist, a politician, a stockbroker. Logan could be anything. Countless possibilities poured out of him like strong, expensive perfume from a broken bottle. With his slightly British accent, he always sounded so sophisticated and somehow sexy. I considered myself lucky to be his girl—his woman.
It was never boring with him. He always made me happy. Always. Now he was telling a story that had happened to him at work about a snobby intern who didn’t realize that he was the boss.
I could already see Jacy”s neon signs in the distance, and we had just got to the part of the story where he revealed his identity to her when, completely out of nowhere, a fleet of Mercedes cars, black as the night, blocked our car. Logan slammed on the brakes and the tires squealed as we came to an abrupt halt. I was thrown around in my seat—catapulted toward the windshield—and was completely confused. What the heck was going on here?
Men rushed out of the cars and pointed guns at our windshield. My heart pounded like a bongo drum in my chest.
A shot rang out and I looked at Logan, who looked paler and angrier than I”d ever seen him before.
“Logan, what—”
“Logan Mercer!” A voice thundered. It was dark, deep, and full of hatred, so strong that I could almost feel it. But it wasn’t the hatred in its tone that made me shiver. It was the rapture that followed and made my head snap so fast I thought I had been struck by lightning. “Get the fuck out of the car!”
Save for a few flickering streetlights, there was slight darkness. He was tall, very tall, broad-shouldered, and like Logan, wore a dress shirt with sleeves rolled up. But I couldn’t make out his face clearly. Whoever he was, his rage promised death.
“Logan, what’s happening?”
“Addi, stay in the car and don’t come out no matter what, you hear me?”
“No.” Eyes wide, in a flash, I unfastened the seatbelt. “Logan, you can’t go out there. These men ... they have guns.”
But he wasn’t listening to me. He took off his seatbelt and stepped outside. When he walked up to the tall man with the commanding voice, I’d never been more scared. They glared at each other, and Logan stood with curled fists.
That rattled me, but I didn’t have long to think about it, because in the blink of an eye, he was struck with the butt of a gun and was on his knees.
“No!” I forced myself out of the car and threw all caution to the wind. Tears stood in my eyes, the wind ruffled my hair, and at that moment, I forgot I was only wearing Logan’s baggy sweatshirt and white booty shorts. I dropped onto my haunches and tried to get him to stand up. “Logan, get up, please! Stay away from him, all of you!”
“Ah ... this must be the girlfriend.”
That voice again. It had me turning away from Logan’s busted lip to the source. And when our eyes finally met, I felt my mouth go dry.
He was closer now. Much closer. I saw the blue in his eyes, piercing and angry; the firmness of his jawline, the fullness of his mouth, and the arch of his thick brow as he scrutinized me. His lush, dark hair was combed back, smooth, without a single strand out of place, and he had one hand in his pocket, the other still holding his gun. He had an undercurrent of violence about him that sent a shiver running down my spine.
Logan was handsome, but this man had a savage aura and a charm that would make a woman forget how to breathe. He exuded calm confidence and control. And menace. His gaze ... it was intimidating. Like a rogue businessman who only exists in novels; like villains who emerge from the shadows.
And when he looked down at me with a devilish smirk, I felt as if the earth was trembling beneath me. Judging by his fine wrinkles, he had to be older than Logan, but he still had a handsome face. Like a harmless young adult, and not like a scary man with a gun.
“And who would you be, pretty lady? I am Mark. Mark Varkov,” he extended the hand from his pocket. Long, slender fingers and sinewy forearm.
Logan wobbled and grunted beside me, and I suddenly remembered where we were. A few feet from Jacy’s, with a beaten-up Logan in my arms. And he—Mark—wanted my Logan dead. I clenched my teeth and tried to look as fierce as possible. But Logan beat me to it.
“Stay the fuck away from her!” Logan growled. “She has nothing to do with any of this. Leave her out of it.”
His outburst made Mark chuckle and he returned his hand to his pocket. “Definitely the girlfriend,” he snarled as his eyes roamed over my body. He turned around and motioned to a much bigger man in a black suit with hawk-like eyes. “Yuri ...”
The rest of the words were lost in the jumble of Russian letters and meanings. The guy made rapid progress and had a white handkerchief in his hand. I didn’t need to understand the language to know that my life was at stake too. Logan tried to fight while I screamed a bloodcurdling “No!”
The brawny man was not deterred. He tore me away from Logan and covered my nose with the handkerchief. I struggled. I kicked. I lashed out. I did everything I could to get away, to wake up from this horrible dream. But his grip was tight and the fight inside me was weakening by the second. My eyes became heavy. Chlorine.
The last thing I saw through blurred eyes and burning tears was the pain in Logan’s face as he watched my body collapse.
I’d once heard in a song that life and love were like flowers and fun until it was not.
Funny, how that played out tonight.