17. Serena
17
SERENA
L ogan's office feels like a sanctuary from the chaos outside, with its sleek furniture, warm lighting, and the faint hum of city life beyond the windows. I step inside, feeling the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. Logan is seated at his desk, looking every bit the powerful CEO, but his eyes soften when they meet mine. I can’t help but smile despite the stress of the situation.
But it also feels like I’m extremely out of place with everyone in business suits that cost more than my rent.
"Hey," I say, closing the door behind me.
"Hey yourself," he replies, standing to greet me. He walks around his desk, and I’m momentarily distracted by how effortlessly handsome he is, even in the middle of a crisis. "How are you?"
I take a deep breath. "Glad that we’re doing this together, I guess. It’s a lot to process, but I’m ready to fight."
"That’s my girl," he says with a grin that makes my heart flutter.
He pulls me into a brief hug, and I melt into his warmth, feeling more secure than I have in days.
We pull apart just as Emily and Brant enter the office. Emily is chatting animatedly, her hands gesturing wildly as she tells Brant some story that has him chuckling. There’s an easy rapport between them, and it makes me smile. Emily catches sight of us and waves.
"Sorry we’re late! We got caught up in a riveting discussion about the merits of cat videos," she says with a laugh, her eyes sparkling.
Brant shakes his head, still grinning. "You have no idea how passionate she is about this topic."
“I do actually,” I giggle.
Emily shoots me a mock glare before laughing. "I swear, cat videos only take up some of my time. We’re going to fix this, I promise."
"I know," I reply, feeling a surge of gratitude. "I trust you guys."
We all settle into seats around Logan’s desk, and the atmosphere shifts as we dive into business. Logan leans forward, his eyes focused and determined.
"So, here’s what we’re dealing with," he begins, glancing at some notes on his tablet. "Donald Levy is pushing forward with the eviction, and it seems like he’s got backing from some pretty powerful people. They want to turn the entire building into executive studio apartments, which means not just Serena’s store but also the local coffee shop, the bookstore, and a few other small businesses are at risk."
Brant nods, looking serious. "Levy is in deep with these developers. They’re offering him a deal he can’t refuse, and he’s not going to back down unless we give him a reason to."
Emily taps her chin thoughtfully. "We need to hit him where it hurts. Public opinion. If we can get the community on our side, we might be able to apply enough pressure to make Levy rethink this deal."
"Exactly," Logan says, his eyes locking onto mine. "Serena, your store is a staple in the community. People love it. If they knew it was at risk, they’d rally behind you. And if we can get the other businesses involved, it could turn into a full-blown movement."
My, how has this man changed in the span of such little time!
I nod, the wheels in my head already turning. "We could go to the local newspaper—tell them what’s happening. Get the word out that these small businesses are being pushed out for yet another overpriced apartment complex. People hate that."
Emily snaps her fingers. "And we can leverage social media. Start a campaign with hashtags—get people talking. We’ll make it impossible for Levy to ignore us."
Brant leans back in his chair, crossing his arms as he considers our options. "We’ll need to gather as much information as possible. Show the community exactly what they’re losing if these businesses go under. I’m talking about history, personal stories, everything."
Logan nods in agreement, his gaze never leaving mine. "Serena, you’re the heart of this. We need to show people why your store matters, not just as a business but as a part of their lives."
His words touch something deep inside me, and I feel a swell of emotions—gratitude, determination, and something more, something that makes my heart beat a little faster. "I can do that," I say firmly. "I’ll talk to the other business owners, get their stories. We can make this work."
There’s a brief pause as we all exchange looks, a sense of camaraderie and purpose settling over us. For the first time in days, I feel like we’re not just reacting to what’s happening. We’re taking control.
Emily pulls out her phone and starts typing furiously. "I’ll start drafting some ideas for the social media campaign. We’ll need to create content that’s shareable, maybe some short videos or infographics that highlight what’s at stake."
Brant glances at Logan. "I can reach out to some contacts in the press and see if we can get an article or two published. Something that’ll get people talking."
Logan nods, his expression thoughtful. "And I’ll work on Levy. There has to be something we can use to get him to back off—or at least to reconsider. If we can’t convince him directly, we’ll make it too costly for him to proceed."
I lean forward, my mind racing with possibilities. "We should also think about hosting an event. Something that brings the community together and highlights the importance of these businesses. Maybe a block party or a fundraiser?"
Emily’s eyes light up. "That’s a great idea! We can use it to drum up support and get people invested in the cause. Plus, it’ll give us a platform to speak out against the eviction."
Logan smiles, looking impressed. "You’re brilliant, you know that?"
I blush, feeling a warmth from his praise. "Just trying to think outside the box."
He reaches across the desk and takes my hand, reassuringly squeezing it. "That’s why we’re going to win this. We’ve got the best team in town right here."
Our eyes meet, and it feels like the rest of the world fades away. I feel like I’m truly seeing Logan for the first time, not just as the CEO or the man I’m falling for, but as someone who cares deeply about the people around him. The complete opposite of the man I first spilled my coffee on.
Brant clears his throat, breaking the spell. "So, how are we dividing the tasks? Who’s doing what?"
Emily grins. "I’ll handle the social media and event planning. Serena, you focus on getting the stories from the other business owners. Brant, you work on the press angle. And Logan, you keep working on Levy and see if you can find any leverage."
We all nod in agreement, and the conversation shifts to the finer details of our plan. There’s an infectious energy in the office. As we talk, I notice how Brant and Emily exchange jokes. There’s a spark between them that’s hard to miss, and it makes me smile.
“Do we know who the buyers are?” Emily asks. “Did Levy mention any names?”
“No,” Logan says quickly. “He just kept reiterating that it was someone he couldn’t say no to.”
“I’m researching it to see if I can figure out who. It may be that Logan can reach out to them directly to buy and save the store that way.”
“Perfect,” Emily nods. “I’ll do a little digging too.”
As the meeting winds down, Logan pulls me aside, his voice low and serious. "Serena, I just want you to know that I’m all in on this. Whatever it takes, we’ll make sure your store and all the other businesses stay right where they belong."
We stand there for a moment, his testimony hanging in the air between us. I feel closer to him than ever. The professional crisis has brought us together in ways I never expected, and I can’t help but wonder what the future holds for us.
But for now, I push those thoughts aside. There’s work to be done, and we’re in this together. As we leave the office, our hands brush and I feel a thrill of anticipation. Whatever happens next, I know we’ll face it as a team.
The next few hours are a whirlwind of activity. True to her word, Emily dives headfirst into the social media campaign, creating a series of posts that quickly gain traction. She’s a natural at this, her creativity and passion shine through in every piece of content she creates. Meanwhile, Brant works his contacts in the press, securing a few key articles highlighting the importance of the businesses at risk.
Later that afternoon, I’m sitting in the store, going over the notes I’ve collected when Logan walks in, looking a little worse for wear but still managing to give me a warm smile.
"Rough day?" I ask, tilting my head in concern.
He chuckles, dropping into the chair across from me. "You could say that. Levy is playing hardball, but I think we’re starting to get to him. He’s been more cautious lately, which means we’re making progress."
"That’s good, right?" I ask.
"We’ll see, I guess. Do you want to grab dinner?”
“Sure,” I shrug. “I’m just finishing up here.”
I quickly close out the register as Logan starts cleaning up. I giggle to myself, knowing that my scatterbrained ways drive him nuts, but instead of complaining, he tries to help.
There’s a car waiting for us outside, and before long, we’re pulling up to a large brick building. The restaurant is one of those places you see in movies, the kind where everything gleams, and the waitstaff moves like shadows.
Crystal chandeliers cast a warm, golden light over the room, and the low murmur of conversation mixes with the sound of silverware against porcelain. I take it all in, feeling a bit like I’ve wandered into the wrong world.
I glance down at my flowy sundress, a light pink number with tiny flowers that flutter as I walk. It’s cute, and I love it, but here, amidst the designer suits and sleek dresses, I feel like a splash of color in a monochrome scene. The pink streaks in my hair don’t help. They stand out like a beacon, drawing more than a few curious glances.
"Hey, you okay?" Logan’s voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
He’s standing beside me, looking ridiculously handsome in a dark suit that fits him perfectly. His blue eyes are bright, a contrast to the understated elegance around us.
"Yeah, just a little… out of my element, I guess," I admit, forcing a smile.
He steps closer, his hand finding the small of my back. The touch is light, but it sends a shiver through me. "Don’t be. You look amazing. Besides, who cares what anyone else thinks? I brought you here because I wanted to, not to fit some mold."
"You sure? Because I feel like I should’ve borrowed a ball gown or something."
He chuckles. "Trust me, you’re perfect just the way you are. Plus, I like the fact that you don’t look like everyone else here. Makes you stand out in the best way."
I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. "Flattery will get you everywhere, you know."
"Good. That’s the plan," he says with a wink, guiding me toward our table.
As we walk, I catch sight of us in one of the tall mirrors lining the walls. Logan is all sharp angles and tailored lines, and I’m this swirl of color and softness beside him. Somehow, it works.
We’re led to a table near the back, away from the main crowd but still within view of the whole room. I take a seat, trying not to fidget as I smooth out my dress. Logan sits across from me, his eyes never leaving mine.
"So, what do you think?" he asks, his voice low and intimate, as if we’re the only two people here.
"It’s beautiful," I say honestly. "A little intimidating, but beautiful."
"Want me to start throwing bread rolls at people? That should break the tension."
I laugh. "Please don’t. I’d rather not get kicked out before we even order."
"Alright, you win this round. But the offer stands if you change your mind."
"Good to know," I reply, still smiling as I pick up the menu. The dishes are all in French, and though I took a couple of years in high school, I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten most of it.
Logan seems to notice my hesitation. "Need any help? Or should we just pick the most expensive thing and pretend we know what it is?"
I raise an eyebrow. "Do you really not know what any of this says?"
He shrugs, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I know enough to get by. But where’s the fun in that?"
"Logan, I swear…"
"Okay, okay," he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Let’s see… I’d recommend the coq au vin . It’s a classic, and I think you’d like it."
I narrow my eyes at him. "You’re not just saying that to get me to try something weird, are you?"
"I would never," he says with mock offense. "Well, not tonight, anyway."
I can’t help but laugh again. "Alright, coq au vin it is. I trust you."
Logan’s eyes soften, and he reaches across the table, his hand brushing against mine. "Thanks."
It’s a simple word, but it carries weight. I look at him—really look at him—and there’s something in his gaze that makes my heart skip a beat. The air between us seems to thicken, the noise of the restaurant fading into the background. For a moment, it’s just the two of us, connected by more than just a touch.
A sudden flash breaks the spell, and I blink, disoriented. I glance around, but no one seems to be paying us any attention. Still, the moment is gone, leaving a strange sense of unease in its wake.
Logan frowns, his hand pulling back. "Did you see that?"
"Yeah," I say slowly, still scanning the room. "It was probably nothing. Maybe someone taking a picture of their food or something."
"Maybe," Logan says, but he doesn’t sound convinced. He glances around one more time before shaking his head. "Sorry about that. Where were we?"
"You were about to tell me all your deep, dark secrets."
"You first."
"Fair enough," I say, leaning in. "But only if you promise not to use them against me."
"Scout’s honor," he replies, holding up two fingers in a mock salute.
"Okay, well, I once stole a pack of gum from a convenience store when I was ten," I say, lowering my voice as if it’s the biggest confession in the world.
Logan gasps, playing along. "You rebel. How did you ever live with yourself?"
"It was tough," I say with a solemn nod. "But I returned it the next day, so I think that redeems me."
"I suppose I can forgive you, then," he says. "But only because you’ve clearly learned your lesson."
"Oh, absolutely. No more life of crime for me."
"Good to know," he replies, his gaze lingering on me.
The conversation flows easily after that, filled with playful banter and teasing. The tension from earlier fades, replaced by a growing warmth between us.
Logan is good at making me feel comfortable and making me laugh. He doesn’t let the formal atmosphere of the restaurant dictate how we behave, and I appreciate that more than he knows.
But the interruptions start soon after our food arrives. It begins with a man in an expensive suit who stops by our table to greet Logan. Then, a woman with perfectly coiffed hair comes over, followed by another man who seems to know Logan from some business deal.
Each time, Logan is polite, engaging in brief conversations before turning his attention back to me, but it’s clear that he’s well-known here, and that only adds to my feeling of being out of place.
When the fourth person interrupts us, I do my best not to feel annoyed. Logan must sense it because he reaches over and squeezes my hand.
"I’m sorry," he says softly, his eyes filled with regret. "I didn’t realize it would be like this."
"It’s okay," I lie, not wanting to make him feel bad.
"No, it’s not," he says, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. "I wanted tonight to be about us, not… this."
I look at him, at the sincerity in his gaze, and I know he means it. "Logan, it’s really fine. I’m just not used to it, that’s all."
He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can, another voice cuts through the air.
"Well, well, look who it is."
I freeze, recognizing the voice even before I see who it belongs to. Logan’s brother, Chaz, saunters over to our table, a smirk on his face.
He’s not alone. A woman clings to his arm, dressed in a barely-there outfit that leaves little to the imagination. Her eyes flicker over me, and I can tell she’s already sizing me up.
"Chaz," Logan says, his voice tight. "What are you doing here?"
"Same as you, I imagine," Chaz replies, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Dinner with company."
His eyes slide to me, and I see the disdain there, barely concealed. "Serena, wasn’t it? You clean up… well, sort of."
I feel my cheeks flush, but I force myself to stay calm. "Nice to see you again, Chaz."
He doesn’t respond, his attention already back on Logan. "You know, I’ve been wondering something, Logan. When will you stop your little rebellion and start listening to your family?"
Logan’s jaw tightens, and I can see the anger simmering beneath the surface. "Chaz, this isn’t the time or place."
"Oh, I think it is. Unless you’ve finally realized what a mistake you’re making."
"Chaz, enough," Logan snaps, his voice low and dangerous.
"Come on, Logan. You know this is ridiculous. You can’t seriously think she belongs here, with you. Look at her."
I grit my teeth, trying to ignore the sting of his words, but it’s hard. He’s doing everything he can to make me feel small, and it’s working.
Logan stands, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. "Chaz, I said enough."
The restaurant falls silent, all eyes turning toward us. I can feel the crowd's stares and the judgment in their gazes. I want to disappear, to melt into the floor, and be anywhere but here.
The woman on Chaz’s arm giggles, a high-pitched, grating sound that makes me cringe. "Oh, Logan, don’t be so serious. We’re just having a little fun."
"Is that what this is to you?"
Chaz shrugs, completely unfazed. "Lighten up, little brother. You’re taking this way too personally."
"That’s because it is personal," Logan says, his hands clenched into fists.
"If you say so. But don’t say I didn’t warn you when this all blows up in your face."
Logan doesn’t respond, his eyes locked on Chaz’s. The tension between them is palpable, like a coiled spring ready to snap.
Finally, Chaz sighs, as if this is all too tedious for him. "Well, I’ll leave you to your… dinner. But don’t forget what I said, Logan. It’s only a matter of time."
With that, he turns and walks away, the woman trailing behind him, throwing me one last condescending look before they disappear into the crowd.
Logan remains standing, his breathing heavy, his fists still clenched. I reach out, touching his arm gently. "Logan…"
He turns to me, his eyes softening at my concern. "I’m sorry you had to see that."
"It’s not your fault," I say, though my heart still races from the encounter.
"Yes, it is," he says, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I should have known he’d pull something like this."
I stand, moving closer to him, and place my hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at me. "Logan, none of this changes anything. I’m here because I want to be, not because of what your family thinks."
His gaze locks on mine. "Serena…"
He leans in, his lips brushing against mine in a soft, almost hesitant kiss. It’s gentle at first, a question rather than a statement, but when I respond, wrapping my arms around his neck, the kiss deepens.
The world around us fades away, leaving just the two of us in this moment, connected by more than just physical attraction. It’s a kiss filled with everything we haven’t said and all the feelings we’ve kept hidden.
When we finally pull apart, we’re both breathing heavily, our foreheads resting against each other’s.
"I don’t care what they say," Logan murmurs huskily. "I want this. I want you."
I smile, my heart swelling. "Good. Because you’re stuck with me now."
He laughs softly, the tension easing from his body as he pulls me closer. "I wouldn’t have it any other way."
We stand there for a moment, wrapped in each other’s arms before the noise of the restaurant slowly filters back in. Logan sighs, glancing around before looking back at me.
"Do you want to get out of here?" he asks.
I nod, more than ready to leave this place behind. "Yeah, let’s go."
He grabs my hand, leading me through the restaurant and out into the cool night air. The tension from earlier fades, and we just lean into each other—soaking each other up.
We may have a lot to face, but for now, we have each other, and that’s enough.