Page 201 of Sin Bin

LOGAN

The son of a bitch stared at Logan for a long suspended moment.

Then he smiled ever so slightly and started walking toward him. “Hello, Logan.”

Logan just stood there, his heart ramming violently against his ribs.

No one would have ever guessed that he and Lucien Brassard were father and son. Lucien was tall and good-looking, but the resemblance ended there. He was a ginger, every strand of thick red hair meticulously trimmed. He had deep green eyes set in a perfectly tanned face. He appeared to be in his late forties and wore a custom-tailored gray suit with elegant Italian loafers.

He stopped about two feet away and slid his hands into the front pockets of his expensive pants, calmly studying Logan. “You don’t look surprised to see me.”

Logan just gave him a hard stare.

Lucien offered a small smile. “I suppose—”

“What the fuck do you want?” Logan growled.

“I was hoping we could talk.” Lucien glanced around the lobby. “In private.”

Logan raked him with a look of utter contempt. “I have absolutely nothing to say to you, motherfucker.”

“Then let me do the talking,” Lucien said evenly.

“Why the hell should I give a damn about anything you have to say?”

“You shouldn’t,” Lucien acknowledged. “But we both know you do.”

“You don’t know shit,” Logan snarled.

“I know more than you think.”

Logan glared at him, his fists balling and releasing at his sides.

Lucien lifted his chin, his eyes filled with steely resolve. “I’m not leaving until we talk. Preferably without an audience.”

Logan glanced across the lobby. The doorman at the front desk was scrolling through his phone, pretending not to eavesdrop on their conversation. He was subbing for the regular doorman who was on vacation. Logan didn’t know this guy, so there was no telling whether or not he could be discreet.

He clenched his jaw, frustration burning in his gut. The last thing he needed was for his family drama to be splashed across the tabloids and gossip blogs. With his team heading into the playoffs, he couldn’t afford any messy distractions off the ice. He’d already been warned to keep his fucked-up personal life in check.

After a long hesitation, he gave his father a curt nod and stalked off toward the bank of elevators. Lucien followed him, watching as he used his keycard to summon the private elevator that was reserved for him and his neighbor on the top floor.

When the elevator arrived, he and Lucien boarded in stone-cold silence and retreated to opposite sides.

Folding his arms across his chest, Logan propped his shoulder against the wall and raked his eyes over his father as if he were a steaming pile of dog shit. Lucien’s grooming was impeccable, right down to the perfect haircut and manicured fingernails buffed to a shine. Everything about him screamed rich, entitled douchebag. Which he was.

Pretending not to notice his son’s scathing perusal, Lucien stared up at the ascending floor numbers as they lit up in slow succession.

When the elevator reached the top floor, Logan got off and led the way across a private lobby to his penthouse. He unlocked the door and stepped into the two-story foyer, his father following behind him.

Logan didn’t offer him a drink or a seat. The bastard didn’t deserve the courtesy of social niceties. He’d be lucky if Logan didn’t toss him out the fucking window.

Lucien walked halfway across the living room and then turned to stare fixedly at Logan, studying his face. “You look just like her. Same black hair and dark eyes.” A faint smile touched his mouth. “Your mother was the most beautiful—”

“Don’t talk to me about her!” Logan roared. “Don’t you fucking dare!”

“I was just—”

Logan took a threatening step toward his father and watched him back up, as if he were retreating from a savage predator. The flicker of fear in his eyes gave Logan no satisfaction.

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