Page 294 of Sin Bin

He chuckled. “Perfectly understandable.”

She swilled down the last of her wine, frowning when Logan smoothly plucked the empty glass out of her hand and set it down. She hadn’t even realized that he’d been paying attention to her, much less monitoring her alcohol consumption.

So she was stunned when he leaned close to murmur in her ear, “I think you’ve had enough champagne for one night. Why don’t you call it quits before you make yourself sick again?”

Her cheeks burned with humiliation. How dare he throw that awful episode back in her face?

She could tell he regretted it the moment he said it. But it was too late. The damage had been done.

“Babe, I’m—”

“Fuck you,” she hissed sharply under her breath before turning away from him.

Across the table, Chantal was watching them, her eyes glimmering with amusement. She was clearly enjoying Meadow’s misery.

Refusing to give her any more ammunition, Meadow cheerfully resumed her conversation with Callum. As they talked and laughed, she could see Logan stealing dark glances at them. She ignored him.

Toward the end of dinner, Callum excused himself and got up to whisper something in Lucien’s ear.

Lucien nodded and wiped the corner of his mouth with his monogrammed napkin. After exchanging a tense look with his wife, he rose from the table and followed Callum to the front of the room.

Logan watched them closely, his eyes narrowed with suspicion. Meadow felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach. Something was up.

Callum spoke into a microphone. “May I please have everyone’s attention?”

The orchestra stopped playing and the din of voices quieted, all eyes turning toward the front of the room.

“Thank you for your indulgence.” Callum smiled graciously. “Mr. Brassard would like to make a few remarks before we open the floor for dancing.”

Callum handed the microphone to his boss, who stepped forward and looked out over the crowd with a benevolent smile. “My esteemed friends and colleagues, thank you all for coming this evening. I hope everyone enjoyed the excellent cuisine prepared by my executive chef, the world-renowned Basile Pelletier.”

The room broke into appreciative applause.

“Magnifique.” Lucien beamed with satisfaction. “By now you’ve all noticed that we have a very special guest in our midst this evening.”

As every head swiveled toward Logan, another round of applause and cheers swept the room.

Lucien grinned like a proud papa. “As you all know, Logan plays for the Denver Rebels. But we won’t hold that against him tonight.”

Laughter erupted from the crowd.

Logan was stony-faced, which made it seem like he was in on the joke. Meadow knew he was anything but amused.

“Like many of you,” Lucien continued warmly, “I’ve been a big fan of Logan’s since his junior hockey days with the former Mississauga St. Michael’s Majors. His jaw-dropping talent electrified fans and had many of us dreaming of seeing him in a Maple Leafs sweater. Sadly, that didn’t happen—” Lucien paused as a smattering of boos and grumbles spread through the room. “I know, I know. It was highly disappointing. Cabe Landrieu is a fellow Canadian and an old friend of mine, and I still haven’t forgiven him for stealing Logan from us.”

This drew more hearty laughter before Lucien continued. “At any rate, I’ve never stopped rooting for Logan and wishing him all the success in the world. That said, if the Rebels and Leafs end up meeting in the Stanley Cup Final, well…”

There was another eruption of laughter. A few good-natured taunts were thrown at Logan, who smirked and raised his glass in a mock toast, drawing more laughter and ribbing.

Lucien waited for the noise to die down before he spoke again, all traces of humor gone. “Twenty-five years ago, I was earning my master’s degree at the University of Toronto when I met an extraordinarily beautiful young woman named Marisol. She was a freshman studying art history. She loved visiting museums and poring over artifacts, and she could spend hours discussing the symbolism in Frida Kahlo’s work. She was the most captivating woman I’d ever met, and I was crazy about her. But she didn’t have the right background or pedigree. She was the daughter of a Las Vegas mechanic and an Argentinian hotel clerk. To further complicate matters, I was already engaged to my first wife.”

Lucien shook his head, looking pained as he confessed, “I was young, immature and selfish, and truthfully I didn’t want to risk losing my inheritance. So I told Marisol we could never be together, and I walked out of her life. Not long afterward, I found out she was carrying my child.” He paused, looking slowly around the room. “That child was Logan Brassard.”

A stunned silence fell over the room.

Meadow put her hand on Logan’s shoulder. His muscles were so rigid it was like patting cement covered in expensive Italian wool. He was gripping the stem of his glass so hard she expected it to snap any moment. Thankfully the glass was empty.

As astonished whispers swept through the crowd, Lucien’s gaze settled directly on Logan. “I’m not proud of the way I treated you and your mother. In fact, I’m downright ashamed of my abominable behavior. The repercussions of my actions—”

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