Page 32 of Sinful Palace

8

Willow

I remainedflat on my back on the bed, breathing deeply and massaging my throat until the terrible ache wore down to a dull throb. Then I steeled my nerves and picked myself up.

I quietly padded into the bathroom. The shower was still running, and steam had filled the room.

My lips parted as I inhaled deeply, looking over at Logan. He was standing at the back of the shower enclosure, facing the left wall. One hand was pressed against the tiles, and his head was tilted downward. Water dripped over his hair, soaking his face. He didn’t make a single move to wipe any of it away.

I’d never seen him look so morose.

An unbidden pang of sympathy gnawed at my stomach. I abruptly pushed the feeling aside, remembering my earlier thoughts. He’s the enemy. Push out all feelings.

I understood why he hated me, and I felt bad for what I did to his sister, but that didn’t mean I had to feel sorry for him. Not after all the terrible things he’d done to me instead of letting the judicial system deal with me.

Still, I was struck by the sensation that I was intruding on a private moment, so I averted my eyes and quietly lowered myself onto the soft bathmat outside the shower. The position would work in my favor. Logan had always liked seeing me on my knees.

“Fucking Christ, Willow…”

When I heard Logan mutter my name, I glanced upward, assuming he’d finally noticed my presence.

He hadn’t. He was still completely engrossed in the shower, letting it beat over his body in steamy rivulets, and he hadn’t turned his head even a fraction of an inch. He was talking to himself.

About me, evidently.

I lowered my eyes to the floor again, waiting for him to finish.

The water finally switched off, and I peered up through my eyelashes, watching as Logan grabbed a white towel.

“How long have you been in here?” he asked, eyes narrowing in my direction as he wrapped the towel around his hips.

“Not long,” I murmured.

His eyes flashed over my body before returning to my face. “What are you doing down there?”

I remained on my hands and knees, feigning a contrite expression. “I came to say sorry,” I said. “I shouldn’t have tried to manipulate you earlier.”

“Get up,” he said sharply.

I did as he said. He stepped closer and cupped my cheek. “Are you really sorry?”

I swallowed hard and opted for the truth, knowing how easily he saw through my lies. “Not really,” I admitted.

A ghost of a smile crossed his face. “Didn’t think so,” he said. “But at least you’re being honest with me.”

I dropped my eyes to his chest, waiting for him to speak up again before I figured out what to say or do next.

“What was that all about, anyway?” he asked, nodding over my shoulder toward the bedroom beyond the door. “What did you want from me?”

I lifted my shoulders in a slight shrug. “I was just trying to get you to be nicer to me.”

“I have been nice to you lately. I’ve left you alone while all this shit has been happening to your mother, haven’t I?”

I lifted my eyes to meet his cold gaze. “I know, and I appreciate that. But I always feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. Waiting for you to suddenly get mad and blow up at me over something. Anything. It’s like living with a bomb strapped to my chest.”

“So you thought you’d try to manipulate me with sex again.”

I nodded slowly. “Yes.”

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