Page 2 of His Good Girl
Filled with trepidation and even a tinge of fear, I open the box and choke back the noise that escapes my throat. Pressing my lips together, leaning heavily on the counter, and bowing my head, I take a steadying breath and slam the lid closed. Picking it up, I make my way quickly up the stairs to the left side of the apartment to the second floor, which consists of my bedroom and bathroom. Sliding open the closet door, I carefully place the box on the top shelf and shut it again, feeling the buzz from my phone in my pocket. I take it out and answer immediately.
“Quentin.”
“Logan. Did you receive the package?”
“Yes.”
“Was it to your satisfaction?”
“It was. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Logan.” He hangs up, but I know that’s not the end of it. The favor owed will come. It might be later tonight, or it might be in a year’s time, but it will come.
Chucking my phone onto the bed, I strip off and head for the shower to wash away the day at the office and the night with Shelley. I wet my dark hair and run my fingers through it before I step out and dry off with a pure white towel from the rail. I barely notice my surroundings, needing only to slip into bed at this late hour, well past midnight, to grab as many minutes of sleep as I can before I need to rise at 4 AM.
Slipping between the gray silk sheets, I wonder briefly what Quentin will call upon me to do. He is the Head of the Society. He says jump; we say how high—even me.
I close my eyes, surprised to find that sleep drags me under quickly and efficiently into a dreamless slumber.
Chapter2
Logan
Iwake up to the alarm beeping. Groaning, I know it’s time to get up. I don’t often feel the need to lie around all day, but something about last night has left me feeling a bit off-color.
I pick up the phone to shut the alarm off, and immediately a text comes through.
It’s from Quentin.
Get rid of your assistant today.
That’s it. Whatever favor he wants, it has to do with me removing Dolores from my employ. I sigh and rub my hand over my face, climbing out of bed. My semi bounces in front of me, eager for a release, but I ignore it in favor of grabbing a shower and getting ready.
Choosing my clothes carefully, I pick up a navy-blue suit and a white shirt. I go commando as always and choose a tie. Checking my reflection in the mirror, I straighten my hair after my shower and clip diamond-encrusted cufflinks to my shirt.
I hear the door click open downstairs and check my Rolex—time to go.
Slipping my jacket on as I make my way down the stairs, I smile when I see Rose.
“Morning, gorgeous.”
She looks up and giggles. “Mr. Carter. Such a tease.”
“Never, you are a goddess.”
“So smooth. Be gone with you.” She flaps her hands, thrilled with the compliments. She is about fifteen years older than me, in her mid-fifties, but has the Irish complexion of a woman much younger than her years.
She reaches into the hall closet for my black cashmere, three-quarter-length coat and shakes it out. “It’s chilly out there this morning.”
“You know you don’t have to be here at this time,” I point out. “It’s way too early for normal people.”
“No, you’re up at this time; I am as well. Someone needs to remind you to eat.”
“Pass, but I appreciate it.”
She tuts as she helps me on with the coat. She brushes off the shoulders and turns me around, giving me a critical eye. “You’ve lost weight, Logan. I’m going to make you a nice hearty stew tonight, and you will eat it. I’ll leave it in the oven.”
“Promise,” I lie. I’ll probably forget. It’s not that I don’t want to eat; it’s just that I’m usually too busy. Running Carter & Jeffers Attorneys at Law is more than a full-time job, not to mention the Solitaire business that keeps me busy. Quentin is the Head of our Sector, but I’m not that far down the pecking order, which is why Shelley targeted me. I curse my cock that got me into that mess, but being forty and alone, whether it’s by choice or not, isn’t good for my sex drive, which is markedly higher than most.
