Page 78 of His Good Girl
“No, I think the cleaner heard you on the phone last night,” Logan mutters.
“What?” I ask, confused. I don’t really remember too much about what happened after I saw Logan kill John. It’s a bit of a blur.
“When I was on the phone, you spoke, and I think he heard you. So he knows someone else was there. You need to stay here for your safety.”
“What about Quentin?”
He blows out a breath and says, “There’s a lot still going on. Viktor and Francesca offered me a higher position last night. Higher than Quen. It means I can deal with him however I see fit. But now that you think he’s your dad, well, that kind of puts a wrench in the works. I can’t just kill him now.”
“Why not?”
My serious question gets laughed at.
“I’m not going to kill your father.”
“Even if I don’t care?”
“Especially if you don’t care. Because maybe you will care in a year, or when we get married, or there’s some other milestone, and you want to share it with him.”
“Blergh. You think we’ll get married?”
He chuckles. “Absolutely, baby girl.”
Grinning, I feel sort of detached from the rest of the stuff. Like it’s real, and some part of mecares,but the part that lights up when Logan smiles at me with that sexy curve of his lips, yeah, that part doesn’t give a flying fuck about anything except him. I’d already come to the conclusion that I would say and do anything to be with him. He’s the hero of my story. The older man who has swooped in and taken responsibility for me in a way that my soul was crying out for. I didn’t realize how low I was until he picked me up and cradled me in his arms.
But a sad smile creeps over my face, knowing I have to tell him the whole truth and hope he doesn’t back out.
“I don’t want kids.”
Biting my bottom lip as I wait for him to take that in and process it, I wring my hands in nervousness.
“No?”
I shake my head. “Sorry, I’m just...I don’t think it’s ever been part of my plans. I’m not stable enough, I may never be. I’m sorry.”
Logan grabs my hands and kisses them, holding them tightly between his own. “Look at me.”
Forcing my gaze to meet his, I let out a soft sob at the love and warmth in his eyes. “It was never part of my plans, either, baby girl. I’m too jaded, too selfish. My conscience is murky gray at best, and I’ve seen how vile this world can be. You and me together is all I need to be happy, Serena. Don’t ever feel bad over the things you want. No one has a right to tell you what you can and can’t do or feel. No one. Do you hear me? You decide.”
Overwhelming emotions bubble up and pour out in the form of relieved tears. He is perfect for me. He understands me on a level that no one else ever has. My ex was so dead set on having kids, a house, a dog, and maybe a cat. I can barely look after myself, so how can I even begin to think about bringing children into my shitshow. As much as being with Logan is right for me, I’m not whole. If I ever do become whole, and it’s a goal I want to achieve someday in the far future when it’s possible, it will be something I want to hold onto and celebrate, to find the freedom that I’ve never had from being a child to growing up. But right now, I’m still that lost little girl, seeking a reprieve from the demon who haunts me.
Logan gives me that. I only need him.
My angel.
Reaching out, he gently strokes my face and rubs his thumb over my lip. “Let me show you something.”
He helps me to my feet while curiosity gets the better of me. “What is it?”
Leading me to the closet, he opens the door and steps inside, pulling me in with him. “There is a panic room built into the back of the closet.” He shoves his suits aside to show me a small panel.
Blinking rapidly, I peer closer at it. “What’s it for?”
Punching in a number, he steps to the side as we hear a click, and he shoves open a door that appeared to be the back wall of the closet.
“Oh,” I exclaim.
“The number is 1125. Can you remember that?”
