Page 104 of Tortured Eyes
I smile and head for that coffee.
* * *
The apartment is dark when I finally arrive home. It’s still a shock that this is now my home, but it didn’t take long before l felt completely comfortable here. It’s much more extravagant than I would have liked, but apparently, we both had to compromise for this move, and size and luxury weren’t things Logan was willing to give up.
“Logan?” I call, hoping he’s home. The lights slowly turn on, illuminating as I walk into the spacious lounge area. An upgrade from my voice control system, but Logan has certain expectations when it comes to tech. State of the art. Just one of the many things I’ve learned about him this year, including how anal he is about being tidy.
I hang my jacket on the back of the chair as I cast a glance around the immaculate surfaces. I guess it’s not all bad. It’s just a bit bigger than my old place. If you consider a sunken lounge area with a sectional big enough to seat the full family, an island fire hearth, and a fully kitted out professional kitchen just a bit bigger.
I make my way through the sleek space and into our room, but there's still no sign of Logan. It brings panic into my thoughts because there are only a few hours left before we’re due at the charity fight.
Logan thought the idea was fitting in the beginning. A way to carry on the legacy of Vico’s name in a positive way—at least that’s what he led me to believe. But as the weeks have got closer, he's become more agitated and distant, and I’ve been doubting the idea every day this last week.
My phone has no missed calls or messages, and I try ringing him, but there’s no answer. Logan’s plane is due to land in an hour with Quinn, Emily, Gabby, Carter and Fia on board. We’re supposed to be meeting them at the venue, but being here now, with this panic rising in me, I'm starting to wonder if Logan's even going to turn up.
The thought saddens me, but I know him well enough now.He's worried. Tense. Even after clearing the air, there’s still been tension between father and son that I doubt will ever be resolved. Mix his concern in with the fact that this will be the first time I’ve met Gabby, and I can see this night turning into a shit show of epic proportions. No matter what I tell myself, or how I keep reminding myself that it wasn't me, I can’t help but feel guilty when I think of her.
“Logan, it’s me. Call me.” I leave the message and head back into the bedroom to get ready.
The six jet heads pummel me with heat, soaking and soothing my muscles. The shower is close to the best thing in the apartment, short of Logan himself, and after filling the room full of steam, I exit and walk into the closet to find something to wear. I pull out a pair of high waisted black pants and start looking for a fancy top in my collection of t-shirts. Limiting, but not impossible.
“Put them down. You’re wearing my choice. That was the deal.”
I turn to see Logan propped up against the doorjamb, dark shadows under his eyes.
“Well, you weren’t here, so I assumed you’d forgotten that little detail.”
“Not a fucking chance.” He pulls me back into the bedroom where a fire-engine red dress lies draped over the bed.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“No. This is the only way I’m getting through this night. You in a sexy-ass dress and heels. Get dressed.”
I roll my eyes and bury the objection that’s threatening to burst from my chest. If he wants a little distraction to help him through tonight, I can do that.
Twenty minutes later, I’m cocooned in red satin and seriously considering whether I’ll be able to sit down in this thing, it’s so tight.
“Logan, aren’t dresses meant to make you feel good? This one is not working,” I spit, shuffling out to show him.
His face cracks into a sexy smile, almost good enough to make this worth it, and then I notice the tux he's in. Holy shit. “But you look fucking hot, so stop moaning.”
He stalks forward, pure black suit, shiny shoes, bow tie in place as if this dress code is perfectly normal for him. It's not, but damn, it should be. And then he pulls me against his lips without any thought for the lipstick I've just put on. Still, I oblige, devouring his mouth with mine for as long as necessary.
“I always knew you’d look spectacular in red," he says, breaking away from me. "Now. Shoes.” He dangles a strappy pair of heels from his hand, and my torture for tonight is complete.
* * *
The event is a sell-out. Throw in two high-profile names such as Vico and Cane and people have been clamouring for tickets. We've got a private VIP lounge, and Logan leads me through the crush of spectators and guests to relative safety. Normally, I wouldn’t want or need help to navigate through a crowd, but these shoes are impossible to walk in.
We make it to the room, and the family have already arrived. My stomach drops, and for a moment, Logan pauses before pushing through the glass door. The room stills as we enter, everyone waiting for someone to make the first move.
The seconds pass, and I can’t stand it. “Quinn.” I move towards where he’s standing with Emily, hoping he’ll meet me halfway in this. He greets me with a kiss on the cheek and a nod before Emily practically squeezes all the air from my lungs.
“So nice to see you again, Bryce. And wow, don’t you look stunning.”
“Thank you,” I offer, trying to relax in the surroundings.
I turn back and watch Logan approach his dad.
