Page 61 of One Night in Paris

Horrified, I ignored them, tucking the magazine under my arm, and taking hold of Mom’s hand with mine. We walked briskly toward the car, the photographers following us.

“Leave her alone!” my mom shouted at them. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

They didn’t relent, though. The photographers followed us up the sidewalk to the parking lot where I’d pulled in just a few minutes ago. If I had known this was going to happen, I would’ve just kept going.

Fishing the keys out of my purse while fumbling with the magazine and the coffee, I managed to get the car unlocked and help Mom inside before I went around the other side, dodging the flashes as I went. These assholes simply wouldn’t give up.

With the doors locked, I started the car and backed out of the parking lot, praying they were all smart enough to get out of the way because I was coming like hellfire. They literally jumped aside, and I took off, leaving them behind me.

But the memories of what they’d been shouting at us, how aggressive they had been, stayed with me. Who the hell had the nerve to do something like that? To accost a woman with cancer on the sidewalk as she’s buying coffee with her daughter? It bothered me that they’d approach me, but the fact that they’d messed with my mother made me furious.

I realized she was crying.

“Mom!” Reaching for her hand, I gave it a squeeze. Traffic was moving faster now than it had been before, but it was still safe for me to give her some attention. “Don’t cry. It’s okay.”

“That was terrifying,” she said, dabbing at her eyes with a napkin I had left over from some fast food. “I can’t believe the nerve of those people.”

“I know, Mom, but it’s okay. It’ll be all right. I’ll speak to Logan and make sure he fixes it this time.”

“How will you do that, darling?” she wanted to know. “The magazine has already published the story. The damage has been done.”

That was a good point, and I didn’t have an answer for it. “I’m sure he’ll think of something.”

“All right, honey. I trust you.” Mom sniffled a few times and then rested her head back on the seat, exhausted.

I should’ve never taken her with me to get a copy of that magazine. It was too dangerous. And now, those bastards had photographs of her. If they wrote one word about my mother, heads would roll.

Tears began to cloud my own vision as I thought of what all of this meant. Logan had said he’d keep me safe, but he’d just let me down. It might not be his fault that Dave had those photos, and I had trusted him when he said we shouldn’t give in to bullies. But now, Mom’s picture might very well be all over the gossip rags.

And that realization tore me apart.

33

LOGAN

Pacing the floor of my apartment, my mind kept wondering what the hell was going on with Harper as I tried to make sense of this entire situation. I couldn’t call her back because I had no idea when her mother’s chemo would be over. I’d sent her a text to ask if she was okay a couple of hours ago, but she’d never replied. Now, I was too nervous to ask again for fear that she hadn’t answered because she wasn’t okay. That, and I didn’t want to harass her to death.

I was just about to call her again anyway when there was a knock on my apartment door. Harper was one of the few people I’d given access to the elevator that went to the penthouse. The doorman wouldn’t let just anyone in, so I was hopeful as I went to answer the door that it was her.

Flinging the barrier open, my initial reaction was to grin from ear to ear just to see her petite figure situated there. But then I saw her tear-streaked cheeks and all of the joy was sucked from my lungs. “Harper? What’s going on?” I asked, gesturing for her to come in.

“What’s going on? Logan, are you shitting me?” She had the magazine in her hand, and by the crumpled state of it, I had tothink she’d been holding on to it for a while. “Do you have any idea what’s just happened to me—and my mom?”

“Your mom?” I repeated as she stepped inside. I closed and locked the door behind her, turning around with a puzzled look on my face. “Is your mom okay?”

“No, she’s not okay!” Harper’s free hand was fisted as she leaned toward me, rage flickering in her brown eyes. “We were just accosted at a coffee shop over this!” Thrusting the magazine at me, she hit me in the chest with it, pushing me back a few steps. “I’ve had some pretty shitty things happen to me in my life, and I suppose I can always handle one more. But photographers leaping out of the shadows at my mother while we’re walking down the sidewalk, screaming offensive questions at me? That’s not okay!”

Stunned, I didn’t know what to say to her. She released the magazine, and I caught it before it hit the floor, but I didn’t want or need to look at it. I’d read it earlier. The article was awful, but we both knew it was all lies. Except for the part where it said she was fucking her boss—that was true. Just not at work. And not every day.

If the look on her face was meant to tell me anything, probably never again.

“I’m not sure what to say, Harper,” I admitted. “I’m so sorry that your mom got sucked into this. I knew it wouldn’t be pretty when it came out, but it isn’t as bad as it could be.”

Her eyes flamed up again. “It isn’t? Just what were you expecting, Logan? Pictures of us from the hotel room, actually fucking? This is pretty damn bad! I thought you were supposed to be protecting me, but you didn’t do that!”

“I am protecting you, Harper. Physically anyway. I couldn’t do anything about this. We talked about it—remember? It was either let the photos release or work with Dave. We both agreedthat working with Dave was out of the question, given what he’d done.”

“You said it couldn’t be that bad! You said that we hadn’t done anything in public that could be that scandalous. Well, these fucking pictures have been manipulated! We didn’t even do half of the things they’re showing. There’s one where you have your tongue down my throat, and you didn’t kiss me at all while we were at the restaurant!”

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