Chapter 7
Ava
It’s been a week since my date with Logan, and each day he seems to get more aggressive in his attempts to contact me. First, it was one call a day, and then two.
Next, he was sending texts asking if I’m free, and then leaving voice messages when I failed to respond. I’ve continued to ignore his calls and stall him via text. I need more time to consider his proposal, despite Petra’s insistence that I take him for every penny.
Yesterday, he even had a courier service deliver a handwritten note, asking if I could make time to speak with him today, but after several minutes of mock conversations in the mirror, I just couldn’t do it.
Petra has assured me he’s an arrogant asshole, so I imagine he should begin to cool down soon. A week has to be too long of a chase for someone of his caliber. He should be annoyed and over me, or at least that’s what I hope.
Walking into the office, preparing myself for a long day, I’m met with a death stare from Petra, her arms crossed as she stands next to Melanie, our receptionist, who wears a helpless look when my eyes land on hers.
“What’s wrong?” I ask concerned, as Melanie silently apologizes.
Petra steps aside to reveal the largest, and most beautiful, bouquet of white roses I’ve ever seen. They’re long stem, in a tall glass vase, and without counting, I’m sure there have to at least be fifty of them.
Ignoring Petra’s feelings, I focus on the flowers, leaning in to smell the amazing aroma.
“Here,” Petra sneers, shoving a small white card to me.
I don’t tire easily, Ava. Call me. – Logan.
I can’t hide the smile that spreads across my face, as Petra rolls her eyes and walks into her office, calling behind her, “Close the deal today.”
“I’m sorry, Ava. I was going to put them in your office before she got here, but Petra came in earlier than I expected,” Melanie begins, rushing her words in an effort to explain.
“It’s not your fault,” I say with a smile, winking to let her know I don’t care about Petra’s attitude, before carefully carrying the beautiful roses into my office, setting the heavy vase on my desk.
“They are beautiful,” she sighs from my doorway.
“Yes, they are,” I smile to myself.
“So, today’s load just got much lighter. Your last appointment of the day canceled, freeing up two hours, but other than that you’re completely booked.” Melanie runs off my schedule as she does every morning.
“Okay, that’s fine. Please let me know when my first appointment arrives. I need to make a call,” I wait her to leave, watching her fail at hiding her blush, knowing I’ll be calling the sender of such a beautiful floral arrangement.
It takes ten minutes before I can muster the courage to call Logan. Deciding it unprofessional to call his cell phone, I opt for his office line.
“Good morning. You’ve reached Mr. Draper’s desk. This is Jennifer speaking, how may I help you?” His assistant answers, way too perky for eight o’clock in the morning.
“Hi. I was hoping to speak with Mr. Draper,” I request before taking a deep breath.
“I’m sorry. Unfortunately, Mr. Draper is in a meeting. May I take a message?” she says in a most robotic tone. A sense of relief rushes over me, grateful to delay the conversation.
“Yes, please let him know that Ava – uh, Ms. Batcher – returned his call,” I correct myself, hoping to sound as professional as possible when he reads the message.
“Ava? Ava Batcher?” She asks in a shocked whisper.
“Umm… yeah,” I answer confused. Surely, she’s never heard of me.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Batcher. I didn’t recognize this number. May you please hold? Mr. Draper has been waiting for your call.”
I can hear the anxiety in her voice, and don’t want to be the reason she gets in trouble. Petra said Logan is known to be a ruthless boss.
“Ava?!”
My stomach curls instantly at the sound of his velvety soft voice.
“Logan – I mean, Mr. Draper,” I say, determined to be in charge of my emotions.
“I told you not to call me that,” he says in his normal deep and seductive tone.
“Well, what would you prefer?” I bait him, walking around my office in anticipation of his response.
“What’s so wrong with Logan?” he asks, and I can tell he’s smirking.
“Do most of your colleagues call you Logan?”
“You’re not most,” he shoots back quickly.
“So, you’re already making exceptions for me, and I haven’t even taken you on?” I tease.
“I was hoping we could fix that by the end of this call.”
“Oh? I was just calling to thank you for the flowers. They’re beautiful,” I say, testing the waters.
“How many days do I need to send them until you will take me on as a client? Or should I just send them on the hour?”
“Is that how you woo your real estate investors?” I question sarcastically.
“Oh, come on, Ava. You’ve done your research, you’re taking me on. Why torture me?”
“If this is torture for you I don’t know that you’ll make it through a session with me,” I immediately recognize the sexual undertone in the sentence, but by then it’s too late.
“Well, give me a chance. If I don’t live up to your expectations, you can always cut me loose,” he matches the subtlety so well I can’t be sure he’s picked up on my undertone at all.
Pausing, I try to think of the possible scenarios for getting out of this, but at this point, I don’t think there is a way to back out. Petra has been requesting updates since I told her about Logan, and I know she won’t be satisfied unless I at least give this a real chance.
“Please, Ava. I need you.” His voice is desperate and vulnerable, a tone I’ve never heard from him. My thighs squeeze together as I acknowledge his less-than-subtle undertones.
“We can give this a try, Logan, but I can’t make any guarantees. You have to be serious about this, or it won’t work.”
“I will. Trust me. What time can you come over?”
“Come over? What?”
“Come on, Ava. I can’t be seen going into your office. I’ll pay the premium, but I need you here. Bill me whatever,” he proposes, and I think of Petra’s description of him.
“I’ll check for availabilities for this week,” I respond after a brief pause.
“I need you today,” his tone is now authoritative and demanding. He’s in his professional mode, closing the deal.
“Today?” I say more to myself than him.
“Yes. If you have to come after your business hours, I can do that. You can bill me extra for that as well.”
“I have a cancellation at three. Does that–”
“Three o’clock is great. See you then.”
Just then the light on my desk begins to blink, alerting me to my first client’s arrival.
“Three o’clock it is,” I confirm.
For the next seven hours, my focus is on my clock and nothing else. There’s no way I can help my clients with Logan dominating my thoughts, but I try my best, taking notes as regularly as possible as I listen to their updates and plans for improvement.
Before long, it’s finally time to go to Logan’s office, which is much nicer than I expected. From my quick research, I knew he was from a wealthy family, and had gone on to dabble in real estate investments, creating an impressive portfolio almost by accident.
Situated on the eleventh floor of a gold building on Wilshire Boulevard, Draper Holdings, Inc. is quite impressive. Jennifer, Logan’s nervous assistant, runs off a long list of drinks so fast I can barely make out any of the options.
“I’ll have a water,” I smile, assuming that was one of the choices.
Before I’ve even noticed her absence, she walks into the waiting room holding a bottle of Fiji water.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Ms. Batcher. Mr. Draper will see you now,” she says, waiting for me to follow.
“Please call me Ava,” I smile and thank her as she holds Logan’s office door open.
From the waiting area, you can’t see inside his office. In fact, it looks like an opaque glass so dark you can even make out your reflection, but from the inside he can see everything.
Meeting us at the door, he nods to Jennifer, who blushes before rushing out of the office, seemingly grateful to escape her boss. Maybe Petra was right.
“Ava,” he smiles, hugging me briefly, allowing his lips to slide over my cheek as he has done in the past.
“Hello, Logan,” I fight to remain in control as his scent encompasses me.
“Did Jenn offer you a drink?”
“Premium water,” I hold the clear bottle up, and he flashes that smile that releases butterflies in my stomach.
“Have a seat,” he motions to a brown leather loveseat, settling in the matching chair across from me.
“You have a very nice office.”
“How have you been?” he asks, leaning forward in his seat, catching me off guard with his line of questioning.
“I’m fine, and yourself?” I try to keep our conversation casual.
“Why have you been ignoring me?”
“I haven’t, Logan. I’m busy and I told you I’d get back to you,” I lie, avoiding eye contact by looking out the wall of windows that surround his office.
“Ava,” he calls my name demanding my attention, so I turn as if I wasn’t avoiding him.
“Logan,” I tease him and he grins.
“I’m happy to see you,” he says softly, looking directly into my eyes.
“I’m happy to get started on this session. So, the way I typically begin my coaching is to get to know each other. The first session is about boundaries and trust, and the goal is to have both established by the time I leave today,” I go into my serious mode, as my professionalism kicks in, putting me in my comfort zone of work.
“That sounds simple enough.”
“Logan, why am I here?” I ask, and he blanches a bit, so I quickly rephrase the question, knowing this can be intimidating for clients. “What do you hope to gain or improve through our sessions?” I reiterate, and he looks more comfortable with that version.
“I want balance – between my work and social life, which at the time is a bit nonexistent, but I’m hoping you can help me remedy that.”
I jot down some notes before responding. “Sure. I’ve experienced plenty of circumstances like this before. I’m sure we can work together to create a plan for you to find a bit of ‘work-life balance’,” I assure him, jotting down another note.