Chapter 2

Katie

This was bad.

This was so damn bad and there wasn’t a thing I could do to get away from it. From the situation, from this gorgeous resort and restaurant, and from him.

Logan Wright sat across from me, larger than life, and looking even more handsome in person than he had in the photographs. I’d been so shocked by his sudden appearance at the bar, by the spiked drink and the shattered glass, that the little lightbulb in my brain hadn’t clicked on until after we’d left that dive.

“Patatas bravas?”

I blinked and refocused on the scenario.

There was Logan, with that jaw that could cut granite and eyes the same color as it, hard and cold with that spark of power. He was alive, as if what was in him wanted to get out, but didn’t at the same time.

This was a man who had the potential to unseat everything I knew about myself. That had never happened before. I’d never believed it could. He made my skin prickle.

“Miss?”

I tore myself from his stare and found the waiter at my side, holding a tray with a collection of bowls on top. He flashed a smile at me. “Your tapas,” he said. “Patatas Bravas?”

“Right, yeah, sure,” I said and shifted back.

He placed the bowls between us on the white tablecloth, one by one by one. It took an eternity, and all through that forever, Logan’s gaze was stuck on me, undressing me—not physically, but in character.

Can he tell? Does he know?

The man had said to wear the dress, to meet Mr. Wright at the bar at the specific time, and that was what I’d done, much to my chagrin. He was a target in a loose sense, but the gun was aimed at me. I was in his sights.

“—else?” The waiter’s voice interrupted my thoughts again.

“Sorry, could you repeat that?” I asked.

He twirled his little mustache and kept on smiling like he made his money this way. He opened his mouth to reply.

“Nothing,” Logan said, before he could speak. “We don’t need anything else except peace. Thank you.”

The waiter’s smile vanished, but he dipped into a bow that would’ve been fit for a king. “As you say, Mr. Wright.” He scuttled off without a backward glance, and I did my best not to focus on the pit of nerves in my stomach, or the heat of Logan’s gaze tracking down my face and over my lips.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “I’m sorry you had to go through that tonight.”

“I’m fine,” I replied and managed a grin. It was nowhere near as impressive as that waiter’s had been. Instead, it sloshed around on my face, refusing to take hold. “I’m from New York, Long Island to be exact,” I continued, “It’s not the first time some jackass has tried to cop a feel. Or spike my drink. You ever been to New Jersey? You won’t believe the shit that goes on there.” Of course, he hadn’t been to New Jersey. He was a billionaire, not one of the cast from the Jersey Shore.

“That doesn’t improve my mood.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wright, but improving your mood wasn’t on my agenda.”

“Then what is on your agenda?” he asked.

“The truth.”

“Not what I meant,” he said and lifted a glass of scotch. He sipped it and placed it neatly back on the table. So in control of his movements, each one as powerful as the last.

“Then what did you mean?” I asked, leaning into the question. Maybe if I moved my body with it, I’d banish my fear. He doesn’t know. He can’t know. This is wrong. I need to get out of here. Make the phone call.

“I mean, what’s a gorgeous woman like you doing sitting in a rundown bar on Isla Santa Maria at ten p.m. at night?”

Now, there was a truth I wasn’t particularly keen to discuss. “My business is private,” I replied and swallowed hard. “Sorry, I don’t mean to sound like a bitch. Let’s just say that tonight was a wakeup call.”

“You were stood up for a date?” he asked.

“How do you figure that?”

“The dress, the face, the look in your eyes. The man who stood you up will kick himself for centuries. Then again, any man who wants to meet you in El Toro Bar isn’t worth your time.”

“I met you in El Toro,” I replied, easily, and managed a genuine smile this time.

His reputation was fabled in New York, this billionaire, this recluse, and I’d expected silence and coldness, not the charm which oozed from him. Equal parts power and politeness. Not a white knight, but a man with a purpose—to turn my insides into jelly, at this rate.

“And I’m not worth your time,” Logan said.

I picked up my fork and speared a wedge of what looked to be potato, swimming in a vibrant red sauce. Anything to distract me from him, and the heat creeping up my throat. He’d saved me for real, the spiked drink hadn’t been a part of the plan, as far as I knew, and every cell in my body screamed for me to back out of the deal before I fell into it too deep.

But there was too much at stake.

I inserted the fork between my lips and ate. “Oh fuck,” I said. “Oh my god.”

“Hot?”

“Like you won’t believe.” I flushed and fanned myself. Fire spread across my tongue and saliva filled my mouth. I made a grab for my water and glugged it down – some spilled from the glass and onto my chest, trickled down between my breasts.

Logan traced the droplets’ journey with his gaze.

I heated all over again. God, this is bad.

“So,” Logan said and ate a devil wedge himself. He didn’t break a sweat – of course, he didn’t, he was the ball busting billionaire. His soul and likely his very cells were deadened to pain.

“So?”

“What do you do for a living? I’d like to know more about the woman I rescued.”

“I’m not usually the damsel type,” I said and tried for evasion. This topic skirted too close to my problem, and soon to be his problem.

“Then tell me what you are?” He tilted his head to the side, his dark locks falling across a forehead with its fine lines, a roadmap of memory, maybe. Or just a roadmap of every shit event in his life. Either way. “I’m guessing… hmm… I’m guessing you’re an actress. Were you meeting a director at that pub?”

“An actress?” I narrowed my eyes at him. “What kind of actress would meet a director at a rundown pub?”

Humor danced at the corners of his lips. They twitched upward, and the smile, oh my holy god, the smile. It was devilish and perfect, and so totally not what I wanted. Maybe what you need.

“Not an actress?” He ate another wedge, languid in his motions. “Then what? I’m puzzled, and I’ll admit I like a good mystery.”

“You and me both,” I said, before I could stop my idiot mouth.

He quirked an eyebrow.

“I’m a writer,” I said. That part was true.

Logan froze, studied me from top to toe in that undressing manner. Shivers chased down my spine. His shoulders were so broad, like they’d carry the weight of the world, but that wasn’t what got me about him.

He’d looked out for me back at the bar, though he could’ve turned away, and now, he’d fed me – always a way to a girl’s heart. Never mind all the steely glares and the sheer, raw power and the –

“What kind of writer?”

“Novelist,” I choked it out, then grabbed a napkin and dabbed my lips. “Sorry,” I managed. “I’m on fire. Excuse me while I run to the ladies room.” I lurched out of my seat and strode off across the polished parquet flooring, toward the archway which led into the hallway of the resort’s main building.

I needed privacy. I needed to breathe.

I made it to the alcove next to a potted plant before I dragged my cellphone out of my handbag and dialed. It rang three times, then clicked off.

“Come on,” I whispered. “Come on, Mom. Pick up.” I redialed. I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart beating a mile a minute.

The phone rang and then… “Hello? Sweets, is that you?”

“Mom,” I whispered. “Thank god. Why didn’t you answer your phone? I was worried sick.”

“Sorry, I just got in from HQ,” she replied and cleared her throat. “Well? Are you there? Have you met him? How did it go?”

“I’m here.”

“Jinx?”

“I’m here,” I said, again. “I’m here with him. Something happened that wasn’t part of the plan, but I’m okay and I’m with him now. I just… Mom, I really want to do this. I want us to be safe, but this doesn’t feel right. I can’t—”

“Honey, I know. I know, I know, this is a horrible situation, but we’ve got to be real here. If we don’t do what they want, it’s over for both of us. The magazine goes under, they do god knows what to our house, they take everything we love and, I hate to say it, but these men, they’re dangerous. They’ll do more than just burn the business. They’ll… they’ll—”

“Don’t say it,” I whispered, and turned my back to the hall, pressed my forehead to the wall next to a painting of palm trees and white sands. “Mom, it’s all I can think about. I’m really worried about you there, alone.”

“You wouldn’t let me go out there to do the article, hon, remember? This was your choice. Just do what it takes. Get the inside scoop. Stay as close to him as possible. I mean, the closer you get to the truth, and the quicker you do it, the sooner you get to come back and this will all be over. The threat will be gone.”

“I know,” I said, but for the millionth time, I couldn’t fathom why it had to be us, why these bastards had come to our paper rather than any of the other business-centered magazines in New York. We were an authority, yeah, and one of the most popular, but it still blew.

I inhaled and forced the air out through my nose. “Just be safe, okay? Don’t open the door for any strangers and if this guy, Marino, calls you just… I don’t know, just tell him everything’s going according to plan. I’ll write the exposé. I’ll do whatever he wants.”

“No one’s called,” Mom replied, but there was a lie in her voice, and it made my hair stand on end. “And I’m perfectly safe. I’ve got Butch here, remember? Say ‘hello’ darling.” Butch, Mom’s golden retriever, barked happily in the background and let out a whine.

“Hello Butch,” I said.

“Who’s Butch?” Logan’s voice sliced right through my conversation.

“I’ve got to go,” I whispered, then hung up the phone. I swiveled slowly, faced the man who towered in the hallway, even bigger now that he was free of the confines of the restaurant.

“Do you usually eavesdrop on people’s conversations?” I asked.

“You were facing a wall talking to yourself. I was concerned.”

“I see I’ve made an awesome first impression on you. You think I’m clinically insane.” I slipped the cell phone back into my clutch and clipped that shut. “I – I’ve got to thank you, Mr. Wright. I don’t know if I did it properly before, but thank you for helping me tonight. I’d better get going back to my hotel, though.”

“Name?”

“Huh?”

“The hotel. What’s its name?”

“The Fuego,” I replied.

“Yeah, no, you’re not going back to that side of town,” he said. “You’ll stay here. I’ve got a bungalow with two rooms.”

“Why?” I asked.

He blinked at me. “So I can lure you back to it.”

“That’s not funny,” I replied.

“Are you sure? It sounded funny in my head.”

Finally, I laughed, and the weight which’d sat on my chest loosened.

“It was the only place they had left,” he replied, after a beat. “So, what do you say? Want to sleep in my bungalow? You can have the bigger room.”

“How generous of you,” I said, and it was only a little sarcastic.

“I’m a generous guy,” he replied and held out his arm. “The choice is yours, damsel.”