Chapter 17
Ava
My heart feels full and my body at peace, floating in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea. It’s the bluest of blue, reminding me of Logan’s big, beautiful eyes.
Everything feels like a dream, traveling on private jets, hopping from one country to the next, living like the rich and famous.
Logan seems unfazed, and I guess that makes sense because this is his normal life, but to me this is unbelievable. The yacht is larger than any boat I’ve ever seen, with seven bedrooms, a full kitchen and several lounge areas for us to relax.
There’s even a smaller boat for us to travel to and from islands, which is just too much for me to even wrap my head around.
“My little mermaid,” I hear over my shoulder just before I feel Logan’s arms wrapping around me.
“Logan, you can’t swim and carry me,” I warn him as he swims on his back, heading back to the yacht.
“Sure I can. I was a lifeguard,” he says, as if this is the simplest task.
“You were?”
My perception of Logan before spending any time with him was that he had never worked a day in his life. I expected him to be pretentious and arrogant, yet he’s nothing like that. Every new fact I learn about his life is a precious gem to me, and the more I get to know, the more interested I am to learn more.
“Yep, at the country club all four years of high school,” he answers once we reach the steps to the yacht.
With a firm hand on my ass, Logan helps me up the narrow staircase as I glance back at him. Smirking like an immature teenager caught staring at my breasts, he follows me up, hugging me from behind once we reach the landing.
“Mr. Draper, can I speak with you when you’re free?” Rodrick asks after announcing his presence with an exaggerated cough.
“Sure,” he nods to Rodrick, before turning to me. “How about you go get changed for dinner while I handle business. I’ll meet you in the dining room in an hour,” he says before kissing me softly while I melt all over.
“Sounds good,” I whisper on his lips and then walk back to my bedroom on wobbly legs.
Falling onto my bed, with my arms flailing in the air feeling as though I’m fainting, I think to pinch myself. All this feels like a fairy tale. The past two days on this amazing yacht have been nothing short of perfection. Being a gentleman, Logan even gave me my own private bedroom, although I’ve chosen to sleep with him on both nights.
Our sexual chemistry is through the roof after I feared the first time could be a fluke. It’s like he gets better each time, and my body craves him even when he’s inside of me. Never in my life have I felt such a strong connection to anyone, but every part of me is just enjoying every part of him.
Wanting to tell someone about my incredible experience, I reach for my laptop, hoping to catch Petra on Skype so that we can have a quick chat. We’ve been playing phone tag since I left LA, and she’s not online when I finally connect to the Internet.
An alert goes off for a new email from her and I get excited. It’s been so long since I talked to my best friend, and even though it’s not in real time, I’m happy to hear from her.
I guess I’ll resort to email since you’re jet setting around the world without thinking of me. Tear.
No, really, sorry I missed your calls. I’ve been swamped at the office, but in a good way. The accounts receivable for this month is the highest in two years!
How is the on-call gig going? Is the asshole actually opening up, or just bragging about how many yachts he owns? I still can’t understand why he needed you to go there with him, so I just hope the sessions are worth it. I have an idea about more billings for him, but I’ll talk to you about that when you get back and give me an update on your progress.
Have fun, but don’t let him take advantage of you. He’s used to getting anything he wants, so don’t let him treat you like the help just because he’s paying you.
Love, Petra
My heart sinks more than once while reading her message. First, when she calls him an asshole, because my instinct is to defend him. That’s not who he is, regardless of what she’s heard. Then my heart sinks again, as she asks about the sessions, because we haven’t had one real conversation about life coaching since we left Los Angeles.
Logan hasn’t brought it up, but even worse, neither have I. As the professional, it’s my job to keep things in order, and I’ve completely dropped the ball. Not only am I not fulfilling my job, but I’m sleeping with the client! What type of unethical sleazeball have I become?
My stomach turns and twists in knots as I shower, my mind racing with ways to turn this around, although I think it’s impossible. We’ve gone too far, and I need to just cut my losses and end this partnership altogether if I want to salvage any respect or integrity.
Wearing a black flowing maxi dress, I head to the dining hall as if I’m going to a funeral. It does feel as if someone has died, so I guess it’s fitting. After spending too much time trying to work through my thoughts, I couldn’t manage to dry my hair in time for dinner, pulling it up into a damp top bun instead.
“You look beautiful,” Logan stands from the dining room table to greet me as I walk in.
Just seeing him brings on a wave of emotions so strong I have the urge to cry with every step I take. Knowing I’ll have to throw away all that’s happened between us sends me into a war of conflicting thoughts.
Turning my face, I barely miss his kiss as his lips land on my cheek. His confusion is palpable as he watches me sit down. So delayed in his thoughts, he doesn’t even help me into my seat, rushing to push my chair in afterwards, as he realizes his lapse in manners.
Focusing on the menu placed on the table setting in front of me, I run my fingers over the thick cardstock, tracing the golden embossed letters to look anywhere but into those deep blue eyes.
“Are you ready to order?” Julian asks. He’s been our waiter for our entire time in Greece, but tonight he feels like a stranger, because nothing is normal after reading Petra’s email.
“Yes, I’ll have the lobster,” I force a smile, handing the menu to him as Logan’s eyes widen with surprise.
Of all the meals we’ve shared together, he’s ordered every single one, except for my impromptu decision at the Istanbul restaurant on our evening of exploration. While I don’t mind whether I order or not, I know it means something to Logan. He enjoys knowing that I trust him, and the look on his face is a look of surprise as he shifts his attention back to Julian.
“I guess we’re having the lobster,” he says with raised eyebrows.
Julian’s eyes shift between the two of us like a child stuck between arguing parents.
“Would you like wine tonight?” he asks.
“No, thank you,” I answer at the same time as Logan’s, “Yes.”
Obviously confused, Julian suggests he bring a bottle and we decide amongst ourselves.
“Are you okay?” Logan leans across the table. Sliding my hand back to avoid his touch, I focus on the fresh white roses on the table.
“I think I’m catching a bit of a cold.”
“Oh,” he sounds almost happy, hopeful even. “I can have them make you soup if you’d like.”
“No, it’s fine. I probably just need a good night’s sleep,” I smile without flashing any teeth as he grins, probably thinking of why I haven’t gotten much sleep since we got to Greece.
“I guess that’s partly my fault,” he looks down, feigning shame, and I try to fight the smile, but my lips curl just thinking of our erotic nights together.
Julian brings the wine, and we make simple conversation as I continue to hold back. It’s awkward, at least for me, but Logan seems unbothered by it all.
Dinner is amazing as usual, but I pass on dessert, just wanting to get this torturous interaction over with. I want him so bad, sitting across from him knowing I can’t have him is painful.
Logan decides against dessert as well, rising to help me out of my chair, but I push back from the table before he can get to me.
“I was coming to help, babe,” he furrows his brows together.
“It’s okay, I got it,” I declare my independence, taking a breath as I prepare for what I know will be the most difficult part of the night.
“Let me get you to bed,” he drapes his arm over my shoulder, and I wiggle from beneath his hold.
“I think I’ll sleep in my own room tonight,” I hold my chin higher than normal as my stomach tenses with anxiety and desire.
“What? Why?” The words fall from his lips so fast I’m sure he didn’t mean to speak them so desperately, and before I can respond, he attempts to reclaim a bit of his dignity.
“I’ll let you sleep, babe. You don’t have to sleep alone,” he pulls me to him.
My treacherous body begins to melt, leaning into his touch, as his intoxicating scent plagues my airways. Everything about him is so alluring, so addictive, and I need my fix, but it’s not about what I want anymore, and I’m determined to stick to my decision.
“No, no. I need to be alone.”
“What’s going on, Ava?” He leans back, trying to see me through a new lens.
“I’m just not feeling well,” I lie.
“You were just fine when we got back from a swim. What’s happened?” he asks, tilting his head as if he’s caught me in my lie.
“Logan,” I sigh.
“Ava, I think I at least deserve to know what I’ve done. Have you heard a rumor about me or something? I swear nothing before you means anything.” His voice is laced with a pleading tone that makes my stomach drop with guilt.
“Logan…” I try again, but the words refuse to come out.
“Just tell me.” He lowers his head, and I swallow hard, knowing I must come clean. There’s no way I want him blaming himself for something that is my fault.
“I can’t do this, Logan. I’m your life coach,” I begin and his head snaps up, a look of disbelief on his face.
“Are you serious?”
“Yes! This is completely unethical and I’ve let it get out of control.”
“Baby,” he whispers, pulling me to him.
“No, Logan, no!” I push him away, which is more of an emotional struggle than a physical one.
“Ava…”
I hold my hand up to stop him. “I told you from the beginning, I take my career seriously, Logan. I’m going to sleep alone, I’ll see you tomorrow,” I turn and leave before he can speak another word.
I can sense his disapproval behind me, but he lets me go without a struggle. In some way that’s even worse, because deep down, I want him to fight for me. I want him to make me change my mind, because I still crave him in every way possible.
Immediately after closing the door to my bedroom, I press my back against the thick wood and sink to the floor. How could we go from perfection to disastrous so fast?