The elevator hummed softly as we ascended, the air between Logan and me thick with something unspoken. It wasn't uncomfortable—just charged. I stole glances at him when I thought he wasn't looking, admiring the strong set of his jaw, the way his suit hugged his broad shoulders, the way his hands stayed tucked in his pockets—confident, unbothered.
When the doors opened onto the executive floor, I was about to step out when a young woman entered abruptly. She paused, blinking as her gaze flicked from me to Logan.
"Excuse me," she said sweetly, though the tilt of her head hinted at something else. "Are you Mr. Hartwell's wife?"
The question landed like a thud. I blinked, caught off guard. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. I looked up at Logan instinctively, but he hadn't moved
