-ARIA-
Logan was back from Germany, and apparently, jet lag didn’t apply to men like him.
It was Saturday morning, and he asked—no, demanded—that I meet him at his place. His plane had landed only a few hours earlier, and the moment his feet touched American soil, he snapped straight into business mode.
He was such a workaholic that he kept a penthouse near the office, even though his real house was in Beverly Hills.
Logan’s house sat inside a gated community with high‑end security. Even arriving in his car with his driver, I still had to go through an absurd amount of checks just to get past the gates.
We drove past a row of massive, immaculate houses until we reached the very end of the street. Logan’s place was a modern construction perched high in the hills above Los Angeles. Desi
