Chapter 13: The Real Logan
879 Words
The city buzzed with a Saturday-night energy as Emily slipped into her favorite black satin dress, the one that hugged her curves like it had been sewn for sin. The fabric glided against her skin like silk and gave her just the right amount of confidence to survive the dinner party Logan had insisted she attend with him. It was some high-society event hosted by one of his family’s partners in the wine business. Normally, Emily would’ve declined. But after what had happened between them—the nights, the touches, the silent glances she now understood—saying no had become impossible.
Logan picked her up in a charcoal-black Maserati. His dark suit, perfectly tailored, looked like it had been born on his body. The moment he stepped out of the car and opened the door for her, Emily could feel every eye around them noticing. He smelled like cedar and whiskey, sharp and sensual, and when he whispered, “You look like temptation itself,” into her ear, she nearly lost her footing.
The party was in a penthouse that glittered with chandeliers and champagne. Everything sparkled—except Emily’s nerves.
She had been with Logan in so many ways, but she still didn’t know who he really was underneath the charm, wealth, and devil-may-care attitude. Tonight, she was hoping to find out. She wasn’t sure if she was ready for the answers.
“Are you okay?” he asked as they stepped inside, his hand resting at the small of her back.
“I should ask you that,” she said, scanning the crowd. “You’re the prince of this empire, after all.”
Logan smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “That title never felt like mine.”
They mingled, drank, and danced. Emily could see that Logan was adored in this world. Everyone wanted a piece of him—investors, socialites, even old-money families looking to marry off their daughters. Yet, he clung to Emily. He held her hand when no one was looking. He brushed her lips with his thumb when her lipstick smeared. He whispered things that made her shiver even in the heat of the crowded room.
And then it happened.
A woman appeared from the other side of the room. Early thirties, sharp cheekbones, glossy red lips, and a wine-colored dress that screamed designer. She walked straight to Logan like she had a claim on him.
"Logan Westwood," she purred. "I see you're still playing knight to your newest damsel."
Emily froze.
Logan stiffened. "Natasha."
Natasha.
The way he said her name—flat, cold—felt rehearsed, like he’d said it a thousand times in anger.
“I didn’t realize you were back in the city,” he added, his voice controlled.
“I go where I’m needed.” Natasha turned her gaze to Emily. “And who’s this? The help again?”
Emily felt the sting immediately, but she didn’t react.
“I’m Emily,” she said smoothly. “And you are?”
Natasha laughed. “Oh, darling. I’m his ex-fiancée.”
Emily blinked.
Logan clenched his jaw. “That’s ancient history.”
“But history has a way of repeating itself, doesn’t it?” Natasha smiled before brushing past them like a storm cloud.
Emily waited until they were alone near the bar before she asked, “Is she telling the truth?”
Logan ran a hand through his hair, his mask slipping. “Yes. We were engaged. Years ago. Before I turned twenty.”
Emily didn’t speak. She couldn’t. All the little pieces she had tried to make sense of were shifting again.
“She was arranged,” Logan continued. “By my parents. It was all for the empire, for legacy. I didn’t love her. Hell, I didn’t even know what love was then.”
“And now?”
His eyes found hers. “Now I know it scares the hell out of me. Because it’s not safe. It’s not strategic. It’s you.”
The words silenced everything.
Emily took a step back. “You kept it from me.”
“I was trying to protect us. From them. From that world.”
“But I’m already in it, Logan.”
She turned away, needing air. She stepped out onto the balcony, the wind biting her skin like punishment. She had gone from Daniel, with his dependable love, to Logan—a storm dressed in a tuxedo.
Moments later, Logan joined her, slipping off his jacket and wrapping it around her shoulders.
“I didn’t want to scare you away.”
Emily met his eyes. “You’re the only person who’s ever made me want to run toward the fire.”
He reached out, cupping her face. “Then stay with me, Emily. Let me show you who I really am.”
She leaned into his touch, heart in free fall.
“Start now.”
He kissed her—deeply, desperately. And in that moment, she realized something vital: Logan wasn’t perfect. He was flawed, broken in places no one could see. But maybe, just maybe, those pieces fit into her own.
Maybe this wasn't just a wild affair.
Maybe this was the beginning of something real.
And real… was the scariest part of all.
- Writer
