Accidental Surprise
777 Words
Logan’s POV
The room was quiet, save for the soft ticking of the antique clock on the wall. Everyone else had gone home hours ago, but I stayed behind, like always, me, a glass of scotch I hadn’t touched, and a damn picture I couldn’t stop staring at.
It was old, worn around the edges. My grandfather, still strong in that photo, stood holding a girl with wild red curls and a grin that made your chest ache. Seraphina, she was called. The girl I was supposed to marry. The last wish of a dying man. A promise I hadn’t yet fulfilled.
Didn't Grandfather say he made that promise to her father as a result of his sacrifice. Taking a bullet in place of him and dying in the process. Too bad his daughter had been moved immediately after his death. I hadn't found out what foster home she'd been placed as well.
I stared at the photo, as if she’d blink and come alive. As if the kid version of her would look up at me and say “I’m here.”
But she never did.
Instead, my mind drifted, uninvited, to someone else. Someone very real. Pollyana Dennis. My new secretary.
God help me.
She wasn’t my type, not at first glance. Too modest. Too quiet. Always pushing those damn glasses up her nose, shrinking whenever I entered the room like she’d rather be invisible. The kind of woman who probably baked for stress and slept in cartoon pajamas.
But then, there were the moments.
The glances she thought I didn’t catch. The way her lips parted when I stood too close. The heat blooming in her cheeks when I called her name in a meeting. And yesterday… yeah, yesterday she’d walked in with a silk blouse that clung to her like a second skin, n*****s pressed firm against the fabric.
Innocent my ass.
She didn’t know it, but she’d been poking the bear. And I was starting to wonder how much she could take before she broke.
I leaned back, exhaling sharply.
I needed to get laid. It was that simple. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time I let someone into my bed. I had too much work, too many distractions and maybe I was too damn picky.
My phone buzzed on the desk. I checked and saw an Airdrop request. No subject. Just a file.
I frowned, brows furrowing. I hesitated a beat, then tapped “Accept.”
The video opened. And everything in me stopped. It was Polly dressed in a white puffy gown that I guessed was her bridal gown. The gown was only held up on her waist, her top bare, just as she spread her legs as well. She looked f*****g glorious.
Those red curls falling around her flushed cheeks, her thighs spread wide, fingers working between them like she knew exactly what she needed. And then—
"Logan," she moaned.
My name on her lips. Over and over. She looked straight at the camera, the green colour in her eyes heavy and popping, lips parted—like she was thinking of me. Like she wanted me.
When she was coming undone and screaming my name like a prayer, I gripped the desk. My c**k strained painfully against my slacks as I hit replay.
Again.
And again.
This can't be the same girl who stammers when I ask her to hand me a file. This can't be the Polly who tugs her sleeves down to hide her arms, who jumps every time someone touches her shoulder. But it was.
The freckles on her chest. The slight tremble in her thighs. The soft gasp when she whispered my name like a secret prayer. She was fire. And I was burning.
I dragged a hand through my hair, my mouth dry. I didn’t even realize I’d stood up until I felt the pressure in my pants shift. I swore under my breath, sitting back down and replaying it one last time, slowly.
Her eyes. Her mouth. The sweet, desperate sound of her voice. Something snapped inside me.
I reached for the landline, fingers tight around the receiver.
"Get me Russo," I said.
The line clicked, a sleepy voice on the other end. "Logan?"
"I need you to dig up everything you can find on Pollyana Dennis. Background, family, education, online presence. Everything."
"Now?"
"Yes. Tonight." My voice was cold steel. "And don’t stop until you’ve given me something I can use."
I hung up and leaned back, staring at the video frozen on the last fr
ame. She didn’t look so innocent anymore. And I had a new obsession.
- Writer
