OBSESSION

THREE

Logan couldn't explain it, couldn't shake the feeling that he and Bethany were caught in a strange orbit, their paths crossing with a magnetic inevitability. It wasn't like him to dwell on anyone, especially someone he barely knew, but Bethany had hooked him in a way he couldn't ignore.

From the moment she walked into Monday's meeting, poised but unaware of the quiet storm she stirred, he'd felt it—a pull he could neither explain nor resist.

She seemed determined to keep her distance, her gaze drifting to him only in brief, stolen glances. But Logan was nothing if not observant, and he didn't miss the faint tremor in her hand when she'd flipped her notebook open, nor the way her eyes softened, lingering on him even when she tried to look away.

And when she spoke, finishing his thought with the word "obsessed," she hadn't just completed his sentence—she'd reached inside his mind.

She'd seen what he wanted, understood it with an unsettling accuracy, and for a moment, he'd felt stripped bare. The realization unsettled him. How could she see him so clearly, when everyone else only saw what they expected to see—a powerful man with a famous last name?

But that night at AA, when he'd heard her talking about him with an indifference that bordered on disdain, he'd felt the blow more acutely than he'd admit. He wasn't used to being dismissed, especially not by someone like her, someone who clearly stirred something deeper in him.

She spoke as if he were just another arrogant rich guy, shallow and spoiled, and it had stung. The rational choice was to let it go, to chalk her up as another person who didn't see him, who didn't care to look beyond the surface.

Yet here he was, watching her across the bar with a quiet intensity that even his best friend couldn't ignore.

"You've been staring at that girl all night," Bryce's voice cut through his thoughts, low but sharp. "Why don't you just go say something instead of brooding over there?"

Logan clenched his jaw, his gaze still locked on Bethany, who seemed completely unaware of his attention from across the room.

"I'm not brooding," he muttered, though the denial rang hollow.

"You're staring right now, Logan," Bryce pointed out, his tone edging into amusement. Without warning, he clapped a heavy hand on Logan's back, jolting him enough to make his beer slip in his grip. The bottle clinked against the table as he barely managed to steady it before it tipped, spilling a bit onto his fingers.

"Careful," Logan growled, shooting his friend a dark look as he reached for a napkin. Bryce, however, merely grinned, completely unfazed.

"Guess you'll have to go to the bar for a new drink," Bryce said, shrugging nonchalantly. "Might as well grab her number while you're at it."

Logan didn't respond, the familiar smirk fading as he glanced back at Bethany. The thought of just walking over there, of cutting through her defenses and getting her to drop the wall she seemed so intent on keeping up, was as tempting as it was infuriating.

The idea of someone dismissing him, making assumptions about who he was—he'd built his entire life on proving people wrong. But Bethany wasn't like everyone else. Her opinion mattered more than he wanted to admit, and he couldn't ignore the low burn of frustration at the fact that she had already made up her mind about him.

It wasn't often Logan felt outmatched. But as she left the bar, vanishing into the night without so much as a second glance, he felt a pang of something he rarely experienced: disappointment. For once, he wasn't certain of himself. And it only made him more determined.

By Wednesday, Bethany was feeling the weight of Logan's presence even before he arrived. Walking into the office that morning, everything felt different. Every glance, every murmur of conversation seemed heavier.

Logan Chase requested her to be the lead, she knew everyone was saying. She was grateful for the confidence Marcus and Ryan had shown in her, but the unspoken pressure was undeniable.

After gathering the binders of meticulously arranged concepts, she headed to the conference room where her team was waiting.

Sierra, David, and Ryan were seated around the table, each flipping through their own notes in a silence that felt almost oppressive.

"I'm not sure he'll be convinced without something more concrete," David finally muttered, breaking the quiet. "We don't even have real visuals. How are we supposed to sell him on an idea when we haven't seen the place ourselves?"

Bethany squared her shoulders, forcing herself to stay steady. "We have the blueprints. That's why this is a concept meeting. We're here to discuss ideas, not show him a finished product."

Sierra, seated across from her with an unimpressed look, crossed her arms. "Concepts are great, but he's not going to want to flip through some half-baked sketches."

David nodded, his voice laced with a mix of skepticism and frustration. "If he wanted half-hearted inspiration, he could've found it on Pinterest."

Bethany bit back a sigh, keeping her tone measured. "The purpose of this meeting is to give him options. He needs a foundation before we can create something specific to his vision."

She didn't let on that she shared their doubts, that a part of her was wondering if they had enough to impress Logan. But then again, it wasn't Sierra or David she was trying to impress. And in a way, that thought steeled her.

Ryan, who'd been quiet, finally looked up, his tone level but edged with urgency. "Listen, we can't afford to lose this client. The office is stretched as it is, and Logan's account is what's keeping the doors open."

Sierra's brows shot up in alarm. "So, what—you'd fire us and keep someone like tasteless Melanie?"

Ryan's gaze was unyielding. "Melanie has clients. You three don't. Logan asked for Bethany, so we're giving him exactly that."

Bethany was about to respond when the door opened, and Logan walked in. His presence filled the room instantly, his gaze dark and sharp as he surveyed the group. A woman with jet-black hair stood beside him, holding a sleek binder, her demeanor professional and unyielding.

"Good morning, Mr. Chase." Sierra was the first to rise, offering her hand and an overly enthusiastic smile. "Sierra Collins—we've met before."

The desperation in her voice was almost palpable, but Logan shook her hand briefly, his attention already shifting. "Everyone, this is Mae Aznar, my assistant. When I'm not available, Mae will be your contact."

Mae nodded, setting the binder on the table and taking her seat. Logan's eyes fell on Bethany, lingering just a beat too long as he began to speak.

"Mae and I compiled some additional concepts to guide the direction we're going in. Since the building's unfinished, visuals are limited, but this should provide a framework."

Bethany felt a surge of relief.

She hadn't been wrong to rely on concepts, and Logan's expression told her he saw the value in it. As the meeting proceeded, her initial nerves began to dissipate, replaced by a quiet confidence. By the end, everyone was aligned on keeping the design true to the neighborhood's historic feel, blending it with modern touches without erasing its character.

When the team dispersed to prepare their notes, Bethany stayed behind, gathering her binders and laptop as Logan leaned against the table, watching her with that dark, unreadable gaze.

"You don't disappoint," he murmured, his voice low and steady. "Most would jump to a modern design, but you chose to respect the neighborhood. I like that."

Bethany met his gaze, her voice calm though her pulse quickened. "It's nothing special. People resist change, especially when it feels imposed on them."

A faint smile touched his lips, though it didn't reach his eyes. "You're doing that thing again."

She frowned, confused. "What thing?"

"That thing where you assume you know me," he replied, his tone edged with something almost bitter as he stepped closer, blocking her path to the door.

Bethany forced herself to hold his gaze, her own frustration simmering. "And isn't this you assuming you know me?" she challenged, though her heart hammered in her chest.

Logan's gaze hardened, a flicker of something dark and unreadable crossing his face. He leaned in, his voice a murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. "I don't intend to assume. I intend to know you."

The scent of his cologne was subtle but intoxicating, filling her senses as he lingered close, his presence overwhelming.

Bethany's breath caught, her resolve wavering as she fought to maintain her composure. The glass walls of the conference room were a stark reminder of where they were, and she forced herself to take a step back, breaking the invisible tether between them.

Logan's expression didn't falter, though his tone shifted back to business. "Are you free Friday at seven?" he asked, his voice still low, almost a growl. "I want to take you to the property so you can see the area firsthand."

Bethany felt a rush of unease, searching for an excuse. "I finish at five. Meeting clients after hours isn't exactly... standard."

Logan's chuckle was soft, almost mocking, as he held her gaze. "Then we'll make it a date. I won't be your client, and you won't be my designer."

The offer felt like a dare, but Bethany wouldn't let herself falter. "Fine," she replied, her voice steady.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, quickly replaced by something unreadable. "Really?"

"As lead designer, it's my job to know the space. I'll inform Marcus and Ryan to include it in the billable hours." She spoke with an icy professionalism, though her heart pounded in her chest.

"That doesn't sound like a date."

"Because it's not," she replied coolly. "No matter where we are, you're my client, and I'm your designer." She picked up her binders, glancing at him with a polite, detached smile. "I'll see you Friday, Mr. Chase."

Logan didn't move, his gaze intense as she walked past him. She didn't look back, but she felt his eyes on her, a weight that pressed on her shoulders long after she'd left the room.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Logan let out a long, quiet breath, a hint of resignation in his voice as he murmured, "Ms. Scott."

There was something about her that felt like a challenge he couldn't turn away from, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to.