ROWAN CARTER
Logan didn’t knock. He never did.
The glass doors to my office slammed open so hard my assistant nearly spilled the tablet she was holding. The color drained from her face the second she saw him. It never ended well when my dear brother would pay me a visit, especially in my office.
“Sir—” she started, voice shaking.
“Get out,” Logan snapped without looking at her.
She didn’t need to be told twice. Neither did the two executives seated across from my desk. Chairs scraped, files were grabbed, and within seconds the office was empty except for the two of us.
I didn’t move. Didn’t look up from the document I was signing. My work is more important than my brother who throws the best tantrums . The silence bothered him. It always did.
“So,” Logan said, his voice sharp, coil
