Logan (A Cocky Cage Fighter Novel) Page 13

  “I don’t know if I can just pretend it didn’t happen,” he says as he scrubs his hands over his face.

  “Try. Please,” I beg; because if he keeps it up, I’ll cave, and then things will end badly. “I want to work for you. I need to prove to my dad that I can be responsible and reliable. And I’m sorry if my actions in Cancun led you to believe I wanted more. It was just supposed to be one fun night.”

  Logan looks like he’s going to argue with me, but then he looks away from me.

  “Fine,” he eventually grumbles before stalking back around his desk to flop down in his seat.

  “So, what do you need me to do for you?” I ask.

  Logan barks out a non-humorous laugh. “Well, I’d tell you, but unfortunately you said I couldn’t talk about that.”

  Oh, wow, this is going to be difficult. Logan told me he missed me and just implied that he needed me, and I can’t be there for him.

  “How about if I go get you some coffee?” I offer instead.

  “Yeah, whatever,” he mutters, focusing on the computer screen in front of him.

  “How do you like it?” I ask, causing him to look over and glare at me. “I mean, how do you like your coffee?” Jeez, avoiding anything that can be taken as innuendo is gonna be harder than I thought.

  “One sugar and two creams, please,” he answers through gritted teeth.

  “Coming right up,” I reply before I escape his office.

  …

  Logan

  I’m so fucking pissed I can’t even think straight. And I don’t even have any idea who I’m pissed at. Mostly myself, I guess, since I can’t be upset with Brayden. She’s right; she did make it very clear before we even got back to the hotel that all she wanted was one night with me. One night that went right into the entire next day and was hands down the best sex of my life. It wasn’t just the sex. We were amazing together. I’ve never had the kind of closeness, the connection that I had from the very start with Brayden. I could see myself with her for the rest of my life. How can I be upset with her if I want more when she told me from the beginning that she didn’t want more with me?

  While I’m not angry at her over my busted ego caused by her rejection, I’m really fucking angry at the asshole Brayden’s with again. If I knew who he was, I would kick his ass. So I guess it’s good I don’t, because I would probably get thrown in jail, and Page would never let me live it down.

  After Brayden returns with my coffee, looking so damn sexy in her white pantsuit that it should be a crime all on its own, I realize that I may be stuck with her as my assistant who wants nothing to do with me, but that doesn’t mean I can’t send her on errands.

  “I need you to go down to the law library and pull some statutes for me,” I tell her after she sits the coffee mug down on my desk. And fuck, she smells so good, bringing back the memory of waking up with my nose buried in her hair and skin.

  Get your shit together, Logan!

  “I can, but aren’t those available online?” she asks sweetly.

  “Yes, but I like to have the books in my hands,” I respond, needing to get rid of her and put some space between us until I can get my head straight.

  “Okay. Do you have a list?” she asks.

  Fuck.

  Grabbing a notepad and a pen, I start scribbling down random numbers, certain that some probably don’t even exist. That’s great, though, because she’ll have to spend more time downstairs rather than standing before me and causing me to suddenly develop a naughty secretary fetish.

  “Here,” I say after I tear the page off the pad and hand it to her.

  “I’ll be right back,” she replies.

  God, I hope not, I think to myself.

  As soon as she leaves, my head falls into my hands. I’ve never been in this situation before, because I haven’t dated anyone where I actually cared whether or not I got to be with them again. It’s always been easy to move on because I’ve never gotten attached.

  Now I have, and being around Brayden, knowing she doesn’t feel the same way about me, hurts as much as someone taking a knife and chopping up my heart into tiny pieces. It sucks that she’s not the type of woman I can just get over. There’s no getting over Brayden, especially with her being so close.

  And I must be a glutton for punishment, because I’d rather be in agony with her nearby than not see her again.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Brayden

  Logan gave me busy work.

  I figured that out for certain when I couldn’t find the first two out of three statutes on his list.

  But still, I take my time since he obviously wanted to get rid of me. I hate hurting him, but if he only knew how bad his life could be if he caught us together, especially when we’re right under his nose…

  Arms come around my waist while I’m standing in the middle of one of the rows of books in the empty library, and right away I know they’re not Logan’s because they squeeze me roughly, almost to the point of pain.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you were home?” his gruff voice whispers into my ear.

  Using my elbow, I ram it into his abdomen to make him move away from me. Turning around to face him when he lets me go to clutch his ribs, I say, “Leave me alone, Marcus.”

  “You’re not still mad about Cancun, are you?” he asks through his narrowed brown eyes as he crosses his arms over his chest.

  “Being left in a tiny, shitty Mexican jail cell without food or water for three days goes beyond mad. I’m…I’m livid at you!” I tell him.

  “Three days?” he asks with his forehead wrinkled. He may be in his fifties, but he doesn’t look like it with his black hair styled like a handsome movie star and the fit body to match in his expensive designer suit. “What are you talking about, Brayden? You were back in New York by the next afternoon.”

  “No, I wasn’t,” I correct. “My phone was.”

  “Oh,” he mutters. “But why didn’t your friends get you out? I left a message at the hotel for them.”

  “None of them had any money after paying for the trip. The most they could come up with is three hundred, and the guards wouldn’t take it!” I tell him.

  “I’m so sorry, babe. If I had known…” He starts to reach for me again, but I hold up my palm to stop him.

  “Don’t. Don’t touch me. Don’t come near me. I’m so fucking done with you for good this time, Marcus. No more apologies. No more excuses. I’ve had enough,” I tell him. “And…and if you don’t give me some space, I’ll tell my father,” I threaten.

  “Oh yeah?” he asks. “And who do you think he’ll believe? Me, his partner of twenty years and upstanding man in the community, or you, his troublemaking daughter who causes him nothing but headaches?”

  “I guess we’ll find out,” I reply as I start to walk away.

  “Is something going on with you and Davenport?” he asks, causing my steps to falter.

  “God, no,” I scoff. “He’s just the low man on the totem pole who got suckered into bailing me out of jail.”

  “And now you’re suddenly working for him when you were supposed to be my assistant?” he adds with his jaw clenched.

  “That was Daddy’s decision. You already have several assistants, and Logan needed one.”

  “That better be all there is to it,” he grumbles. “If I find out there’s more…”

  “There’s not!” I assure him, hoping he buys the lie and lets it go.

  “Good,” Marcus says. “I’ll be by later to make sure.”

  Fucking great.

  …

  Logan

  Well, I survived one entire day with Brayden hovering around me, smelling and looking so damn good I barely refrained from attacking her. But I managed.

  It’s just after five when I press the button to call the elevator, much earlier than I usually leave the office, but I couldn’t endure another second being cooped up in my office with temptation personified.

  The elevator dings, and then
one set of doors slide open. A man in a navy suit comes out as I start on. “Excuse me,” I say to him as I step aside to let him get off. I’m distracted, so it takes me a second to realize it’s Marcus Anderson, the other senior partner over the firm.

  “How are you doing, Mr. Anderson?” I ask politely, stepping aside to speak to him, which makes me miss the elevator. Anderson is one of the men who will decide my future fate with the firm, whether I remain an associate or if I become a partner one day, so I can afford to take a minute to ass kiss.

  “Doing just fine,” he answers as he holds out his hand for me to shake. “You’re a new associate in the criminal division, correct? What was your name again?”

  Great. I’m not even a blip on his radar yet.

  “Logan. Logan Davenport,” I reply as we shake. He grips my hand so hard I nearly wince. What the hell is his problem? I squeeze back until he finally drops my hand.

  “Right, you’re Jack’s son, aren’t you?”

  “I am,” I answer.

  “How do you like our firm so far?” he asks while sliding his hands into the pockets of his suit pants.

  “It’s great. I’d love to get some work inside the courtroom, but I know that takes time.”

  “Yeah, well, not everyone is cut out for the courtroom,” he tells me snidely. “You look like you’re more of an errand boy than defense counsel.”

  What the fuck? Is he serious? He thinks I’m no better than some errand boy?

  Straightening my tie, I tell him, “While I know that appearing before the United States Patent and Trademark Office doesn’t sound very exciting, I did work with dozens of Fortune 500 companies, helping them protect millions of dollars' worth of inventions.”

  “Yes, and it’s great that your father was able to refer such great clients to you,” he says. “But it looks like you’re in a hurry to get out the door before the office even closes, so we can save our discussion for another time.”

  Holy shit, he’s an asshole.

  The one day, one single day that I try to duck out early and I run into the senior partner.

  Rather than mention the hours of overtime I’ve had every week since I started at the firm, I simply nod. “You’re right. Good talking with you,” I say before I turn around and head for the stairs, too impatient and pissed off to wait for the elevators again.

  God, that man is an absolute dickhead, trying to cut me down in every way possible. I get the impression that he doesn’t like me, which is strange since we’ve only met once when I had an interview months ago. The firm hired me, so the fact that he loathes me now doesn’t make sense.

  When I finally reach the lobby, I push through the glass front door, eager for some fresh air to cool my anger and libido when it suddenly hits me that I forgot the damn Cortez file I need to keep working on the motion for appropriate relief from home. Maybe I’ll be able to be somewhat productive in my apartment without Brayden lurking around in her tight, sexy pants with her breasts trying to bust free of her jacket.

  Turning back around, I take the elevator up this time and then hurry down the hall to my office. The door’s closed, which I don’t remember doing when I left. Why would Brayden shut it?

  What I see when I push the door open makes me forget every fucking thought in my head as I try to make sense of the scene before me…

  Marcus Anderson is standing behind Brayden, who is practically bent over my desk, with one of his arms banded tightly around her waist and the other…wrapped around her pants leg so high up her thigh that his thumb has to be brushing against her pussy.

  Both of their surprised faces turn toward me.

  “What the fuck?” I exclaim.

  Anderson quickly takes his hands off of Brayden and moves back from her a few steps while she straightens and fixes her jacket.

  “This is none of your business, Davenport,” Anderson barks at me.

  “I beg your pardon, sir, but since you’re in my office feeling up my assistant, I think it does fall into the category of being my business.”

  “In case you’ve forgotten, this is my firm and my building. I let you use this office and this assistant, but it’s still all mine.”

  Whoa.

  His proprietary words, claiming Brayden as his, makes me want to rip his throat out. And I don’t give a good goddamn who the fuck he is.

  “Your firm and Mr. Chambers,” I challenge. “And I wonder what the fuck he would say about you forcing yourself on his daughter in one of his offices.”

  “Ha!” he throws back a harsh laugh. “You’re certainly one to talk. I haven’t forced myself on Brayden any more than I’m guessing you have, right, Logan?”

  What the hell is he…

  Oh shit.

  My eyes lock with Brayden’s lowered ones as understanding dawns. This is the man she’s been with for years? The man who is a controlling, possessive asshole.

  “Believe me; she wants it. Don’t you, babe?” Anderson says while I stare gaping at them like a fish out of water.

  “He’s, um, he’s right,” Brayden says, the first words she’s spoken since I walked in, yet she still won’t look at me. “Please don’t tell my father. If he knew, he would try to end things, and I…I don’t want that.”

  Her request sounds like it’s coming from a fucking robot that’s been programmed to go along with whatever the hell Marcus tells her to say.

  I offered to help her, wanted to be with her, and she chose him?

  “Both of you get the fuck out of my office, or I’ll call him right this second,” I warn them with my chest heaving. I can’t stand the sight of them, not after what I know, what I walked in on. I swear it feels like my head is gonna explode trying to process all of that shit.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Brayden

  “You could’ve been a little more believable,” Marcus says while we wait for the elevator.

  “Why do you think something’s going on with Logan and me?” I whisper. “I told you there wasn’t.”

  “Sure,” he murmurs sarcastically. “And maybe I would have believed that before IT found the photos from Cancun that he uploaded to his computer from his phone,” he answers with a smirk.

  “You’re spying on him?” I ask in disbelief.

  “He’s an attractive man, and you’re a slut. It wasn’t that hard to put together,” he grumbles. “If he touches you again, he’ll be unemployed and blackballed at every other firm in the country,” Marcus says before he steps onto the elevator. “Get on,” he tells me when I don’t move. “Get on and let me take you to dinner, or I’ll go fire him now.”

  “I hate you,” I mutter as I step into the elevator with him.

  “There’s always a thin line between love and hate,” he says, then pushes the button for the lobby floor.

  Now, not only will I have to stay away from Logan, but I’ll also have to put up with the jerk or have it come back on Logan’s career.

  It seems the harder I try to fight Marcus, the worse things get for me.

  I knew that I was in a never-ending prison with him. I just hate to think that, by trying to help me, Logan has put himself in danger. I need to figure out a way to warn him without Marcus finding out, and that is not going to be easy.

  …

  Logan

  I’m so fucking angry thinking about Brayden and…and Marcus fucking Anderson that I’m pretty sure I could punch my way through the walls of the firm.

  The first thing I need to do is get out of here without running into either of them again, and then, well, I need to find someone to talk to about this shit.

  As a workaholic, I don’t have many close friends other than the guys I used to work with at my father’s firm. Since he retired, everyone has gone their separate ways.

  I guess that leaves…Page.

  When I pull up to Page and Jax’s house, I realize I probably should have called first, but the thought didn’t even cross my mind. I’m not thinking rationally right now, so I hope my sister will
forgive me for just dropping by.

  After I ring the doorbell, it opens, but it’s not Page on the other side. It’s her husband Jax, the famous MMA fighter.

  Running my fingers through my hair, I say, “Hey, Jax. Sorry to come over without calling but is Page home?”

  Jax arches one of his dark eyebrows as he stares at me. “No, she just left work and is picking up Xavier from preschool. But I have to know, what’s got your feathers fucking ruffled?”

  “Is it that obvious?” I ask.

  “Ah, yeah,” he responds. “I’ve never seen a single one of your hairs out of place, and now…” He motions to the top of my head. “Looks like a bird’s nest.”

  “Yeah, I don’t doubt it,” I reply since I’ve been trying to tug handfuls of it out.

  “You wanna come in and tell me what’s up over a beer?” he asks.

  “I could use a beer…or an entire case,” I agree.

  “Come on then,” he says before he turns around and walks back through the house, almost letting the door hit me in the face. If you didn’t know the man, you’d swear he’s an asshole. And he is. But the fact is, he treats my sister like a queen and is a great father to my nephew.

  I follow him into the kitchen where I hear the fridge open and bottles clanging. He holds out a Budweiser for me; then we take a seat at the kitchen table.

  Jax takes a sip of his own beer and follows it up with, “So, spit it out already.”

  “Right,” I agree. After I guzzle about half of my bottle, I set it on the table and start peeling the label off with a fingernail while I talk. “There’s this woman…”

  “There always is,” Jax mutters. “Go on.”

  “I fell for her pretty hard.”

  “Okay?” he says. “So what’s the problem?”

  “Now she’s with someone else. A complete asshole who is way too old for her. Well, I guess I’m a little old for her too, but it’s different. He’s a jackass who’s possessive, and I get the feeling that she thinks she’s trapped with him and doesn’t know how to get out of the relationship.”