by Sierra Rose
LoganAlexander3219. It seemed she wasn’t the only one thinking about last night.
After glancing over her shoulder to make sure that Sarah and Quin had returned to their own desks, she clicked open the message—a beaming smile spreading up the sides of her face...
...before melting right onto the floor.
What the fuck?!
Took the liberty of commemorating the night. Hope you don’t mind.
The message was simple. It was the picture that had her jaw dropping to the floor.
A full-length shot of her naked body.
Her chair scraped violently against the ground as she scooted it all the way into her desk, shielding the screen as best she could. Still, it was easy to see bits of her ivory skin. An exposed leg. The gentle curve of a hip. Her blonde hair spilling out over the pillow.
Logan—I am going to KILL you!
It had been taken while she was sleeping, but for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine when. He’d been as tired as she was by the time they finally turned in for the night. He was out before his head even hit the pillow.
...apparently not.
Before she could properly fume, there was a second ding as yet another message popped up. This one had a smiley-face in the subject line, as if he could sense her rage.
Don’t be mad. You looked so beautiful. I couldn’t help myself.
This one was accompanied by yet another picture—one take from the bed itself. It was close enough that Lacy could count every one of her eyelashes. But judging by the angle and direction of the camera, Logan obviously had a different target in mind.
Have I told you lately that you have the world’s most magnificent breasts?
Okay, this is too much.
She stared in horror at the pictures. At the look of restful unconcern on her face, and the slight shadow of a hand as it held the camera over her naked flesh. Over the course of her romantic life, there had been many times when the men she was with had asked for a picture or two. (Key word: asked.) Uncomfortable with the overall premise, she had always refused. As such, she could be confident that nowhere in the dark recesses of the internet, were there photos of her like the ones Logan was sending now. Professionally, she’d dealt with enough ‘revenge posts’ and blackmail to be incredibly relieved it was something she didn’t have to worry about herself. Until now.
So then...why was she grinning?
“Hey Lacy?”
There was another violent scraping as Lacy threw her body in front of the computer. Mugs rattled and a pencil holder tipped over the edge of her desk as she awkwardly turned around, smiling, as though it was all the most normal thing in the world.
Sarah raised her eyebrows slowly, but let it go.
“I have those pictures from last night.”
...what?
The world outside seemed to go suddenly dark, as Lacy froze in place. Her mouth falling slowly to the floor. Her blood freezing to ice in her veins.
“You...you do?”
There was a dull ringing in her ears, followed by a sudden tightening in her chest—one that was making it increasingly hard to breathe. The pictures on the screen seemed to burn through her clothes, branding her with shame, as her eyes locked on the ones in Sarah’s hand.
“Uh...yeah, crazy.” Sarah shot her another strange look, as if perhaps her coffee had been spiked with something stronger. “From the restaurant? Quin just printed them out.”
The world went crashing back into sudden focus, as time picked back up to regular speed.
“Oh, from...yeah, from last night.” Lacy could almost cry in relief. Could almost slap herself silly for not thinking things through. “Of course. Thanks, Em.”
Sarah handed over the photographs, but lingered by the desk—staring with thoughtful concern. “Jokes aside—are you okay? You look a little...shaken up.”
“What? Me?”
Why is it that my skills as a liar fail me every time I need them most?!
Lacy forced a casual smile, tapping her fingers nervously against the desk as her pulse slowly returned to normal. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little...tired. That’s all.”
Sarah’s face softened sympathetically. “Long night with the boyfriend? I’m guessing you guys had a lot to talk about...”
Not nearly as much as we’re going to have to talk about tonight.
“It was fine.” Lacy flashed another dismissive smile, shaking her head as though she hadn’t nearly vomited all over the floor. “At any rate, it’s settled—and we got what we needed from Brad. His wife should have an easy case against him.”
“On that note, why don’t you let me handle Lydia?” Sarah took the photographs back out of Lacy’s hands. “I think you’ve already paid your dues with this particular case.”
Another wave of relief swept through her body, and Lacy laughed nervously. “Yeah, thanks Sarah. I’ll just...get started on some other things that have been piling up.”
“Cool.”
Sarah vanished without another word—leaving Lacy in a state of mild cardiac arrest behind her. The second she was sure her friend was gone, she whirled back around to her computer—only to find that five more pictures were waiting in her inbox.
She couldn’t believe it. Each one was raunchier than the last.
Her getting dressed in the morning. Her stepping out of the shower. Her naked profile as she shed the last of her clothes and climbed into bed.
How the hell did he take all of these without me knowing?!
And perhaps more importantly...
Why the hell am I still fucking smiling?!
She didn’t understand exactly why. It went against the fundamentals of everything she believed in. But there was something about the fact that Logan took the pictures. That Logan was grinning behind the camera, enjoying her naked body, that couldn’t help but make her smile.
Not that he ever has to know that. The man is going to get an earful.
With another cautious glance over her shoulder, Lacy began typing a hasty response.
In case I didn’t make it clear this morning, I am at WORK. What the hell are you doing sending these kind of things to my inbox? And why exactly do you have them in the first place?
She expected a quick reply. She expected some of that famous Logan Chase wit. But he was slow writing back to her. And what he finally wrote was the last thing she expected.
Work, lol. I would love nothing more than to bend you over that desk, and fuck you senseless right there at the office. Any way we could make that happen? I’d make it worth your while. ;)
Lacy stared blankly at the screen, trying to read between the lines. What the hell was going through that pretty head of his? Was he drunk? Or just mischievous as all hell?
...have you gotten into the Scotch?
This time, the response from his end was much quicker. She got a reply almost as soon as she pressed send.
I’ve sent you a lot of pictures this morning. Send me one in return?
For the second time, Lacy’s jaw fell slowly open as she stared unblinkingly at the screen. What did he expect her to do? Ask Sarah and Quin to leave the room while she stuck her phone down her shirt and fired off a quick email? The man was insane!
You have officially lost it, lol. But you’ll see the real thing soon enough. Dinner tonight?
There. Maybe that would dissuade him for a while. She stared nervously at the computer, waiting for his reply. The second it came in, she clicked it open—only to be surprised yet again.
Can’t wait that long. Meet me at the Fairmont? I’ve booked us a room...
The Fairmont? One of the most expensive hotels in Cleveland? What the hell was this? He did realize they didn’t exactly rent out those rooms by the hour, right? She hesitated another moment, then typed out a hesitant reply.
I just got to the office, babe. I can’t just leave...
By now, her heart was pounding in her chest. She knew he was just teasing, but there was a different kind of edge
to it. One she didn’t know what to make of. One that made her a little nervous to do or say the wrong thing.
A few seconds later, she got her response. It wasn’t a message. It was another picture. A simple picture, but it was worth a thousand words.
A room key, held in an open hand.
She bit down on her lip as her body froze with indecision. Since Logan had gotten into town, she’d been missing quite a lot of work lately.
But he already purchased the hotel room. And she was technically the boss.
And she happened to know exactly what was on his mind...
Chapter 25
About twenty minutes later, Lacy was climbing out of her cab and stepping up the steep marble steps of the Fairmont Hotel. A man with gloved hands opened the door for her, and she swept into the lobby—feeling more than a little nervous as she approached the elevators.
He was on the top floor. The penthouse.
Of course he is, Lacy. He’s a freaking billionaire. That’s where they stay.
A feeling of excitement joined the nerves as she climbed higher and higher, watching the numbers light up above the elevator door. The rest of the people riding with her gradually climbed off onto their own floors, until finally, she was the only one left.
A second later, she’d reached the top.
Okay, here goes nothing...
A wave of incense-scented air hit her the second she stepped into the hall. The curtains were shut and the lights were dim—spotted with only a few scattered tea lights.
For a second, she merely froze. Glancing to the right and to the left.
“Logan?” she called nervously.
Then she saw it. The trail of rose petals leading from the elevator steps right into one of the bedrooms. A little smile crept up the sides of her face as she followed along, careful not to crush any beneath her shoes. That lavender-sandalwood aroma was getting stronger and stronger by the second. By the time she reached the closed door, her head was starting to spin.
“Okay, I’m here.” She pushed tentatively on the bedroom door, taking a step inside the second it swung open. “So why don’t we see if we can try to recreate some of those pictures...”
She froze dead still as the door swung shut behind her. It had only taken a second for her eyes to adjust to the light. For her to realize the obvious problem in the middle of the room. Her eyes widened and she took a step away, only to back herself unintentionally against the door.
“...who the hell are you?”
Chapter 26
The next few seconds happened in what felt like slow motion. The kind of frozen eternity that Lacy knew she would remember for the rest of her life.
The way the tea lights flickered and shook as a tall man walked out of the shadows. The way the door felt ice cold against her bare shoulder blades. The precise moment she realized that this man could easily overpower her. That she could no longer get out.
She pulled in a quiet gasp, then time sped back up again as a wave of fear rooted her to the floor. Her entire body was awash with it. Wetting her palms. Chilling her arms. Making her mouth so suddenly dry, she’d be surprised if she could speak a single word.
But as it turned out—she didn’t have to. She had asked the man a question.
“Not who you were expecting, I’m afraid.” He tilted his head with a charming smile as he took a step closer. “That’s a shame. I was so excited by our emails this morning.”
...our emails?
Lacy’s hands shook as an obvious piece of the puzzle fell into place. Of course—if he was the man standing in the hotel room, then he’d been the man who’d booked it. Who’d invited her. Who’d sent her all those aggressive messages that didn’t sound a thing like Logan.
Except...they were from Logan’s email address. The one she’d seen flash up across the screen of his phone, before he quickly ignored it. How the hell could this man have used it?
“Again—not what you were expecting to hear.” The man laughed as if he didn’t have a care in the world and settled on the edge of the bed. It was only then Lacy noted there were flower petals on there too—scattered around in the loose design of a heart. “That’s perfectly understandable, Lacy. I expected at least a bit of whiplash.”
Lacy. How does he know my name?
There was something unnervingly familiar about the way he said it. Something that sent chills running up and down her spine. There was a definite note of victory in it. A distinct air of pride. But there was a softness there as well. A tenderness that turned Lacy’s stomach.
“How do you know my name?” It was the first thing she had managed to say, but her voice shook and betrayed her. “Who are you?”
The man straightened up at once, extending a long hand. “Of course—how silly of me not to introduce myself. “My name is Peter Schilling. And I’ve been waiting a long time to formally meet you, Lacy.”
He spoke with the hint of a German accent. The kind that years of American education had failed to hide. But despite the general horror emanating from his every move, there was something vaguely familiar about him. And the name—Schilling? Hadn’t she heard that name somewhere before?
A little frown clouded across her eyes, and his smile widened. Every line on his face tightened with sudden intensity. Desperate for her to remember. Aching for her to figure it out.
But the answer was dancing just out of reach. Blurred by the surreal horror of finding herself suddenly so alone. Besides, there was another word that had caught her attention.
“Formally?” She tried to take another step back, then remembered that she was already up against the door. “What do you mean...formally meet me?”
Instead of answering, the man, Peter, only smiled. A second later, he stepped back—gesturing to the silver cart behind him. She hadn’t noticed it was there before.
“Would you care for something to drink? I have champagne, wine...?” He stepped back even further to reveal a little feast he’d assembled for the occasion. A sight that filled Lacy with an inexplicable feeling of dread. “Or if you’re hungry, there are oysters, chocolates, caviar, strawberries...whatever you like.”
Caviar and five hundred dollar champagne? What the hell is this?!
Peter’s eyes cooled for a moment, as he followed her gaze. “I know it may seem a bit over the top, but I had to keep up with your new boyfriend. Dylan-the-construction-worker wasn’t much of a threat, but now that I know who he really is?” He laughed shortly. “Well let’s just say that Logan Alexander Chase provides a bit more of a challenge.”
Lacy’s voice fell to a whisper—one she could hardly get out. “How do you even know about him? I only just found out myself—”
“I did my homework, Lacy. As you should have done.” Without another word, he circled around to the back of the cart—pouring two tall glasses of champagne. “After all, you were the one who taught me to always be prepared.”
Another chill shot through her body, as Lacy reached a secret hand behind her. The guy was huge and moved like he knew how to handle himself. If things got physical—she would be no match. But maybe, just maybe, if she could get back to the elevator—
“Champagne?”
She looked up with a gasp to see that he was standing right in front of her. His eyes locked onto hers with a wicked smile, as he held the flute in between them.
“It’s your favorite.”
For whatever reason, those words were the last straw. Instead of cowering against the door—a door she knew he was never going to let her open—she took a step forward, forcing him to take a step back. “My favorite? And how the hell would you know something like that?”
His smile faltered, but never quit. “I told you, Lacy. I do my—”
“—you do your homework. Yeah, you said.” She backed a few more steps away, circling around to the side of the bed. “But you never said how. How do you know my name? How did you get my boyfriend’s email address? And how the hell do you know my favorite champagne?”
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br /> It was easier to talk now that there was a little distance between them. Easier to breathe, and think, and get mad when he wasn’t standing right in front of her.
But he was quick to close that gap. And she was out of places to retreat.
“Think, Lacy.” His head tilted to the side as he gazed intently into her eyes. Again, she was struck by that strange feeling of déjà vu. “You already have the answers to those questions.”
Another flicker of fear trembled through her body, but she forced herself to look him in the eyes. Forced herself to remember what she wasn’t remembering. To connect the dots.
And just like that...it clicked.
The man she had run into at the coffee shop...the man who’d taken a picture of her and Logan at the lake...the same man to whom Logan gave his email address—requesting that a copy of the photograph be sent to him as well.
...but why?
Who was he? Why was he so interested? What did he mean about knowing her before?
A host of chills erupted in goosebumps on her arms, as Lacy finally put together the last piece of the puzzle. The man’s last name. Schilling.
“Alexandra Schilling,” she said under her breath. “The woman who hired me last year to expose her husband’s infidelity. That was you.”
Peter lifted his hands with a smile, applauding all by himself. “Well done! And here you’ve ruined so many lives, I was half-convinced you wouldn’t remember little old me!”
Lacy backed up until her legs hit one of the nightstands. The one without the phone.
“I wasn’t trying to ruin your life,” she said in a low murmur, trying desperately to come up with some kind of plan. “Your wife called me for help. I was just doing my job—”
“Ex-wife,” he corrected sharply. The air between them jumped about a thousand degrees, before he cooled it back down with an easy smile. “But that’s all in the past. It’s certainly not why I brought you here today, Lacy.”
Over the years, both Lacy and Sarah had been through a couple of close calls with the disgruntled former-partners of their clients. A threatening phone call. Dead roses delivered to the office. The occasional slashed tire. It was to be expected, given the incendiary nature of their work, although it never failed to scare them—every time.