Recharged

by Lulu Pratt

  For the first time, he’s completely mine, giving me all his attention, and it feels amazing. Hearing him profess his love makes me feel like the most beautiful woman alive, and feeling equally as captivated, if not more, only intensifies the feeling.

  The vacation is like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I can’t wrap my head around how I could possibly be so lucky to be loved by a man as special and powerful as him.

  Logan’s words are impactful, resonating deep in my soul, but it’s his actions which truly show me how much he loves me. Logan is constantly thinking of me, making sure everything is to my liking. It’s his care and attention to detail that make me certain of his affection.

  Every night, and every morning, we bring each other to climaxes out of this world until neither of us can take any more pleasure. It’s unbelievable how easily we’re able to turn each other on, with a seemingly endless supply of seduction.

  By the time we prepare for departure, we’ve only unpacked our toiletries, spending most of our time wearing only the robes given to us in the suite. There’s no need for clothes, we even swim naked, constantly admiring and appreciating each other’s body.

  When we board the private plane to go home, I feel intertwined with him, even when he’s physically away, forcing Rodrick to give him a rapid update on what he’s missed so that he can get back to me as soon as possible.

  A stranger would undoubtedly mistake us for two lovers on a honeymoon from the way we are all over each other, kissing and doting on one another without pause. I’ve never felt more loved in my life, and I’ve never even known I could love someone this strongly.

  Chapter 32

  Ava

  Fresh off our romantic excursion, life feels like a cloud, although my home now feels like a strange place, filled with secrets.

  Petra isn’t home when I first return, so I quickly sneak into her room to enact my plan to return the jewelry she stole from Logan. Digging to the bottom of her lingerie drawer, my hand feels nothing but soft fabrics, and my heart begins to race as my strategy slips through my fingers as delicately as her lace undergarments.

  Eventually, I pick up the fabrics, squeezing and roughly dismantling her drawer to find the brooch, but I find nothing. It’s gone, and there’s no way I can fix this without coming clean.

  In the back of my mind, I want to just tell Logan the truth – give him the opportunity to forgive me while clearing my conscience of the guilt. But there’s still the loyalty I feel for Petra, despite the distance between us.

  I can’t just throw her under the bus, and without any other option, I decide I must resort to my normal tactic – avoidance.

  The idea of facing Logan fills me with anxiety, as I envision myself crumbling before his deep stares, confessing to everything as I know I need to.

  My first night back in LA is a long and tireless one as I dread not being able to see or speak to Logan after such a perfect time together.

  We’ve only just professed our love, and now I must ruin it all to avoid the inevitable collapse. Knowing there’s no way for us to continue a relationship after what Petra’s done, I’d rather pretend nothing happened than to confront the truth.

  The first day at work goes by quickly because I have so much to catch up on. Throwing myself into work, as I begin to reschedule my clients after clearing my calendar to accommodate Logan I’m overwhelmed with things to do as I put my life back together. Logan doesn’t call until after lunch, and I have Melanie take a message.

  By the end of the day, I have two messages from Logan, so I text him telling him I’m tired and will call him the next day. I can sense his agitation in the reply, but thankfully he doesn’t push it further.

  The second day is less smooth as my thoughts constantly drift to Logan, missing everything about him as I crave just the sound of his voice. When he calls, it takes all my will power to instruct Melanie to take a message, and she’s sure to tell me he did not seem happy about it.

  Guilt riddles me to the point of depression when I ignore him again, even choosing not to respond to his text message requests for me to answer his calls.

  My mind is cluttered trying to find a way out of the dilemma, but I can’t seem to think of anything.

  Luckily, Petra and I are back on speaking terms. If I come right out and ask her, I fear she’ll just deny it, which will only make things worse. Once she knows I know, I can’t be sure how she’ll go about hiding or lying to cover her tracks.

  It’s a conundrum, and by the third day, my nerves are rattled so much I can’t even focus at work.

  “He’s already called four times,” Melanie tells me as I sit with Petra in the waiting area of our office.

  My appointments don’t begin for another few days, but Petra has a client coming in soon. With so much missed time during my vacation, we’ve decided to discuss the finances during her short break.

  “We’re looking great for this quarter, but you do know you never billed Logan for anything, right?” Petra asks nervously, knowing how sensitive of a topic it is.

  We haven’t discussed my relationship with him in detail, but I did share how I disliked her response to my discovery of his manipulation. She understood and agreed it was a bit harsh to think there was nothing I could offer him.

  While I never did tell her who I traveled with, or even where my trip was, I’m pretty sure she knows I went with Logan. There’s a weirdness between us, like something has shifted in our friendship, but I can’t be sure if it’s just on my part because I know about her secret.

  “Ava,” Logan’s voice is strong and booming as the door to our practice slams behind him, startling everyone in the office.

  Melanie jumps to her feet, and Petra looks like she’s seen a ghost. Everything feels to be moving in slow motion as I look from one of them to the other before turning to face Logan.

  He squints at Petra, eyeing her like he sees something before turning his eyes to me. There are bags beneath his blue eyes, it looks like he hasn’t slept in days and my heart hurts to see him this way.

  “Can I talk to you, Ava?”

  “Yes,” I whisper, turning to lead him to my office.

  Walking straight to my desk, I fidget with the cup of pens sitting at the corner of the large piece of furniture I just had to have when we first got the lease for this office.

  “What’s going on, Ava baby?” His voice is soft and concerned now, his body nearing me as I crumble inside, desperate to tell him everything.

  I can’t stand to be away from him or continue to put this space between us. Choosing to just tell the truth, I take a deep breath, knowing this could be the end of us.

  “I am just struggling with something. I don’t know how to tell you, but I feel like I must. Honestly, it has nothing to do with you, or at least not me and you. Well, I didn’t know it did, but maybe it does.” My words are a scrambled mess. I cover my eyes as I hear myself make no sense.

  Taking me into his arms, Logan squeezes me, burying his face in my hair as he inhales deeply.

  “I just… Logan, I…” The words refuse to form sentences and I just don’t know how to tell him about my deep betrayal, or that of Petra.

  “Shh,” he rubs my back, his arms draped over me as my protection.

  “I just didn’t know how to face you with this mess in my head. My business is overwhelming, taking on new clients, me and Petra are trying to work through the changes since I’ve been gone, and I have to figure out something,” I allude to my real issue last, focusing more on mundane tasks that are the least of my worries.

  “I understand you’re stressed and you have some things to figure out. You can tell me on your own time, I trust you to do that, but you can’t just cut me out. That’s not fair,” he says and I nod in agreement, understanding just how hurtful my behavior has been.

  “It’s like a roller coaster with you, Ava. Is it because I told you I love you?”

  I quickly shut that down.

  “No, Logan. I love you too
, it’s not that at all. It’s more of a personal issue between me and Petra.” I wonder if I’ve said too much when his eyes light up with curiosity.

  “Was that her name? The girl you were with out there?” He points his thumb to the door and I can see the wheels in his brain turning, though I’m not sure what about.

  “Yeah, she’s my business partner and roommate.” I refer to her as if she’s nothing more than a acquaintance for the first time in our friendship, and I realize that may be what we’ve become.

  Despite our deteriorating friendship, I still find it impossible to betray her, failing to reveal to Logan what I know she’s done. That leaves me in the middle, knowing the person who has caused him such hurt without letting him know the truth.

  “Ava, I’ve been going sick with worry. Wondering what happened,” he whispers into my hair, and my stomach drops at the pain in his voice.

  “Me too.”

  Sleep has evaded me since I returned to LA, choosing instead to spend the dark hours of the night replaying the wonderful time I had with Logan abroad. The reality of the situation is so much for me to bear – I thought avoiding it would be easy, but it turned out to be psychological torture, and now I’m learning I wasn’t the only victim of my madness.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “I’m not mad, I just want to know we’re okay. I didn’t expect to come back and deal with this after the way we were in Fiji.”

  “Neither did I. I wish we could just live in that fantastical space all the time,” I sigh, looking up to him.

  “We can, you just have to let me in. Don’t close me out, Ava. I haven’t been able to get shit done thinking you were mad at me, but I couldn’t even imagine how I fucked up.” He shakes his head and I can see the mental anguish he’s been going through laced through his eyes.

  “You didn’t do anything, baby. And watch your mouth,” I tease him gently.

  With one palm on each of my cheeks, he pulls my face to his, softly pressing his lips against mine as he kisses me gently. Leaning up on my toes, I deepen the kiss with my tongue, and he breathes deeply, releasing the built-up stress I’ve caused.

  “I love you,” I whisper on his lips when he ends the embrace. His eyes close at my declaration and his forehead presses to mine.

  “I love you too much, Ava.”

  “You could never love me too much,” I assure him.

  “Yes, I can, because you drive me fucking crazy,” he chuckles and I giggle watching him unravel with pent-up confusion.

  “Watch your mouth,” I whisper seductively in his ear, alluding to the times he’s said those same words to me as our bodies tangle in bed together.

  “I have to get back to the office. I’ll punish you for all of this later,” he smirks, raising one eyebrow, before turning to lead us out of my office.

  “Where’s Petra?” I ask Melanie after seeing Logan out.

  “She left when Mr. Draper came in,” she whispers, trying not to alarm Petra’s client, who now sits in the waiting room.

  “Tell her to come and see me when she gets back,” I say before returning to my office.

  Petra had a strange look on her face when Logan came in, a mix of fear and guilt. The guilt I understand, but what would she have to be afraid of? It’s not like Logan would be able to recognize her as the thief, because he’s made it clear that he doesn’t know who stole from him.

  On the other hand, he did look at her oddly. And when I said her name, a lightbulb went off for him. It’s all so weird, like the answer is right before me, I just need one missing piece to finish the puzzle.

  Is it possible for the two of them to know each other? Petra did have strong feelings regarding Logan and his character, but could it be from personal experience? My heart races at the possibilities while my brain works in overdrive to develop a plan to get to the bottom of this mystery.

  Chapter 33

  Ava

  It’s my first time in Logan’s home since the night I met him, and everything seems so much different after all that’s happened between us.

  While the house is still architecturally stunning, my thoughts about it as someone in love with the person who lives here are much different than one of a detached party goer.

  That night, everything was decorated with party décor, and he’s explained that a large portion of his furniture was removed to make way for the hundreds of guests.

  Walking around, it’s difficult for me to see Logan living in a place like this. Just as I remembered, it feels more like a gallery than a home, but that doesn’t take away from the exquisite taste in artwork scattered throughout the space which still captures my attention.

  “Want some wine?” Logan asks as we make it to the kitchen area.

  “Yes please, and a tour,” I request, excited to see where he lives.

  “A tour?”

  “Yeah, I want to see where you live.”

  He chuckles while filling two glasses with red wine. “Well, this isn’t technically where I live,” he admits, looking around at the humongous home.

  “No?” I frown and he laughs softly before pinching the tip of my nose as he pushes a glass to me.

  “No, but this is where we met, so I guess I thought it was romantic.” He shrugs before adding, “Plus it’s got a great view.”

  That’s no exaggeration, because from the kitchen there’s a far wall, which displays floor to ceiling windows and from here I can see the entire city lit up from the vantage point of his backyard.

  “Is that a pool?” I ask, squinting.

  “Yep. Wanna go swimming?” He smirks, and without a word, I’m sure he’s thinking of our naked evenings in our private pool in Fiji.

  “Tempting,” I say, as if I’m pondering the suggestion, and we both laugh before Logan walks me around his home.

  “I have a couple of places in the city. Normally, I stay in a condo near the office, really just to be close,” he shrugs, showing me his game room, which includes a pool table, a ping pong table, a glass chessboard placed on a small desk, with leather seats on either side, as well as a large bookshelf that lines the furthest wall filled with modern books.

  “Do you play?” I point to the pool table.

  “Yeah, but I’m too good at that. We can play ping pong if you want,” he points to the green table.

  “Oh, you’re too good?” I laugh at his arrogance and he shrugs with feigned sympathy.

  “Come on, I have to hurry up, because dinner’s almost ready,” he rushes me, glancing at his watch.

  “You cooked for me?” I ask. I brighten at the idea of him preparing for our evening together.

  “Kind of,” he grins, turning the lights out as he leads me into the next room.

  By the end of the tour, I’ve seen four bedrooms, two bathrooms, an office, the game room, a private library, a living room, a family room, and the dining room, before we head back to the kitchen.

  “Why do you need all this space?” I ask, settling onto the bar stool while he opens the oven.

  “I don’t. That’s why I stay at the condo,” he chuckles, slipping on an oven mitt before pulling the large tray from the oven and clumsily dropping it onto the stovetop.

  “So why didn’t you take me to the condo if that’s where you live?”

  “I told you – it was supposed to be romantic, since I met you here. Plus, the condo is really small. You’ll see all the places, though,” he says nonchalantly, moving from cabinet to cabinet as he searches for plates.

  “Do you know where your things are?”

  “I don’t typically do this part. I’m trying to be a gentleman, if you haven’t noticed.” He cuts into a lasagna that looks incredible.

  “How can I help?” I ask, resting my hands on my hips while standing in the middle of his kitchen, which is twice the size of my bedroom.

  “In the fridge, there’s a bowl of salad and a small container of chopped parsley. Can you get them?”

  Nodding, I do exactly as he says. T
o my surprise the refrigerator is fully stocked with beverages and vegetables.

  “For someone who doesn’t stay here, you have a lot of food,” I look back to him while grabbing the salad and parsley.

  “I told my cleaning lady to make it look like I lived here,” he smirks at me.

  “Are you serious?” I ask, rising on my tiptoes to grab bowls from his cabinet.

  “Well, I didn’t expect the third-degree investigation, so I didn’t plan on telling you I rarely come here,” he explains, sprinkling freshly chopped parsley on both of our plates before stepping back to admire his work.

  “If you don’t need this much space, and you rarely stay here, why keep it?” I ask after filling our salad bowls.

  “It was my first big piece of real estate, so I’m a bit sentimental,” he admits, and although he doesn’t mention it, I know his grandmother plays a role in his memory from the look in his eyes.

  “Well, it’s a beautiful home. I really like it.” I try to cheer him up, and he smiles like it’s working.

  “Ready?” he asks, holding two plates.

  “Yes, sir,” I follow him to the bar stools with the two bowls of salad.

  Logan glances over at the dining table before opting to sit at the breakfast bar. It’s sweet seeing him try to prepare this night for us. It’s been a great couple of days since he showed up to my office, and it feels like we’re back on our lovey-dovey track for the first time since returning from Fiji.

  “This is amazing,” I say, surprised by how well he can cook. It’s the best lasagna I’ve ever had.

  “Thank you,” he grins.

  “How long did it take you to do all this?” I ask, taking another bite.

  “Forty-five minutes.”

  “How? You made lasagna and salad in forty-five minutes?”

  “No, the salad was already done, and the lasagna had to go in the oven for forty-five minutes,” he explains, taking a bite of his lasagna with a smirk.

  “You didn’t make this?”

  “Hell no! I can’t boil water, but I used that oven for the first time tonight,” he says as he smiles at me.