by Petrova, Em
The sound of his cell phone ringing brought the conversation to a close. And their morning together. “So it begins.” Silencing the call then tucking his phone back in his pocket, he added, “Sometimes I wish we could go back to the pre-cell-phone days, when you couldn’t reach anyone until they came to the office on Monday.” He rose. “I have to go.”
Though disappointed he couldn’t stay a little longer, she’d had him mostly to herself for the better part of three days, and she had no right to pout. “That’s the life of a CEO? Always on call?”
“For my company, at least.”
She gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’ll walk you out.”
As they approached the door, he pulled her in for a kiss, but it wasn’t a quick see-you-later kind. Jordana took a couple steps back as he advanced for a hungrier taking, and she felt the hard wall on her back. His kisses became deeper, slower, and greedier, until he pulled the knot of her robe. With a low moan, he dipped his mouth to her neck, licking her earlobe.
Passion ignited in her blood, stunning her with its urgency since they’d just had sex an hour ago. He was never going to leave at this rate. Though she reveled in his attraction to her, she pushed at his chest until he pulled back.
“Logan, stop,” she said and then laughed on a breath. “You have to leave, remember?”
The rapacious look in his eyes transformed to normal. She knew the feeling. “I’m sorry,” he sighed.
“I don’t want to be responsible for keeping you away from your company any longer. Pretty soon, your board of directors will think I’m holding you hostage, expecting ransom.” He chuckled and came in for another kiss, but she smacked a palm on his lips. “Don’t start that again.”
He dropped his hold with reluctance. “Right. Glad one of us has some self-control. I’ll call you tonight. Unfortunately, I can already foresee a full schedule this week, which means not a likely chance for our lunch dates.”
“That’s okay. I’m getting a sick of you anyway.”
“Is that so? Well, I’ll just have to play harder to get.” He slowly grinned, tracing the back of his knuckles down her cheek. “At least there’s the Unchained benefit next Saturday. Be sure to dress to the nines.”
The reminder of all the prepping she needed to do extracted her from the sensual haze. “To the nines. Right. I’ll probably wear the dress you bought me in Vegas. Unless I can wear a sweatshirt and hot pants?” she added jokingly.
His eyes twinkled in amusement. “I would love to see you in some hot pants. Leopard print. With high heels.”
She pretended to be awed. “Ooh, sexy! I’ll need to go shopping for a couple more. Would you believe I gave all my haute couture designer dresses away to Goodwill last year?”
He chuckled. “I’ll make it easy for you and have Ashtyn schedule an appointment with a personal shopper at Saks Fifth Avenue. I have a line of credit there. All on me. And don’t argue—” he pointed at her as she opened her mouth to protest “—you won’t win.”
After he left, she shook her head. Who was she kidding? She was falling in love with Logan Savant.
***
One of Logan’s pet peeves was loud, long whistling through the company halls, but it didn’t seem so annoying when he did it himself as he exited the elevator to his office.
He whistled loud and without care, giving a casual nod and a salute to the receptionist, who just froze, blinking at him. He continued on with his tuneless song, one hand in his pocket, the other swinging his briefcase. When assistants and managers stopped to allow him uninterrupted passage down the corridor, he nodded at them while they exchanged furtive glances.
A few people poked their heads out with cross looks to see who was making all that noise when there was nothing to be cheery about. It was Monday morning, after all.
Indeed, it was, and what a beautiful day, Logan wanted to shout. He approached Ashtyn and greeted her as she smiled and handed him the morning reports. He ceased with the whistling when seconds after he sat down in his office, the intercom went off.
“It’s your mother on line one,” Ashtyn announced. “She’s been calling regularly. As in, every fifteen minutes.”
He frowned, not eager to spoil his morning already. “Inform her I’m in meetings all morning and that we’ll talk after lunch.”
“Yes, sir.”
A light rap came on his open door. It was Brad Morris, one of his senior managing directors, who led originations and asset management for land investments. “Mornin’.”
“Brad.” He nodded briefly. “Did you get the report for price-distressed assets for Hamilton I sent you?”
Morris held up the maroon folder in his hand. “I did.” He lingered in the doorway.
As Logan glanced over the P&L report, he made notes in the margins for the meeting at nine.
“Well,” Brad said as he flapped the folder against his thigh. “How was your weekend?”
Logan flicked him a glance, trying not to grin at the mention of the last three days. “It was good. Yours?”
Brad gave long, thoughtful nods. “Great. Just great.”
A little annoyed at this empty banter on a Monday morning, Logan raised his brows and pressed his lips together. “Nice to hear.”
“Yeah. I’ll catch up with you later.” Brad sauntered back to his office.
Not long after Brad departed, Ahn Li, his VP of Human Resources stuck her head in his doorway after a brief knock. When he gestured for her to come in, she sashayed into his office and propped a hip on the corner of his desk. “Bend your ear for a moment?”
The last thing he felt like doing was making any small talk with her; he was in beast-mode for work and still trying to review the P&L. “What can I do for you?” he asked distractedly.
“Just wanted to stop by and say hello. Haven’t seen you since last week,” she said with a hint of a smile in her voice. “What’s new with you?”
“Nothing’s new.”
“You were noticeably absent on Friday.”
He resisted the urge to sigh. When didn’t his absence go unnoticed? Never. “Yes, and now I have a mountain of work to do. We’ll have to chat later if there’s nothing work-related to share.”
Her pink lips curved before she smoothly made her exit. “Sounds good.”
What is with everybody today?
Throughout the rest of the morning, he had to deal with a few more people stopping in to “say hello” and ask how his weekend went. Had it been a normal occurrence over the years, he would have thought nothing of it, but now he was beginning to wonder if his whole company had the details of his weekend in Las Vegas and were fishing for details. As if it was anyone’s business but his own. The only person at Savant Financial Group who knew for sure was Ashtyn, but he trusted she would never reveal his personal schedule. Her loyalty, understanding of privacy, and aversion to gossip were just a few of the reasons she made such an outstanding executive assistant, and why, after four years, he felt grateful to have found her.
Neil knew, too, and although he had a tendency to blurt out inappropriate remarks and ask questions, he would never share Logan’s business either. Same thing went for his travel personnel: Tom and his pilot were both extremely discreet.
So what the hell was going on?
The meeting commenced at nine as always, and he was acutely aware of the curious stares around the table, but he refused to acknowledge any of them.
He had work to do. They had work to do.
Neil appeared at his doorway a few minutes before one o’clock. Logan shuffled some papers together then stood. “Should’ve called first. I’m up to my eyeballs. Can’t do lunch.”
Neil grinned, shaking his finger at him before closing the door. “Oh, yes, you can, you maniac.”
“What?”
His friend raised a brow, tucking his hands in his pockets. “How was the trip to Sin City? Exciting? Dare I ask…life-changing?”
Logan frowned. Not him, too. “What in God’s name is
happening around here? My weekend was fine. Did you tell anyone about that, by the way?”
“Of course not,” Neil answered with an insulted wince. “However, plenty of people might know about it now.”
“Apparently, and I don’t know why anyone cares.”
Neil snorted. “You don’t know why everyone cares that Logan Savant apparently got married?”
Chapter Twelve
A silent boom dropped. Logan jerked his gaze to Neil’s. “Come again?”
Neil studied him for a few beats then blew out a relieved breath. “I knew it wasn’t true.” Plopping down in a chair, Neil set his polished shoes on the desk corner and leaned back, hands intertwined on his stomach. “You should sit down. You look like you got hit with a hammer.”
Logan eased in his chair. “Did you just tell me that everyone thinks I got married this weekend?”
“That’s right, my friend.” Neil pulled out his cell phone. “I think we’ll call in for lunch today.”
“What the…how could…?” He threw up his hands. “Just because I went to Vegas, everyone thinks I eloped?”
Neil was already connected to one of the Italian bistros to deliver right away, simply giving Logan a shake of his head before ordering two specials-of-the-day. A minute later, he hung up and tucked his phone into his breast pocket. “It wasn’t an assumption just because you took a trip to Vegas with Miss Shaw. The rumor started because someone said they were there when you did it.”
Logan made a sound of derision, though this situation was anything but trivial. What a manufactured lie. Someone was spreading a rumor he’d eloped, and although it would easily prove to be false, he didn’t appreciate being the center of gossip. In fact, he hated nothing more. “Who could’ve possibly started something so ridiculous?” Now, now, a voice in the back of his mind reminded. Not that ridiculous. He and Jordana had been a fake married couple in Vegas, and somehow, it’d followed them home.
Neil shrugged. “I couldn’t find out the main source. That’s why I’m here. Thought you would know immediately.”
Who knew how far the rumor had circulated if it had already reached his company. Though he would put a stop to it at once, he resented the fact he’d have to spend even an ounce of energy doing so. He cared little of what people thought, but he knew even when the facts were straight, more conjecture would follow.
“When did you hear about this?” he asked, determined to find out as many details of the beginning so he could quickly get to the end.
“This morning. Miranda’s mom heard it last night. I’m surprised Miranda didn’t call you first.”
He couldn’t connect the link. “My phone has been ringing nonstop since yesterday. I’m sure Miranda’s backlogged in my missed calls somewhere.”
Without warning, the door swooshed open and Deidre Savant haughtily sailed in with her tailored white suit and commanding, diva presence. Even Neil was a little intimidated by her, jerking his feet off the desk and smoothing his tie as she approached Logan’s desk.
Ashtyn cast Logan an apologetic look, and he waved her off with an understanding nod before she closed the door.
No doubt, his mother had gotten wind of the rumor as well and came to battle with him on its accuracy. Literally. Battle.
“Logan.” She stopped, stuffing her clutch under an arm, standing with the erectness of a general. “I’m not one of those mothers who insists on calling her only child every day just to see if he’s still breathing. I give you space to live your own life, don’t I? I extend invitations that are warranted and don’t even expect you to accept half of them. In summary, I don’t command to know every excruciating detail of how you live your life.” Her voice began to rise in volume. “Be that as it may, I cannot abide you ignoring my calls with such a maddening disregard. Especially when you have done something as capricious and unfathomable as eloping with a woman no one has ever heard of!”
Like a whip had cracked through the air, Neil flinched, sent Logan an empathetic look, and silently excused himself.
“Mother, take a breath. And please sit down,” Logan directed with a calm tone.
She complied, her perfume clouding around him as she gracefully perched on the chair with an arched brow.
“First, I didn’t elope,” he said, taking a seat.
“Then why did you go to Las Vegas?”
“I went there to attend a wedding.”
“And the woman you took with you?”
“The bride was her sister. Other than standing in as a witness, I had no part in the vows.” For the moment, he wasn’t sure what label he should give Jordana. Especially to his mother, who had a hard time staying out of his personal business. A very hard time. She pretended she only wanted the best for him, but he knew it was just a form of control now that his father wasn’t around to bother.
His mother’s eyes closed in relief. “Oh, thank the Lord.”
“I don’t know how this got started—”
“Libby called me Saturday evening,” she cut him off, “shrilling in my ear that my son got married and wondered why on earth I wasn’t there and why she hadn’t been invited. In the end, she suspected you could only do something so outrageous without my knowledge.” Logan almost closed his eyes with regret while his mother went on. “When I demanded she explain, she said you were being introduced around the party as Mr. and Mrs. Savant. She hadn’t been sure at first she heard correctly, but the second time she had no doubt. That you allowed yourself to be introduced as a married couple and that the girl was wearing a wedding ring as well.”
He had completely forgotten his run-in with Libby. She must have overheard the Redgraves introduce him and Jordana to their friends. No wonder she gave him such a look and remarked about being out of the loop: she thought he had gotten married in secret.
Damn shame she didn’t simply ask him before calling his mother and who knew how many others. It would have saved him this crapstorm. Looks like he was paying the price for his winsome charade.
His mother would never comprehend why he’d think it would be amusing to pretend to be married, so he added, “Well, somehow, the rumor evolved that she was actually there to see me get married, so now I know how twisted gossip can really get in forty-eight hours. For Pete’s sake, Mom. I can’t believe you gave Libby’s story any validation without talking to me. Do you think I would casually decide to get married out of nowhere? Libby was mistaken, that’s all.”
“Hmm. She can be a bit of a scatterbrain, especially when she drinks champagne. In any case, she said you looked completely enamored of the girl,” his mother mused, her eyes slitting with cold questioning. “Who is she?”
One would think his mother would be overjoyed to hear he was interested in someone new, since girlfriends were few and far between these past couple years and she longed for a grand wedding and a grandchild.
But not Deidre Savant.
First, she had to know name, background, and social value. Aggravating as shit. “All you need to know is that she’s…she’s…” His mind drifted off with his gaze as he thought of a litany of expressive words to describe the woman who had him whistling this morning. Nonetheless, this was his mother he was talking to. “She’s great. She works in medicine and has a talent for creative writing. You’d like her.”
Her blank stare and the hollow noise coming from her throat said otherwise. “Let me decide if I like her. What’s her name?”
“Jordana.”
“Jordana what?”
“Why do you need her last name? So you can run a credit check?”
“Don’t be snide. I don’t understand why you won’t tell me. Is she a wanted criminal?” At his look of reproach, she added, “Well then, I think it’s strange to reduce her to a first name. Must not be that special to you.”
“Jordana Shaw,” he clipped.
She brightened. “Relation to Mitchell Shaw? The shipping magnate?”
“No relation.” He was definitely done with this conversation,
and he knew just how to bring it to a screeching halt. “Have you talked to Dad lately?”
As he hoped, Deidre pushed up from her seat with a deep inhalation, and then exhaled long, as if finding the strength to stand the mention of her ex-husband. “No. Last I heard, your father was seeing a girl twenty years his junior from Laguna Beach. Not that I pay attention to his never-ending succession of playthings. Everyone always assumes I want to hear it. Whatever gives them that idea, I haven’t the faintest.” She bent over and brushed a kiss to his cheek before leaving his office. “I’ll see you at Marguerite’s party.”
As she walked out, Neil came in, carrying the lunch and arranging it on his desk. The smell of marinara and garlic filled Logan’s office. “You need sustenance.”
Logan rose from his chair. “I need scotch.”
***
“Do you think your stud would mind if we threw in a pair of Tom Ford loafers for me?” Jordana’s best guy friend, Casey, asked, admiring the polished brown shoes on his feet.
Jordana sent an amused, chiding look to him as she pulled on her boots. She’d just spent two hours trying on what felt like a hundred different dresses at Saks Fifth Avenue with a personal shopper. She’d balked at the thought of going solo and invited Casey. Who better than her good friend and neighbor for company? Her fun, fashion-forward pal hadn’t hesitated to join her on this paid-for venture.
“Casey, as much as I love you, you can’t charge thousand dollar shoes to this already outrageous bill.”
“They’re on sale for six hundred,” he argued with a pout then winked at her. “That’s a bargain.”
And nothing she’d bought came close to a bargain. According to Ashtyn, Logan had instructed she buy a dress for each of the parties they were to attend and the shoes and whatever accessories she needed to go with them. She only required three, since she could wear the dress he’d bought her in Vegas again. Jordana wasn’t entirely comfortable with him footing the bill, but he’d insisted.
She couldn’t afford to buy more than one designer dress on her own, and it wasn’t as if she could purchase anything from her usual stores. However, she still wasn’t going to allow him to pay for all of it. Though no millionaire, she had a decent sum in her checking account. Plus, Adam had just paid her back the money she’d loaned him—he and Lucee actually won a few thousand at the craps table in Vegas, not lost as she’d feared—so she had plenty of room to pay her credit card.