by Flynn, Poppy
Luanna dug in her purse for change and walked back to work in a bit of a daze. With everything that had happened, she hadn't even warned Logan about this. She had expected Charlotte to let her know the publication date, and she had planned to tell him then. Things had been so strained, their conversations so stilted, that there hadn't seemed like a good time to discuss the fact that she'd allowed Charlotte to put her Shibari photos into print, even if they were all deliberately anonymous. In truth, she thought Logan would get a bit of a charge from it. He'd always wanted to get these pictures out there. What better way than in a mainstream, national magazine.
She found him pacing her office when she got back in. He looked a bit pissed. "Sorry, were we supposed to meet up for lunch?" She frowned. "I thought you had something on."
He swung around, a scowl on his face. Okay, more than a bit pissed. "I'm sorry," she said with a shrug, wracking her brains for their lunch arrangements. "I must have gotten the days wrong."
"No," he snapped harshly. "We didn't have plans. Something else came up. It's caused considerable disruption to my time."
"And this is my fault?" she hedged, trying not to let her irritation get the better of her at his high-handedness.
"I'd say so," he bit out coldly, "since my day has been inundated by club members contacting me about magazine photos."
"I was just about to come and tell you about that," she said excitedly, automatic pleasure blooming, now that she'd had time to get over her initial surprise. "I didn't know it was coming out. I expected Charlotte to give me the heads up, at least, so I could let you know in advance. I only picked up one copy." She waved in it front of her. "I should have thought! The vendor said they're selling like hotcakes. I haven't even had a chance to look at it yet, although, obviously, I know what it says, but it's different seeing it in actual print."
"Stop babbling, Luanna!" he bit out, taking a jerky step towards her, fists clenched at his sides in such a manner that he had her stepping back. Babbling?
He encroached on her in a way that was almost menacing, but this time, she held her ground, refusing to be intimidated. What the hell was eating him, anyway? Was this about her not mentioning that she'd agreed to let Charlotte use a couple of her photos, because, if it was, then he was a damn hypocrite.
"I beg your pardon?" she said coolly, narrowing her eyes in warning.
Not that Logan took any notice. He stalked towards her, closing the distance between them like the predatory big cat she always likened him to. Except, right now, he seemed positively dangerous, and that was not something she'd ever thought of him before.
A trickle of apprehension skittered down her spine, and she had a lightning flash of painful memory—of James crushing her young heart and tossing her and their baby away like they were nothing. Unimportant. An irritation to be dispensed with. She'd never thought him capable of that, either.
"What on earth is wrong with you, Logan?" she demanded, the hint of unease so clear in her voice that she silently cursed the weakness.
He didn't reply, so she continued. "You know I actually thought you'd be happy!" she continued defensively. "All those apparently heartfelt conversations about how shooting this Shibari series was your big dream—to share them with the world and show everyone the beauty and the spectacle of the 'art'." Sarcasm dripped viciously through her words. "I thought I was giving you something special, a surprise. But you're not happy, are you? And I can't even work out why!" This time, there was a tinge of real sadness to her voice as the heat slipped out of it, which she couldn't manage to hide. She wasn't sure if she even wanted to. The air was thick with explosive premonition, but Luanna didn't need intuition to know that they were slipping inexorably towards the end.
"Happy!" Logan exploded. "Why in hell's name would I be happy to find out that somebody I trusted has fucked me over?" he spat. "But, hey, sure, you're right about the bloody surprise. My bad, I guess, I should have known that someone as destitute as you would be all in when it comes to making a quick buck off of somebody else's back."
Luanna felt the barb like it was a body blow. She sucked in a breath and bit her lip to stop the quiver in it and blinked rapidly to beat back the tears she could feel stinging at the back of her eyes. She knew her colour was up, her face bright with embarrassment. She may not have much to her name, but she had pride if nothing else.
She held her ground as Logan heaved forward. Her eyes closed instinctively, but she felt the magazine being wrenched from her fingers and opened her eyes in surprise as she heard it thud against the far wall.
She felt the ice sliding through her veins, was completely conscious of drawing in on herself as if it was an almost physical thing. It was a defence mechanism that was second nature to her. She didn't shout or argue or beg. She never would, ever again. Not for any man. If she wasn't good enough for him the way she was, then she was better off without him, and as much as she truly loved Logan, she'd had enough. Sometimes, in life, you simply had to know when it was time to retreat. And for her—for them—that was right now.
"Trust?" She laughed derisively. "You never trusted me, Logan. You proved it time and time again. Right now, I can't even work out why I allowed you to keep making a fool of me over and over."
"So, this is what? Payback?" he jeered. "They're not even yours!" he thundered. "Copyright law is very clear that all images are the property of the photographer unless they have been purchased by the subject. So, you didn't even have any right to make money off of something that is mine!"
And the blows just kept on coming. Luanna walked carefully across to her desk on wobbly legs, deliberately turning away from Logan so he couldn't witness the devastation that she knew was written all over her face.
She dug blindly in her desk drawer for the package of photographs that she had placed there, the careful choices she had made, ready to give to Logan to have mounted and framed as he had promised. Her fingers shook as she grasped them, and shame washed through her at what she had allowed. He had taken something beautiful and destroyed it for her. She barely even wanted to touch them now.
"So, you've already made up for mind that this is all about a little bit of money, have you?" It wasn't really a question.
His amber eyes flashed fire. "It's fairly fucking obvious, isn't it? Even I don't think you colluded with Charlotte with the intention of simply causing trouble. It wouldn't be your style. Even though the damn gutter press will try and bloody ruin me. Ruin all of us."
"Well, I won't waste my breath trying to persuade you otherwise. If you think all that of me, then there's really no point," she said quietly, praying her voice didn't break with the weight of the anguish she was feeling. "Although it's pretty clear that you haven't bothered to read the article. As a lawyer, I'm surprised you didn't check your facts before you started casting aspersions." Her voice wobbled, and that annoyed her enough to make her rash and uncharacteristically impulsive.
"Well, you should really keep all these, since I'm obviously just 'insignificant subject matter'." And almost before she knew what she was about to do, the package of photographs went flying across the room, missing Logan's head only because he reared backwards but hitting him square in the chest, splitting the wrapper before they fell to the ground and scattered all over the floor. But still, her voice never rose, despite her actions.
"It's also very clear that my own judgement is clearly inconsequential, as far as supporting the article Charlotte wrote. You don't even know what it says, but you're prepared to think the worst and hang me accordingly."
With an outward calm that was far at odds with the seething, sick feeling roiling in her stomach, Luanna picked up her purse. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm leaving. I'll call in to HR and tell them I'm taking the rest of the day off sick. Because I am—sick of you and the rest of you south coast management idiots." She didn't wait for a response, didn't think she could manage to pull off 'indifferent'—or at least an attempt at it—for very much longer without completely breaking
down. Instead of giving him the satisfaction, she simply walked out.
* * *
"How the hell did you allow this to happen?" Jake demanded of Logan when he got back to his office. He was waving a rolled-up copy of the same glossy, highly reputable magazine that Luanna had tried to show him, earlier, the one he had ripped from her fingers and flung across the room like some kind of yob.
The cover shot showed a beautifully tasteful—though admittedly anonymous—photograph of Blackwood's East Coast Finance Manager in an artistic but modest Shibari binding, along with the promise of a long awaited, inside scoop on the BDSM lifestyle.
"The photograph doesn't show her face," Logan stated tightly. "Neither do any of the others with the article, and there are no credits given to identify either the model or the photographer, so it can't be traced back to the company or linked to any of us."
"I don't give a flying toss about any of that, right now. What I want to know is how in God's name this managed to go to press, in the first place!" Jake bellowed.
What he'd failed to notice was that Logan was almost as highly strung as he, himself, at that moment; he just had a tighter grip on his control.
"Then maybe you should give it some thought, instead of wallowing in your own self-absorbed, egotistical little world and realise that it's not always all about you!" Logan yelled back with uncharacteristic temper, which bought Connor up short, if not Jake.
"It's your rope work, and you took the photos," Connor, at least, acknowledged Logan's own precarious position in this predicament.
Logan nodded shortly, though it hadn't really been a question. They were all familiar with the pictures in question.
"Then you must be out for blood, just as badly as I am," Jake snarled. "So, get Luanna up here, I'm sure we can fire her for bringing the company into disrepute or something."
"I've already spoken to Luanna," Logan retorted, his voice vibrating with latent anger, which Jake mistook as being directed at his bondage model.
"And?" Connor asked carefully, realising that there was more going on here than righteous indignation but not quite sure what.
"And I very carelessly pointed out to her that as the photographer, all rights to those pictures belonged to me and not the model," he gritted out between clenched teeth and equally clenched fists.
"Perfect!" Jake crowed. "So we can indict Luanna Morgan on charges of misappropriation as well as acts against the company, at the same time as we go after Charlotte Chapman. Can we use that on her, too?"
Jake was too wound up to notice the rage that bubbled so close to Logan's usually calm surface. But Connor wasn't quite so oblivious. He could see that Logan was about to blow and probably take his anger out pretty physically on Jake if he didn't divert the situation.
Connor had also focussed on a different fragment of Logan's words and turned to the lawyer with narrowed eyes. "Why careless?"
"Because anyone with even a basic legal understanding makes sure they know all the facts before they take any kind of rash action," Logan growled.
Connor frowned, his confusion evident. "What did she say?"
"She told me that I clearly hadn't bothered to read the article and that I should do so before I started casting aspersions."
"What else?" Connor prompted, knowing there was more.
"And then she threw the entire series of photographs that I had given her straight back in my face and told me that I should keep them all, since she was obviously just 'insignificant subject matter' and her judgement was clearly inconsequential." Logan had winced at his own memory. "And then she picked up her purse and walked out. She called into HR that she was taking a sick day. When they asked what she was sick with, she told them she was sick of the 'south coast management idiots.' She'll probably get a mark on her permanent record for that."
"Sod a mark on her permanent record," Jake had retorted. "I want her fucking fired!"
Logan took a step towards Jake, ready to take a swing at anyone who dared speak about his woman that way, even his closest friend. Connor clamped a preventive hand on Logan's shoulder, ready to step in physically if he had to.
That was when Desi stormed in.
"Well, none of you 'south coast management idiots' is compromising any more of my staff!" she thundered, without so much as a 'hello', barrelling through the door so hard that it slammed against the wall.
Joel followed behind her, looking suitably alarmed and sensibly saying nothing.
"I've only been gone a few weeks, and already, you lot have managed to trash my entire department," Desi raged, hands on her curvy hips and eyes blazing.
"I haven't had anything to do with the mess in your department," Jake stated imprudently. "In fact, I'm the one who's been trying to piece it back together."
"I just heard you threatening to fire my finance manager," Desi retorted, wheeling around to confront Jake, head on.
"Yeah, but I couldn't, could I, because she already walked out?" Jake goaded, glaring at the diminutive woman who had just placed herself unwisely, but firmly, in his very angry path.
"Of course, you did something even worse, didn't you?" Desi accused, stabbing a finger into his chest as she got as far in his face as she could manage, given her stature.
"You ran off my best friend." She stabbed her finger again and then again.
"You started some small-minded persecution campaign against a woman who didn't deserve it and intimidated her so much that she's gone into hiding.
"Like hell, she didn't deserve it!" Jake had spat back at her. "She deserves every last little thing I can think of to throw at her and more, and so does Luanna Morgan!"
"No, Jake." Desi curled the fingers that had poked him into a fist and pounded his chest with that, instead. "You're just jumping at shadows that aren't there, making assumptions that are based on your shitty past experiences. Take the advice Luanna gave to Logan—read the damn article!" Desi slapped a printed sheaf of A4 copy paper into his stomach.
"What's this?" he asked, snatching away the offending object before she could start whacking him with that, as well.
"It's a print out of an e-mail Charlotte sent me a couple of weeks ago, asking my opinion on whether she should publish a helpful and progressive article about D/s and BDSM, in the hope of getting your precious club—not that she knew it was yours, at the time, of course—out of the clutches of the nasty gutter press, by blowing the myths out of the water and concentrating on a positive and constructive narrative revolving around the ideals of consent, care and mutual respect as the core values of those committed to the lifestyle. She talked Luanna into allowing a couple of the Shibari photos to support it, to show the skill and artistry involved and to prove it wasn't all whips and handcuffs," Desi enlightened, her voice raising with each sentence and her eyes resting for a few seconds on each man in the room.
"She didn't have to fight very hard to persuade Luanna, because she understood the value of the article. She knew what Logan had been going through, and she, too, thought it was a clever idea. Although, she took the sensible precaution of insisting on proofreading the final copy, in return for her cooperation." Desi's eyes bored into Logan's as his heart dropped into his stomach and nausea swirled around the lump it left there.
"Here's a copy of the original, rough transcript, too. It's a damn masterpiece—but you, of course, didn't bother to find that out before you started planning your own little revenge party, did you Jake?" she accused. "And neither did you, Logan, before you started slinging your accusations at my staff."
Logan screwed up his eyes and rubbed his hands across his face. What the hell had he done? Memories of the harsh words he had fired at Luanna bombarded his memory. The look on her face, the shame, the quiet humiliation and the sadness finally rounded off with a forlorn acceptance before she'd wrapped her pride and serenity around herself and walked away from him. He barely followed the rest of Desi's diatribe about Charlotte's disappearance, her property deserted and dust-sheeted, the phones disc
onnected, and e-mail account deleted.
He hardly listened when she demanded a full list of written grievances from Connor, despite the legal implications that he would need to act on, but he jolted sharply at Desi's final words to all of them.
"Since I still retain seniority within this branch, I strongly suggest that you three all go back to the head office, while I pick up the pieces of the many lives you have shattered and try to glue them back together."
With that, Desi had marched towards the door, but as she crossed the threshold, she turned back and glared at the three of them. "And don't hurry back!" she had uttered coldly.
Logan hurried after her. "Desi!" he implored. "I can't do that. I need to see Luanna. I need to sort things out with her."
"No!" Desi shot back, and she might as well have shot him, too, the hurt tore at him so badly. "Enough is enough, and I am drawing the line right here. We'll be lucky enough if there aren't any damn lawsuits after the way you lot have behaved. We're running a company here, not a goddamn bitching crib. Jeez! You, of all people, I expected to know better!"
Logan winced at her tirade.
"If Luanna Morgan decides to file a complaint against you, how the heck are we supposed to deal with that, when you're the damn lawyer? Think about that for a flippin' headline, if you're worried about the paparazzi getting hold of a story!" Desi blazed, still walking at a fast clip that made it difficult to discuss anything. "I'm sorry, Logan, but this is damage control now, and you need to be as far away from this as possible. If Luanna wants to speak to you, then that's up to her, but you are not to contact her, yourself. I've already had HR nipping at my heels as soon as I walked through the bloody door. Nice welcome back for me, by the way," she snarked scathingly. "The directive is that the three of you ship off back to the head office, and you don't return unless there's an emergency or a case to answer. You should consider yourselves lucky that you're top brass. Anyone else would be out on their ear, so I'd advise you not to push it. No one's irreplaceable!"