by Layla Nash
Nine
I woke as the door opened, and my hand tightened around the phone Logan left. I lifted my head, then exhaled as I saw him creep through the door and lock it behind him. He smiled sheepishly. "Sorry to wake you. How do you feel?"
"Terrible." I buried my face in the pillow. "Everything hurts."
He took his shoes off near the door and approached, digging something else out of the duffel bag before sitting on the mattress next to my hips. He rattled another bottle of pills. "Half of one?"
I tried to sit and the breath hissed in my teeth as my shoulder and back objected. I took the half white pill he handed me, gulping it down before I tried to wiggle out of bed. "I should go —" and I trailed off, looking at the bathroom door but not wanting to announce that all the coffee I'd had before the incident was coming back to haunt me.
Logan immediately picked me up and carried me the twenty feet to the bathroom, and I laughed. "I can walk, thank you."
"Not if I'm here," he said, putting me on my feet and opening the door for me. "I don't want you to fall or trip or bump yourself."
I shook my head and hobbled through the disaster of wet clothes and towels in the bathroom to take care of business. He stood at the front door, talking to someone, when I limped back out. Carter leaned around his brother and looked at me a little mournfully. "Hi Natalia. Are you okay?"
My chest constricted. The feeling of Joey's arm against my throat, choking me, rushed back, and I froze. I struggled to smile, hugging myself. "Yeah. Thanks for asking, Carter."
Logan almost closed the door in his face as he returned to help me back to bed.
I tried to smile as I eased into bed, though I lay on my side facing away from him. "Have to get over it eventually."
He touched my shoulder, the lightest touch before retreating. "At your own speed. He's changing the locks on your door, adding a chain and a few other things. So you'll be safer."
Tears prickled my eyes. I might not have told him, but the flimsy door bothered me even before Joey attacked me. I cleared my throat. "Thank you."
"What else can I do to make you safe?" He touched my tangled hair, my back, almost desperate to comfort me. "Natalia, tell me. Please."
The painkiller, whatever it was, slowed everything down again and lowered a fog around me. Everything felt warm and close. Sleep beckoned as the sharp agony in my knees and shoulder faded to a dull throb. I managed to reach a hand back to him. "Will you lie down with me?"
"Of course." His weight dipped the mattress behind me, the sheets and blankets rustling and moving as he settled. Logan spooned me, pulled me close to his chest and draped his arm over my side until he covered me almost as closely as the sheets did. He arranged the pillows and blanket, absently kissing the back of my neck. "Are you comfortable?"
"Cold," I murmured. My eyes wouldn't stay open, lead weights dragging my lids down. I wiggled and relaxed, sighing.
"That I can help with," he said. Drew me closer and that delicious rumble sparked in his chest, tickling me as he breathed deeply from my hair.
"You purr a lot," I said. I pressed my face against the pillow of his arm. He felt like a furnace, warming me all the way through until cold was a distant memory.
The rumble quieted. He said something that I didn't catch, a narcotic haze dragging me away. I yawned and stretched, then settled closer to him. "You smell good."
"So do you," he murmured, voice husky. His mouth left a trail of kisses along my neck and behind my ear. "Distractingly good. Go to sleep, baby. We can talk when you're feeling better."
It sounded like a good idea. Darkness settled around me, despite the tinkering sounds from the door, and I yawned again. "I feel better with you here."
"I'm glad." His arm tightened around my middle, held me securely in the curve of his body. "I feel better that I'm here, too."
I meant to say more, to thank him for everything, but I opened my mouth and everything went dark.
* * *
Logan dozed as he held Natalia, only moving when he needed to wake her. She had nightmares at least twice that he noticed, once crying out in fear before he managed to soothe her back to an easy sleep. Carter finished quickly with the door and crept close enough to ask if Logan needed anything else, then left.
It felt right, the quiet thump-thump of her heartbeat reassuring against his arm and the scent of her hair and skin curling around him. His lion purred, settled down finally to know she was as protected as he could make her. So far. Logan ran his fingers along her forearm, learning the curves and bumps of her wrist, as he planned. A new apartment and a new car, since the clunker she drove looked like a deathtrap just waiting to fall apart. With winter coming, something more solid, with better tires and handling, would be necessary. A two-bedroom apartment, he amended, closer to the restaurant. Walking distance to the restaurant, maybe. Secure lobby, concierge and security, access-controlled garage.
He glanced around the apartment, frowning. New furniture, definitely. And a gourmet kitchen, of course. Logan shushed her as Natalia stirred, uneasy, and she tried to sit, "Logan?"
"I'm here," he said, tightening his arms around her. "I've got you."
"Oh." Natalia relaxed and drifted off again without another word, and Logan smiled.
He was lost. He knew it. His voice came out a little rusty as he went on, murmuring his plans to her and hoping the sound of his voice would reassure her even in her dreams. "I have big plans for us, sweetheart."
Her forehead wrinkled as she frowned, then burrowed further under the covers.
Logan closed his eyes as well. "First, we'll finish with the restaurant — better security to start, and then new appliances in the kitchen. Improve the gas lines and plumbing and everything so it's a better place for you to work. A new manager, of course. More staff. A throne for you to occupy and direct your minions." He chuckled at the thought though it seemed entirely in character that she would perch on a high chair and shake a spatula — or carving knife — to order her cooks around.
He continued his mental list, glad he could talk through the process aloud, even though she was unconscious. "And then we'll get you settled somewhere much nicer, much safer. A penthouse suite, maybe. Two bedrooms, so you can have visitors. A beautiful kitchen and a beautiful view for my beautiful chef." He kissed her neck and shoulder, loving the taste of her skin. "Until you're ready to move in with me." It came out softer, a little less certain.
It felt too vulnerable, asking her to live with him, to be his, without knowing the answer for certain. It had only been a few days, less than a week, from the moment they met — and she hadn't liked him for most of that time. Only in the last day or two did she seem to tolerate him. He knew most humans wouldn't be as certain about the rightness of being together after only a few days, and wondered how long he would have to wait until she really understood who and what he was.
"Maybe," he said to her hair, tangling his fingers with hers. "Maybe I could move in with you in that big new apartment. We could live there together. Stay at the mansion on the weekends, maybe, if you're not working."
"Walk-in closet," she said, sighed against his arm.
Logan went still, wondering how much she heard. He brushed the hair away from her face, trying to see her expression. "What, baby?"
"I always wanted a walk-in closet," she said.
"I'll get you two." Logan kissed her cheek, touched her chin so he could see her face. "Would you live with me, Natalia? At my house or a new apartment or somewhere we both choose? Stay with me and be mine?"
She stretched, wiggling onto her back and looking up at him with sleepy eyes. "What about your brothers?"
"What about them?" He smiled, kissed the corner of her mouth.
"Where would they live?"
"Wherever they want," Logan said. He remained on his side, not wanting to loom over her. "Are you feeling better?"
"Still sore." Her eyes drooped, her cheeks flushed with warmth and the sunlight streaming in the windows
. "Tired."
"We're not going anywhere today," he said. Logan couldn't stop touching her, studying the delicate bones of her clavicle and brushing the tips of his fingers across her throat. "So other than a walk-in closet, what should we look for?"
She stretched again, and the t-shirt she wore — his t-shirt — ruffled up and exposed smooth, soft skin. The yoga pants did nothing to hide the gentle swell of her hip and stomach, evidence of a life of indulgence and enjoyment. Thank God, finally a woman who loved food. Loved wine and eating decadent food late into the night and sleeping in.
Natalia fussed with the sheets for a moment before settling back down. "Gas range. That's it."
A laugh bounced through him and escaped, and Logan bumped his forehead to hers as Natalia smiled in response. He examined a scrape on her elbow that he hadn't seen before, trying not to laugh too much. "That's it? A walk-in closet and a gas range and you're happy?"
"Mmm." She relaxed again and seemed to sleep, a very soft snore rattling in her throat.
Logan sighed as he studied her face, tracing the line of her nose and mouth and eyebrows over and over. The next time he looked up at the clock, it was late afternoon and his stomach growled. Natalia still slept, tangled up in the sheets, but instead of laying curled up in a self-protected ball, she sprawled across the entire mattress. She winced occasionally when her knees bumped something, but otherwise she rested well.
He extricated himself from the comfort of the bed and padded over to the kitchen. He texted Edgar to bring food soon, and then gathered up all the wet clothes and towels from the bathroom. It took him a moment to look around and realize she didn't have a washer or dryer. Those made his list for the new apartment. No more schlepping things to a laundromat or dicey laundry room in the basement of a building. Irritated, he hung everything up to drip-dry over the tub.
When he returned to the main room, he found Natalia sitting up in bed, looking confused. Her expression cleared when she saw him. "Oh."
Logan raised an eyebrow as he went to the kitchen and lit the burner under the teakettle. "What's the matter, babe?"
The flush rose in her cheeks. "I thought maybe I dreamed you."
"Well, I am dreamy," he said, deadpan.
Natalia made a pained noise as she slid to the edge of the mattress and tried to stand, but when Logan moved to help her, she held up a hand. "I can do it."
So he stood back as she hobbled to the bathroom, cursing with each step. As much as he enjoyed caring for her, he knew she wouldn't appreciate it all the time. He stood in the kitchen, staring at the door that separated her from him, and willed himself to calm. It helped that Edgar arrived before Natalia reappeared, his brother carrying bags of takeout containers to set on the counter in the kitchen.
Logan started unpacking the white cartons of rice and Thai food. "Where's Atticus?"
"Kept him at the restaurant, supervising the install. One of the manager's vendors showed up, interested in reinvigorating his relationship with the new ownership. I thought it best to keep the kid there in case skulls needed cracking."
Logan gritted his teeth. "I thought we made things clear this morning."
"We did. To Bridger and Hanover." Edgar frowned as he searched for plates and bowls, rubbing his jaw as he set them out. "But the manager wasn't just doing deals with them. He had side deals with some shady characters, buying meat and produce that mostly fell off other people's trucks. He pocketed the cash the owner set aside to pay for actual ingredients and replaced it with utter trash. It's amazing your chef was as successful as she was."
"Yeah." Logan glanced at the closed door but kept his voice low just in case she would overhear before he had a chance to review their earlier conversation. "Any luck finding an apartment?"
"I put Carter on it. There are a couple of options near the restaurant, but it's an in-demand location. You'll pay for it."
"It needs a walk-in closet. Two walk-in closets." He felt like an idiot under Edgar's amused scrutiny but refused to show it. "And a gas range. Two bedrooms. A fireplace. Big shower, big bathtub. Those are the requirements."
"Hers or yours?" Edgar snorted, his normally impassive expression cracking with a smile. "Give me the budget, and I'll have Jen from the real estate office take Natalia around. Otherwise, it'll take months to find something."
Logan froze as Natalia said, "Who's taking me where?"
She'd exited the bathroom quietly enough neither of them heard — although, from the look on Edgar's face, Logan suspected maybe his brother had heard. Logan gave him a look before pulling out a chair from the cafe table near the kitchen. "Sit, babe. I thought it would be nice if we found a new apartment. Some place closer to the restaurant, so you could walk to work if you wanted."
Her head tilted, eyes narrowed. "We?"
His heart sank. "You don't remember talking about that?"
She sighed, rubbing the back of her neck, and sank into the chair. "I thought you were kidding."
Edgar placed a bowl of rice on the table in front of her, saying, "He never kids," before retrieving the containers of curry, pad thai, drunken noodles, and other mysterious chicken concoctions.
"I see that," Natalia said, tone dry. She pointed her spoon at Logan. "Since you drugged me up the last time we talked about this, let's review. Why should I live with you?"
"Because I love you." It slipped out before Logan could think of a better response, so he let the words hang there in the air between them. Her eyebrows climbed toward her hairline, and even Edgar took a step back. Logan waited.
She laughed, flustered. "You can't be serious."
"He's always serious," Edgar said, then clapped Logan on the shoulder. "And I should be going. Natalia, I'm glad to see you up and about. Let me know if there's anything I can do for you." He disappeared out the door, and Logan watched Natalia, bracing for the sharp words.
Instead, she just stared at him, spoon forgotten in her hand. He watched her think, holding his breath, and wondered how long he would have to wait to hear her say the words back to him.
After an eternity of silence, she turned her attention to the panang curry in front of her. "Did anyone print the menus for this week?"
Irritated, Logan sat down across from her. "No."
"Good." She licked her spoon, attention on the bowl in front of her. "I don't like it when people make decisions for me. I'm not a control freak but for the restaurant, for my life — I want to decide." She fixed him with an even look, words weighty but placed with care. "I hope you understand that. I make my own decisions. I won't be bullied into anything."
"Good." Logan gripped the edge of the table to keep from breaking something in his fists. "Since I'm not a bully."
She made a noncommittal noise, and Logan sighed. "Fine. I won't bully you."
A hint of a smile, there and gone like a hummingbird. "Okay."
"Okay what?"
"Okay, I'll live with you."
The lion started rumbling, wanting to hold her again, to pin her underneath him. Logan sat back in his chair, eyebrow raised. "And why are you going to live with me?"
Mischief made her eyes darker as she studied her spoon, nonchalant. "I might, you know, love you too. Maybe."
"I can live with maybe. For a little while." Logan got up to pour them tea, though he wished for a bottle of whiskey instead. He still clinked his cup to hers once he was back at the table, trying not to grin like a fool. "To a new adventure in a nicer part of town."
She smiled, and he didn't mind looking like a fool at all.
Ten
Three days later I wanted to call it off, to stay in my crappy tiny apartment and not look at another shiny building in my life. Jen, the realtor, was distressingly bubbly and a morning person to boot. She spoke more words before eight a.m. than I did all day. After our first encounter, she didn't call before nine and always, always brought me coffee. She was very concerned that Mr. Chase knew she did everything in her power to make me happy, and after the constant referenc
es to Mr. Chase and his brothers, Mr. Chase and his excellent taste, Mr. Chase and his request for multiple closets, I was ready to punt Mr. Chase to the curb and find my own place.
But she meant well and seemed a genuinely nice person, so it was difficult to be too mean to her. My frustration grew out of the multitude of options and Logan's seeming indifference to the acceptable ones. He wanted the perfect one. He wanted an apartment that had everything, that was the best in the city — whether it was for sale or not. He only wanted the penthouse. Anything else wasn't good enough. Since there were limited buildings near the restaurant, that meant Jen had her work cut out for her trying to make the current owners sell or move.
When I complained, as Logan and I ate lunch in the restaurant's kitchen, he shrugged and said the other solution was to look farther from the restaurant, but that would mean I needed a new car. Just the thought of trying to purchase a new car had me holding my hands up in surrender. It felt like everything happened too fast, an intense rush of emotions and change. Like I turned around and no longer recognized my life.
The changes at the restaurant were for the better, at least. Carter took over as manager, and with Logan Chase's connections, the quality and behavior of our vendors improved immediately. We hired more staff for the kitchen and started renovating the back of the house to replace all the shitty appliances Joey sold out from under us.
Even standing near the heat of the cooktops in the soup kitchen, thinking about him made me shiver. Logan and Edgar both promised he was dealt with, but I didn't entirely believe them. Joey was too mean to just disappear. Maybe the people he owed money figured that out, but I remembered from much earlier in my life that dead men didn't pay back debts. His loan sharks had no reason to kill him since that would eliminate his ability to pay. He was out there somewhere.
"More chicken noodle?" I added more herbs to the giant stockpot, then nodded to one of the volunteers. "This one's ready, take it out to the line."
The weather turned and grew blustery rather that just cool, and snow threatened. All of the shelters filled quickly, and the soup kitchen's clientele expanded just as fast. Logan thought I hadn't noticed, but the soup kitchen received a sizable donation that filled and re-filled the pantry. When I asked where the money came from, the charity that ran the facility only said it came from heaven. I snorted, concentrating on the next vat of broth and noodles. Heaven my ass, it had Logan's fingerprints all over it.