Anna’s POV
Logan’s hand unexpectedly reached up to cup my face. His familiar features suddenly seed alien, transford by an intensity I’d never witnessed before.
"Because I don’t want to be the nice guy anymore, Anna. I’m tired of always being considerate of others," Logan said, his eyes burning with an unfamiliar heat. His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "Because I might do things that will make you hate ."
My eyes widened as shock pulsed through my system. Had he completely lost his mind? The irony wasn’t lost on —l’d just rebuffed Jack Simpson only to imdiately face another unwanted advance. My instincts scread danger, and I stepped backward only to feel his hand firmly grasp the back of my head.
We were close enough that passersby might mistake us for lovers about to kiss. Disgust and fury roiled in my stomach. This man was even more unhinged than Samuel.
"You should know my personality by now, Logan. If you think this removes all my reservations, you’re wrong, " I said, my voice turning to ice as I fought to control my anger. "Let go of ."
Instead of releasing , he tilted his head, clearly intending to kiss .
Frustration and disbelief crashed through like a tidal wave.
"Am I just incredibly unlucky today or is my love life suddenly exploding?" I blurted out, not bothering to hide my irritation.
"What do you an?" His fingers froze mid-air, confusion crossing his face.
I didn’t bother explaining. "You think forcing a kiss on will make give in? Let be frank with you—I already have soone."
"But Jack never touched you..." The words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them.
A cold wave of realization washed over . "How do you know Jack never touched ?" My heart hamred against my ribs as winter wind cut through my coat, bringing with it a bone-deep chill that had nothing to do with the temperature.
Logan’s expression darkened, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.
"Who is it? WHO? It can’t be Sean Smith, and it’s certainly not Jack Simpson, so who is it?"
Seeing his reaction gave a small, vindictive satisfaction. "That’s none of your business."
Without warning, he pulled against him, his grip tightening as his voice lost all its usual warmth. "It doesn’t matter. I don’t care. Is it Marcus Murphy?"
I struggled against his hold, but couldn’t break free. "No. LET GO!" The ntion of Marcus’s na sent an unwelco flutter through my chest despite the circumstances.
Logan buried his face in the crook of my neck, his breath hot against my skin. "It doesn’t matter if it’s him.
Annie, I’m the one who truly loves you."
That ignited my fury completely. "If you hadn’t tried to hurt before, I might have thanked you. Now, all I can say is don’t bother. I don’t need your love." Each word dripped with ice-cold contempt.
Logan finally released as Rachel jumped out, quickly positioning herself between us. Her high heels clicked sharply against the marble pavent.
"Ms. Shaw, are you alright?" Her eyes never left Logan as she spoke.
"I’m fine. Let’s go." I maintained my composure despite the turmoil inside.
Before stepping into the car, I turned back to deliver one final blow. "And I don’t want to hear you call Annie ever again."
"But Marcus Murphy can, right?" Logan called out, pain and defiance mingling in his voice as his suit fluttered in the bitter wind.
I paused briefly, Marcus’s gentle manner flashing through my mind.
"Yes." One simple word that carried the weight of complicated emotions I wasn’t ready to fully examine.
ーーー
The next few days passed in relative calm. Despite my shoulders still healing, work kept constantly occupied. In Shaw Corp’s top-floor office, I was reviewing docunts when Rachel entered with an elegant invitation.
"Ms. Shaw, this just arrived," she said, handing the gold-embossed card.
"Catherine Murphy’s company opening ceremony."
Taking the invitation, I unconsciously traced the Murphy family crest with my fingertip, my thoughts drifting to Marcus. *He must have returned to Europe by now.* He’d said he would only stay three days, and twice that ti had already passed. A bittersweet sensation spread through my chest— he appeared without warning and vanished just as silently, his offer to take with him nothing but empty words.
"Order eight flower arrangents, nothing too extravagant," I instructed Rachel, trying to mask my disappointnt.
She returned shortly after. "Ms. Shaw, Samuel Griffin is here."
My spirits lifted imdiately. "Please show Mr. Griffin to the small conference room. Have so tea prepared. I’ll be right there."
Samuel arrived with his assistant and the agreent we’d been negotiating for weeks. Finally, we signed the papers, making our partnership official.
Across the polished conference table, we exchanged smiles of mutual respect.
"Not easy, Ms. Shaw. You’re the toughest business partner I’ve encountered in years," Samuel said with a half-joke, the Heritage Group emblem on his tailored suit gleaming under the lights.
I smiled back. "The feeling is mutual."
Pride swelled within at what we’d accomplished.
Samuel raised his teacup. "So I guess we’re friends forged through adversity.
Ms. Shaw, please don’t disappoint ."
"Mr. Griffin, believe , I want to secure Skylake District even more than you do," I replied sincerely, having invested too much of myself in this project to see it fail.
- - -
On the day of Catherine’s company opening, I arrived early to show my support. The hotel venue was already bustling with Skyview Ciry’s elite.
"Good thing I asked the hotel to prepare extra tables. Otherwise, I’d be embarrassed today," Catherine remarked with surprise, looking radiant amid the crowd.
I couldn’t resist teasing her. "Didn’t you send out invitations?"
"My father’s reputation carries more weight than any invitation. Look around —how many people are here for versus for him? I’m having my company opening, and they’re all networking," she replied with resignation, fidgeting with her champagne glass.
"I can’t speak for others, but I’m definitely here for you," I assured her sincerely, genuinely happy for my friend’s success.
Our conversation was interrupted when an employee approached with a courier. "Ms. Murphy, there’s a delivery for you."
Catherine accepted the beautifully wrapped package with a laugh. "Who’s this from? Sending a package to my office opening when they know I’m busy—they’re doing this on purpose, aren’t they?"
Urged by the curious onlookers, she opened it publicly. Inside lay a set of keys and an access card, accompanied by a note containing only a six-digit number and a signature-Marcus Murphy.
"What is this?" Catherine looked at the number in confusion, turning to . "I understand if Uncle Marcus is giving a property, but what’s this number?"
Reviews
All reviews (0)