Chapter 162

Ella

I touched the gold medal around my neck, feeling the weight of it against my skin. It was a surreal moment, one I couldn’t quite wrap my head around.

Logan had just won the race, and he had draped his victory medal around my neck. The gesture left me inexplicably attracted to him, and I had to look away to hide the blush that had crept onto my cheeks.

Logan, still in his racing suit with his helmet still hiding his identity, glanced at me with a warm look in his eyes. “You okay, Ella?”

I nodded, my voice a little shaky as I replied, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just... this is all a bit overwhelming.”

He chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “I can imagine. It’s not every day that this happens for you, I’m sure.”

I couldn’t help but offer a small smile in return. “No. It doesn’t.”

There was a brief silence between us, the sound of the crowd becoming our backdrop, before Logan jerked his head toward the garage. “Meet me there?”

“Sure,” I said with a nod. I watched for a moment as he jogged back to his racecar and climbed in, and then I slipped away from the crowd, ignoring the excited gazes and whispers of Logan’s fans.

It seemed as though people were wondering who I was, but I intended on keeping them wondering. I couldn’t afford to have people figuring out that I was Ella Morgan, daughter of the WereCorp CEO, parading around in an underground car racing ring.

Although, something told me that even if people found out, they probably won’t say anything. This place seemed like the type of place where everything was kept under wraps, and for good reason.

I still wasn’t exactly sure how legal all of it was, and judging from the bookies wandering around looking shady, I assumed that it fell on the “iffy” end of the legality spectrum.

Once I was back in the garage and the scent of rubber and gasoline hit me, I let out a soft sigh of relief.

“Well, that was something,” Ema said, catching my attention just as Logan pulled his racecar into his spot and climbed out. “He looks good in a racing suit. All of that tight leather…”

“Hey, not fair,” I replied, although I found myself unable to tear my gaze away from the way his muscles rippled beneath the admittedly tight suit.

Logan approached and finally took his helmet off, letting out his own sigh of relief. “So, there’s usually a get-together with a bonfire after the races for close staff and friends,” he said. “But if you don’t like that sort of thing, I can take you home.”

Surprisingly, despite my better judgment, I found myself intrigued by the idea. My wolf prodded at me, urging me to go. “C’mon,” she insisted, poking at my psyche. “You know you want to. And it sounds fun, which you sort of need right now.”

I almost sighed, but only because my wolf was right; I did need a bit of fun right now. I nodded, meeting Logan’s gaze.

“Actually, that sounds kind of fun. I’d love to join,” I found myself saying, even though my more logical side was telling me that it wasn’t my scene and that I was making a mistake.

Logan’s eyes lit up. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” I said, punching his arm lightly. “Don’t do anything that’ll make me regret it, though.”

“No promises,” Logan said with a smirk. With that, he gathered his things and disappeared into the changing room. A few minutes later, he emerged in his regular clothes again; but I couldn’t unsee the way he had looked in that racing suit. I hated to admit it, but I was a little sad to see it off.

“Something wrong?” Logan asked as he approached.

I shook my head, blushing slightly. “Nope. Nothing at all.”

As we walked across the parking lot towards his car, I couldn’t help but notice how Logan kept glancing over his shoulder, his expression tense. I furrowed my brows and finally asked, “Logan, what's wrong? You keep looking around like you’re expecting something.”

He hesitated for a moment, as if debating whether to share his concerns. But then he sighed and made his confession. “I have a rival, Jet. He often tries to pull dirty tricks to win, and he hates my guts. It’s kind of weird, honestly. Everyone else is pretty friendly here, but not Jet.”

My heart sank at the thought of Logan facing such a dangerous opponent. “That sounds really dangerous, Logan,” I said.

He shrugged as he tossed his gear into the back of his car. “It’s fine. I’ve gotten used to his tricks by now—”

“No, that’s not it,” I said. “Logan, this sport is already dangerous enough as it is. Now I’m even more worried.”

Logan glanced at me, his eyes softening. “Am I hearing correctly? You—Ella—are actually worried about me?”

I narrowed my eyes and folded my arms across my chest, although I couldn’t deny the blush in my cheeks. “Don’t patronize me.”

Logan’s smile returned. “I’m not patronizing you. It’s… sweet that you’re worried, Ella. But don’t worry too much. I can handle myself just fine. Although, I could use a good luck charm just in case…”

I furrowed my brows, not entirely sure where he was going with this. "What do you mean? Like a talisman, or…?”

He looked into my eyes, his gaze intense. “You know, for a lawyer, you can be pretty dense sometimes.”

I looked down at the medal around my neck, realizing what he was implying; that I was his good luck charm.

It was a lot to ask, but right now, in the afterglow of his victory beneath the amber hue of the parking lot lights, with the sound of the crowd dispersing, the thought of being there to support him was appealing.

“Do it,” Ema urged. “Be his good luck charm. It’s sweet that he’s asking.”

“But I shouldn’t,” I replied. “I’m supposed to be pushing him—”

“Just do it, Ella!”

Driven half by the urge of my wolf and half by my own undeniable desire, I finally nodded, feeling both excited and like a fool all at once. “Okay. Sure. I’ll be your good luck charm.”

Logan’s face broke into a wide grin, and before I could resist, he pulled me into a quick hug. “I knew you’d say yes.”

“Did you?” I asked, pushing away a bit even though part of me wanted to linger in his arms.

He nodded. “Of course. You haven’t let go of that medal since I put it around your neck.”

His words gave me pause. I looked down, and lo and behold, there it was; the medal, still pressed between my fingers, warm now from my touch. The gold glinted in the amber glow of the parking lot lights, and I quickly looked away to hide the redness in my cheeks.

“Okay. You caught me,” I said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Logan simply chuckled and opened the passenger side door for me. I slid in, reluctantly letting go of the medal, and watched as he jogged around the car to the driver’s side.

And in that moment, with his hair ruffled by the nighttime breeze and his skin almost glowing beneath the orange lights, I had to finally admit it.

Logan Barrett was handsome as hell.