Chapter 191

Ella

We spent the rest of the ride back to the mansion in silence. I kept grinding my teeth over my frustration with Logan; I hated feeling this way, like I was spiraling out of control. I had thought that telling him would have made me feel better, but after today, I wasn’t so sure.

Here I was, having to fight off Marina’s advances, and all the while Logan wouldn’t even tell me what his plan was. He kept assuring me that I was safe, and I believed him, but I hated not knowing. I felt like a pawn in this game rather than his equal.

“Typical man,” Ema growled, just as annoyed at him as I was. “Always making the woman step aside so he can handle everything. Too stubborn for his own good, that one.”

I couldn’t have agreed more. Logan’s apparent arrogance and insistence on keeping me in the dark were infuriating. I just wanted us to be equal partners in this dangerous game we were playing, not for me to feel like a piece of bait in whatever grand scheme he was concocting.

When we pulled into the driveway, Logan turned to face me one last time.

“Don’t ‘forget’ your phone again,” he said, his voice gentle but his words firm. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. Marina is smart; she might believe you once, but—”

“Yeah, I know,” I said, maybe the tiniest bit harsher than I intended. “I only planned on doing it once. And besides, there’s no point in leaving it again, since you won’t even talk to me about the plan anyway.”

Logan sighed as he looked at me, and I could see his shoulders slump slightly. “Ella,” he said, passing his hand over his face in a weary fashion, “it’s not that simple. If I could tell you, I would.”

“But you can tell me,” I insisted. “Do you really think I wouldn’t be able to keep my mouth shut?”

For a few moments, Logan stared at me. Then, with a slightly raised voice, he said, “So you think that, if someone were to, I don’t know, beat the hell out of you, you’d keep everything to yourself? Do you think that if Daisy was held captive in front of you with a knife to her throat that you’d keep quiet? Hm?”

At his words, I felt my breath catch in my throat and hot tears begin to prick at the backs of my eyes. I quickly turned away before he could see the pain on my face, but it was too late.

He sighed. “I didn’t mean that,” he said wearily. “Ella, I’d never let that happen to you or Daisy. I’m sorry. I’m just—”

But I shook my head, cutting him off. “I get it,” I murmured. “I’m just… I feel so helpless.”

I could see Logan nod in the corner of my eye, and then his hand came to gently rest on my leg. “I know, Ella,” he said gently. “But just this once, I just need you to trust me—and keep doing what you do best.”

“And what would that be?” I asked with a scoff.

“Just… keep being a great lawyer,” he said. “And when the time comes, represent me in court with everything you’ve got.”

His words gave me pause. I slowly turned to look at him, and was met with his sincere, blue-eyed gaze. Seeing him like this softened me, and I nodded.

“Okay. I think I can do that.”

…

Later that night, as had become our routine since I moved in, Logan came to my room to sleep. It had become a sort of unspoken agreement; although neither of us mentioned it, he came every night, and I never pushed him away.

But tonight, after he had spent hours in his office, he came in with a tired look on his face.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, he sighed. “Ella, I have some news.”

I turned to face him, still feeling slightly perturbed after our last discussion but feeling a bit softer toward him now. “Is everything okay?”

He nodded, then glanced at me with a bemused expression on his face. “I know it’s last minute, but I’m throwing a holiday party this weekend. Tomorrow night, actually.”

I raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “A party?”

He nodded again as he leaned back on the headboard, shutting his tired eyes. “Yes. And I know I haven’t given you much of a heads up, but you’ll have to come; we still need to act like we’re together, remember?”

I almost scoffed; of course I remembered. It was all part and parcel to our little charade. We had to keep up our fake relationship so that Marina would think that Logan was still in the dark, which only added to our frustration. Both of us had so much on our plates right now that it all felt suffocating.

But he was right. I did need to go, and I wouldn’t let my frustration stop me from doing the best I could.

“Alright,” I said with a sigh, snapping shut the book I had been reading and placing it on the bedside table. “I’ll go, but I want to go to bed early. I’m exhausted from work.”

Logan chuckled, his tension seemingly easing. It was a warm sound, and it made my tension ease a bit as well. “Of course you can go to bed early,” he said. “You’ve earned it.”

I nodded, feeling a bit relieved. Logan continued to get ready for bed, but just as he peeled the blankets back on his side and was about to climb in, he paused to look at me.

“I really am sorry, Ella,” he said, his voice gentle. “I didn’t mean to say those things earlier.”

I set my book down again and met his gaze. The image of Daisy having a knife to her throat still plagued me, but I knew that he had only been trying to paint a picture of a worst case scenario—something that would, hopefully, never happen.

“Let’s just move on from it,” I said with a weak smile. “We’ve got enough on our plates already.”

Logan looked at me for a moment as though there was more he wanted to say, but he seemed to finally give in and nodded. Without another word, he climbed into bed and rolled over, going to sleep.

That night, we fell asleep in amicable silence, although I couldn’t entirely deny the fact that I was still a bit perturbed by the whole day. The next morning, though, that trepidation was replaced by a mild sense of excitement for the party. The chance to have the tiniest shred of normalcy, whatever that meant these days, amidst all of this uncertainty felt like a lifeline when I needed it the most.

However, I couldn’t help but continue to wonder what this party was all about. Logan had said that it was a holiday part, but I had begun to wonder otherwise. It all felt so last-minute, something that a holiday party was typically not.

As I watched the servants setting up the grand Christmas tree in the living room and carefully arranging tables and centerpieces, I finally decided to ask the question that had been nagging at me.

Approaching one of the maids, I asked, “Excuse me, what is this party for, exactly?”

The maid glanced at me briefly before continuing her task. “It’s a networking party, miss. Mr. Logan is hosting it for some business associates and potential partners.”

I frowned as I watched the maid scurry away to help with something involving the Christmas tree. A networking party disguised as a holiday party?

Something just wasn’t adding up; I was sure of it.