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Not Even Close
Last Updated:
2025-03-31 01:58:48
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Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Real
Logan ReynoldsI’m half-asleep when the buzz jerks me awake. The screen glares back at me — 11:30 p.m. I groan and shift onto my side, ready to silence it, but the name stops me.Viola.I stare at it. She’s been calling. And I’ve been ignoring. I thought she’d give up. I was counting on it, honestly. But now, for some reason I can’t name, I pick up.“Hello?” I croak.But it’s not her voice. It’s a man. “Hey, uh… sorry to bother you. You’re listed as an emergency contact for a Viola McCoy?”My stomach clenches. “Yeah. Is she okay?”“She’s at my bar. Drunk. I’m closing up soon, just didn’t want to leave her alone.”He sounds casual, but my heart's already slamming in my chest. I throw the covers off and I'm already reaching for my coat. “Is she hurt? Is she… alright?”“She’s breathing, man. Just slurring and barely awake. Figured she needed someone.”I’m not even wearing socks. “Where are you? Shit—what bar?”There’s a pause, then he rattles off an address. I mutter a quick “I’ll be the
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Under
Viola McCoy Today has to be the slowest day I’ve ever experienced. What’s happening? It’s like the seconds drag on more than necessary and I’ve lived a whole day in the last seven hours.But at least it’s almost 7 p.m. and time to leave.Logan didn’t show up at the office. Figures. He’s probably avoiding me.I close my laptop with a dull thud, the sound echoing in the quiet corner of my workspace. My fingers feel numb as I gather my things—mouse, charger, lip balm, and that stupid leather-bound planner I haven’t even had the mental capacity to use today. It all goes into my bag with force.“Bye, Viola!” someone calls from across the office. I don’t even bother checking who it is.“Bye,” I manage, tight-lipped and polite, forcing a smile that burns my cheeks.I step into the elevator, and the silence inside feels like a vacuum.Just me, my thoughts, and the soft mechanical hum.When I step into the parking lot, that familiar pang of forgetfulness hits.Damn it.My car isn’t he
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Think
Logan Reynolds “You’re seriously going to rot in here?” Bonnie says, stepping into my room like it’s her damn business.I don’t look up. I can hear the sound of her boots against the hardwood floor, the way they drag slightly like she’s annoyed but trying not to show it. I just keep my eyes locked on the screen in front of me. Emails. Spreadsheets. Budget forecasts. I’m not even reading the damn thing—I’m just staring at numbers that don’t matter right now.Work’s important. Or at least, that’s what I keep telling myself. That if I bury myself deep enough in tasks, deadlines, and silence, the ache in my chest will shut up. But it doesn’t. It sits there, heavy and unmoving, like wet cement poured straight into my ribcage.“You know this isn’t healthy, right?” Bonnie says. She crosses her arms. “You haven’t stepped out all day.”“I stepped out this morning,” I mutter.“Oh, right. To go emotionally torch your own heart and then play office zombie for the next ten hours?”I finally
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Lost
Viola McCoy I don’t move.I can’t.I’m still standing there, frozen, like if I stay still long enough, maybe the world will reverse itself and he won’t walk away.But he does. He already did.He’s gone.Logan Reynolds… is gone.I let him walk away.Just like that.And I didn’t stop him.I couldn’t.Because somewhere between his voice breaking and my chest cracking wide open, I realized he was right.All of it. Every damn word he said.I do keep him waiting. I do reach for him only when I’m hurting. I do make him feel like an afterthought—because maybe deep down, I’ve been so scared of what he made me feel that I never let myself choose him.And now he’s gone.My legs finally give in. I walk slowly to the low concrete ledge near the railing and just… sit.The wind is sharp against my skin. My arms wrap around myself, like that might keep me from unraveling. Like I can hold all the pieces of me together with just my fingers and silence.But I can’t.I can’t hold it in anymore.The
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Show
Logan Reynolds It’s almost 2 a.m. and no one’s sleeping. Not really. Not when a wedding has just gone up in flames.The lounge is still lit. A few people are around Susan, draped over her like a shroud of sympathy but I know none of it is real. Her mascara is smudged, cheeks blotchy, but she’s nodding at every comforting word like she hears them. She doesn’t. She’s somewhere else entirely.Fred’s vanished, of course. Gone the second the truth hit the air. I’d bet money he’s holed up in some closet or stairwell with a flask and a shattered ego.Julian’s pacing the lounge like a man with something to prove. His fists keep clenching like he’s imagining what he’d do if he got his hands on Fred. “I’ll kill him,” he keeps muttering. “I swear to God, I’ll fucking kill him.”He won’t. We all know he won’t. That guy doesn’t have the guts to kill a spider, let alone a man. But it makes him feel like a protector, like he still has a role to play in all this.I lean against the pillar ne
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Title
Viola McCoyMy head is pounding as my eyes flutter open. Light filters through the curtains in soft golden streaks. My mouth tastes stale, and there's a dull ache at the base of my skull, pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat. It takes me a moment to piece together where I am, why I’m here, and why my chest feels so heavy. I sit up slowly, the world tilting for a second before it steadies. The room smells faintly of cologne—Logan’s cologne. That clean, masculine scent still lingers in the air like he never left. He brought me back last night. That part I remember. His arms around me, solid and warm. The way I melted into his chest.My gaze shifts, and I freeze.Julian stands by the dresser in a crisp white suit and tie, straightening his cuffs. His reflection in the mirror is calm, almost pleased. Like nothing happened. Like everything is fine.My mouth is dry as I ask, “Where are you going?”He turns, adjusting his tie, eyes unreadable. “You’re awake?”I nod, my stomach churning w
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Lovers bridge
Logan Reynolds I haven’t slept all night.The mattress beneath me feels too firm. The ceiling too white. The sheets too loud. My thoughts? Even louder. I toss again, dragging a hand down my face. My skin feels tight, dry from the air conditioner.Viola.Her name is like a bruise in my chest. Aching, impossible to ignore.I shouldn’t have kissed her like that. I shouldn't have said what I said. Run away with me? What the hell was I thinking? Who says something like that in the middle of… whatever that was? I was caught up. Lost in her. And then I saw her panic and bolt, like the air had been sucked out of her lungs the second the words left mine.I left her alone. Dammit.I sit up, rubbing my temple. Maybe it was a mistake—leaving her. I thought I was giving her space. Trying to respect her boundaries. But what if she thought I was abandoning her?She’s still married.I hate the way that tastes in my mouth. Like ash.The light peeks through the curtains now. Thin beams of gol
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine You
Viola McCoy I slam the door behind me and lock it.My back hits the wood, and I slide to the floor like I’ve been shot in the chest. The sob that escapes me is raw and sudden, like it’s been sitting in my throat for years just waiting for a chance to scream its way out.The room is dim—one of the guest suites with golden wallpaper. The bed’s still made. The lights are off except for the lamp in the corner. It smells like polished furniture and roses. I pull my knees to my chest.And then I cry.I cry like my body’s collapsing inward. Like every ounce of strength I’ve faked for years is melting out of me and I can’t stop it. It’s not even graceful. It’s ugly, heaving, snotty, shoulder-shaking grief. The kind that steals your breath and leaves your chest hollow.I cover my mouth with my hand to muffle the sounds, but I don’t think anyone’s listening.Good.Let them have their damn cake-covered disaster. Let them stand there stunned while I fall apart in peace.My cheek still sti
Capturing Viola: His Wife Is Mine Sh*t
Logan Reynolds I pull back a little, trying not to get lost in the drunken taste of this woman in front of me. Her cheeks are flushed. And she’s panting a bit.God knows how much I’m trying to control myself right now. I want her to feel safe with me, I don’t her to think I’m taking advantage of the situation. But it’s hard to hold back when she’s staring at me like that. She also doesn’t move. She continues to stare blankly at me and I interpret that as an agreement. My mouth hovered over hers, giving her one last chance to pull away.When she doesn’t, I close the remaining distance again and brush her lips with the lightest of kisses. It’s so soft, it counts more as a graze than a kiss, but it detonates every emotion I’ve tried so hard to bury. Pain, longing, regret, love. No one could make me feel as much or as deeply as Viola does, and any control I might’ve had left snaps at her nearly inaudible sigh of pleasure.I deepen the kiss, my mouth molding to hers with an ease. M
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