The door opened without a knock interrupting my thoughts. I didn’t look up. I didn’t need to.Only one person entered a room like that around me—like she had the right to. Like she didn’t care if I said yes or no.Emily crossed the room with quiet steps, a manila folder tucked under one arm, a loose
LoganThe park wasn’t supposed to get under my skin.It was overgrown, half-rotted, and completely useless in terms of optics. No press platform. No dignitaries. Just cracked stone, tangled vines, and the memory of someone who used to believe in playgrounds and benches and places for children to fee
He hadn’t asked for it back. And I hadn’t offered.I wasn’t sure either of us knew what we were doing anymore.The estate staff we passed didn’t say much—just bowed heads or polite greetings, stepping back with the kind of practiced deference that always made me uncomfortable.I wasn’t one of them,
Emily“This place does luxury picnics. Private chefs. Press exclusives if we want them,” Logan said, sliding the portfolio across the counter.It featured a glossy estate overlooking a lake, all manicured gardens and glass pavilions. It looked exactly like something his circle would devour—visibly e
He studied me for a long beat, his expression unreadable. Then he held out his jacket for me, refusing to take no for an answer.“Thank you, Logan.” I said, slipping my arms into it and turning away before he could catch the flush in my cheeks.When I turned back, he offered me a folder—plain, thick
EmilyI’d worn silk armor before. And I had a feeling I would need it at tonight’s Pack event.The dress wasn’t chosen for softness or appeal—it was structure. The neckline sharp, the color bold. A deep midnight blue that caught the light like the sea at night.I didn’t ask Logan for approval. I did