Page 8 of The Bratva's Forced Bride
“Logan, this ... this is too much. This is—”
“You deserve much more, Addison Mae.” The look in his eyes softened when he said my name. He brushed his thumb under my lower lip and eyed it for a minute. “Nothing in this world is too much or too good or too beautiful for you. If I could, I’d get whatever you desire, and ...”
I hugged him tight just to show him how much he meant to me. Logan was every woman’s dream. Everything he did was too good to be true. I could hardly believe that I had caught a man who enjoyed spoiling me the way he did.
“Thank you so much. I don’t take any of this for granted, okay? Just ... don’t make me cry. You know I’m ugly when I cry.”
Setting me down on my feet, he laughed and kissed my nose. “Never. You’re never ugly. You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my entire life.”
“Oh, stop with the flattery.”
“Flattery?” He cornered me between the back of the sofa and his chest. Then he lowered his lips so that I could feel the heat of his breath on my mouth. Something warm and cozy stirred in my belly and a sensational tingle crawled up my neck. “It’s the fucking truth, Addi. You’re so fucking beautiful that any man who saw you like this, right now, would lose his mind.”
I blushed. So much so that I was sure my cheeks resembled a ripe tomato. I didn’t curse; that wasn’t my thing. But every time those words left Logan’s lips, I felt like a matchhead that had been lit.
My hair fell forward, and he brushed the unruly strands behind my ears. “Are you sleepy?”
“No. Why? You’ve got plans?”
“Something like that,” he smirked. His hands found mine and he laced our fingers. “I was thinking we could go to that nearby store, Jacy’s? And grab something for a late-night snack and a movie. Maybe binge-watch episodes of Arcane: League of Legends.”
“Arcane?” I rolled my eyes. “I’m thinking, if we have to binge-watch anything, I’d pick the best—Bridgeton.”
“Whatever you want, Lady Daphne.” He made a mock bow and elicited a laugh from me. It was corny and out of context. But it was Logan, so I loved it.
****
Times like these were priceless to me.
Times when I could sit next to him in the car all night and just watch him, listen to him talk, or admire the lively expression on his face when he said something funny and laughed at his joke. I loved the crinkle his eyes made at the sides when he smiled. Amazingly, it made him look younger than a man who has lived for thirty-four long years.
He was sweet, eloquent, and handsome. The kind of handsome that makes women swoon and forget their names. In the world of the rich, he could pass for anything: a real estate agent, a philanthropist, a politician, a stockbroker. Logan could be anything. Countless possibilities poured out of him like strong, expensive perfume from a broken bottle. With his slightly British accent, he always sounded so sophisticated and somehow sexy. I considered myself lucky to be his girl—his woman.
It was never boring with him. He always made me happy. Always. Now he was telling a story that had happened to him at work about a snobby intern who didn’t realize that he was the boss.
I could already see Jacy's neon signs in the distance, and we had just got to the part of the story where he revealed his identity to her when, completely out of nowhere, a fleet of Mercedes cars, black as the night, blocked our car. Logan slammed on the brakes and the tires squealed as we came to an abrupt halt. I was thrown around in my seat—catapulted toward the windshield—and was completely confused. What the heck was going on here?
Men rushed out of the cars and pointed guns at our windshield. My heart pounded like a bongo drum in my chest.
A shot rang out and I looked at Logan, who looked paler and angrier than I'd ever seen him before.
“Logan, what—”
“Logan Mercer!” A voice thundered. It was dark, deep, and full of hatred, so strong that I could almost feel it. But it wasn’t the hatred in its tone that made me shiver. It was the rapture that followed and made my head snap so fast I thought I had been struck by lightning. “Get the fuck out of the car!”
Save for a few flickering streetlights, there was slight darkness. He was tall, very tall, broad-shouldered, and like Logan, wore a dress shirt with sleeves rolled up. But I couldn’t make out his face clearly. Whoever he was, his rage promised death.
“Logan, what’s happening?”
“Addi, stay in the car and don’t come out no matter what, you hear me?”
“No.” Eyes wide, in a flash, I unfastened the seatbelt. “Logan, you can’t go out there. These men ... they have guns.”
But he wasn’t listening to me. He took off his seatbelt and stepped outside. When he walked up to the tall man with the commanding voice, I’d never been more scared. They glared at each other, and Logan stood with curled fists.
That rattled me, but I didn’t have long to think about it, because in the blink of an eye, he was struck with the butt of a gun and was on his knees.
“No!” I forced myself out of the car and threw all caution to the wind. Tears stood in my eyes, the wind ruffled my hair, and at that moment, I forgot I was only wearing Logan’s baggy sweatshirt and white booty shorts. I dropped onto my haunches and tried to get him to stand up. “Logan, get up, please! Stay away from him, all of you!”