The Billionaire's Intern: Logan Black (Forbidden Book 1) Page 10

  “Yes,” he said, his voice rough.

  Once again, she reached toward him, her delicate hand a temptation he almost couldn’t resist.

  “Stop, Addison. Just stop. I get that you’re having a moment of self-discovery. That you think because you found independence, you’ve found the secret to life. But this is way over your head, princess. You don’t understand what you are dealing with here.”

  “Because I’m a dumb rich girl, or just because you think I’m dumb in general?”

  “Because you have no idea how dark the world can be. You have no idea what a person’s capable of doing, what I’m capable of doing… Just get out.”

  Her eyes filled with tears, and the conscience he’d thought was beyond feeling burned. She looked angry, she looked hurt, but she didn’t argue. Instead she turned on her heel and walked out of the office, slamming the door behind her.

  Rage filled him, impotent, pointless rage. He wanted to tear down his office, tear down the entire building. Wanted to tear down his past so that there was something different in its place, so he could have a hope at a different future.

  Instead he loosened his tie, wrenching the door back open and storming out of his office. He would take care of this in the gym. And when he was done, he would figure out what to do. About the speech, about Addison. And about the attraction that could never be allowed to burn out of control.

  Chapter Nine

  Addison woke up gasping for breath. Fighting through the mist that shrouded her brain, trying to escape the icy fingers that were reaching through the darkness to grab her.

  The nightmares were getting worse. Visions of men waiting to buy her while her father looked on, a cold smile curving his lips, a bullet hole in one side of his head. And on the other side was a group of women. They were chained together. Naked, clinging to each other and looking at her, accusation burning from their eyes.

  And in the midst of all that, she felt an icy, sick grief that made her ache. That made her want to run to her father. Even as he was in this vision, a cold, undead stranger.

  The grief was wrapped in fear, wrapped in guilt. If she loved that man, even a little bit, was she complicit somehow? If he had lived, would he have been able to convince her that he’d been right somehow?

  “No.” She spoke the word into the darkness, trying to make it true, trying to make herself believe it.

  It didn’t matter anyway, because she would never be tested in that way. Jason was dead. Her father was dead. And she didn’t even have good memories left of him. Because they were alive. Because Jason Treffen, as she knew him, had been a lie.

  She sucked in a shaking breath and swung her legs over the side of the bed, padding into the bathroom and taking care of business, before walking back out into the bedroom. Going back to bed didn’t seem attractive at all, but it was only 4:00 a.m., and getting up didn’t hold a lot of appeal either.

  Maybe, if she went down to the lobby, she could find some Skittles. Or some variety of candy at least. She was living in a hotel, so she might as well make the best use of it.

  The alternative was staying here with ghosts, and other things that went bump in the night.

  “No, thank you.” She wandered to the wardrobe and pulled a pair of yoga pants out of the top drawer. It wasn’t the most fashionable look, paired with her long white sleep shirt, but she didn’t care about fashion right now.

  Her mother would be appalled. Even going down to the hotel lobby sans full war paint would be a travesty to her. But Addison didn’t have the energy for it right now. She was tired of pretending. Even if she had no idea what not pretending would entail.

  She pushed open the door to her suite and peeked out into the hallway. It was empty, just as she’d expected it to be. Well, if she were honest, she’d half expected to find Logan prowling around. No such luck.

  She rolled her eyes at herself. It would not be luck to encounter Logan right now. Especially not after the way they’d left things earlier. Now, that was what she should be worrying about. And not horrible dreams about Jason.

  She’d made an idiot of herself with Logan. She’d practically thrown herself at him. And that was what happened when she deviated from the script. From the simple, safe rules she’d always lived her life by.

  She crossed her arms beneath her breasts and kept walking toward the elevator. Yes, she felt terminally embarrassed by the whole thing. And she felt every inch the inexperienced virgin that she was. Hopelessly attracted to an unsuitable man, probably just because of the proximity. Well, the proximity, her fragile emotional state, and the fact that he was…well, he was hot.

  Better women than her had fallen prey to Logan Black. At least, back when he’d been a practicing playboy. He seemed something of a born-again monk these days.

  Of course, he hadn’t even left the hotel in three months. Though she imagined women were more than willing to deliver themselves to his doorstep. Probably even gift wrapped.

  She tried to focus on something else. Anything else. Though all she seemed to be able to come up with were more worries.

  She thought of Harlow. And the fact that she still hadn’t heard from her friend. Anxiety curled the edges of her stomach in. She stepped out of the elevator, before the doors could close, then turned back toward her room. She didn’t need to find candy. If she couldn’t sleep, she was better off spending her time making an effort to get in touch with Harlow. It was waking hours in England, after all.

  She started back toward her bedroom, and paused when she realized the door to Logan’s gym was cracked open.

  She hesitated, knowing that she shouldn’t. Knowing that she should just keep walking. She should go back to her room and contact Harlow.

  Well, maybe Harlow doesn’t want you to contact her. Maybe she’s avoiding you. Just like everyone else.

  Even Logan was avoiding her now. Since she’d gone and been far too honest about the way she felt about him. Which was ridiculous, because she hadn’t been sure she’d felt that strongly about her attraction until she spoke it out loud to him.

  A very poor decision. And in a life that had been largely void of those, it was notable. If it wasn’t so embarrassing, she might be proud of it.

  She placed her palm flat against the door, freezing for a moment, before deciding to push it open the rest of the way. Yes, Logan had warned her about this. But, in keeping with the theme of bad decisions, she might as well go all out.

  The gym was empty, dark and slightly eerie. Ropes and various equipment creating black silhouettes in the gray.

  She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, in an attempt to stave off the slight chill, the air of foreboding that was crawling over her skin.

  Across the room, a seam of light outlined the door that, Addison assumed, led to Logan’s bedroom. Heart pounding in her temples, she started across the room.

  “Don’t go toward the light,” she muttered to herself as she did just that.

  By the time she reached the door, her throat was dry and her palms were slick with sweat. But she was determined. Because for some reason, this was all entwined with her quest for self-discovery. Her quest to figure out just who Addison Treffen was.

  She didn’t know where this would end. She only knew that at least she’d chosen to be on this path. She pushed the door open and looked around.

  It was a living room area, all the furniture pushed back against the walls. The center of the room empty. Except for a blanket, rumpled up in the center of the floor. She looked toward the bathroom, then felt a draft of cold air blow through the room. She looked toward the windows, the curtains still drawn over them, the end of one floating upward in the breeze, rain sneaking beneath the heavy silk and pooling on the carpet.

  Something about it seemed wrong. And sure, he could be in his room asleep. And he might’ve just forgotten to shut the window. But for some reason, with everything she knew about Logan, with everything she’d seen of him, she doubted it.

  He did strange things
, but he did nothing by accident. Nothing was due to forgetfulness. For him, it was all a matter of survival.

  “What are you doing, Logan Black?” she said, her heart pounding hard, panic surging through her as she walked over to the windows and tugged the curtains aside. It was a door out to a balcony, rather than a window as she’d assumed.

  She moved away, from the door, and turned toward what she assumed was Logan’s bedroom. She took a deep breath and crossed the near empty space, looking inside and finding his bed empty, still made. As if he’d never been in it.

  She looked back out toward the living room, toward the curtains, being twisted by the wind. Curiosity was quickly morphing into fear. There were only so many places he could be. The man never left the Black Book.

  She walked back to the balcony door. She stepped outside, and rain whipped against her face, blowing her hair into her mouth.

  She looked back and forth and didn’t see him. Didn’t see anything. Panic scrambled up her chest and wrapped its fingers around her throat. Oh no. He was in a bad place. He’d been in a bad place. For a long time. And she imagined very few people had any idea just how bad.

  I can only take my life so seriously before I start wanting to jump off a building.

  She knew people did that. Rich people, successful people. People who looked as if they had it all together. Her father had created the kinds of demons that sent people down this path.

  And even though Jason Treffen had never touched Logan, the demons had found him all the same.

  “Damn you, Logan!” she shouted, the wind swallowing her voice, swallowing the uncharacteristic words. “If you’ve jumped off this building I will kill you!”

  She pushed her hair off her face, taking a step toward the far end of the balcony. She could see a flash of white there, barely visible against the inky black darkness.

  “Logan?” she shouted, walking closer, the wind and rain plastering her thin white T-shirt to her skin.

  Logan was crouched in the corner, his knees drawn up to his chest, his shoulders hunched forward.

  “Logan,” she said again, kneeling down beside him, her heart pounding hard. He didn’t respond. As if she weren’t there. He lifted his head and she could see his eyes, glittering in the distant city lights.

  He was asleep. Or hallucinating. Or something. Either way, he wasn’t here. And it wasn’t her he saw. This was worse than the restaurant, worse than anything she’d seen him experience.

  Before, his own personal hell had been biting at his heels. Now he had descended into it. Being consumed by the flames. And she couldn’t reach him.

  Helplessness threatened to drown her. The feeling that she was incapable of handling this, that there was nothing she could do. That she simply didn’t possess the kind of strength required to reach this man. But she needed to reach this man. So she had to find the strength.

  “Logan…please…”

  There was nothing. No sign of the man she knew. No hint of recognition. Then he looked at her, his blue eyes lit up by a flash of lightning across the sky.

  “Logan.”

  His hands shot up, fingers curling around her throat, his thumb pressing into the hollow at the base of her neck. She froze, droplets falling on her face, running down her cheeks. And for a moment, she couldn’t tell if she was crying, or if it was just rain on her face.

  His hold was firm, his grip tight. It was no surprise, considering all the time he spent in the gym.

  A strange observation possibly, but it was better than dissolving into tears. Better than giving in to terror

  She took a breath, labored beneath his hold. “Logan,” she said, forcing the words out, each sound choked. “Logan it’s me. Addison.”

  She said his name again and again. Hoping to break through the wall that seemed to be built around him, holding him in another part of the world she couldn’t see. Keeping him from seeing her.

  A hot drop of water ran down her cheek, and she knew that it was a tear. Not for herself. For him. For the hell he was living in his dreams.

  “Logan,” she said again on a sob, his name a whisper. “Come back to me.” His face. There was so much torment in that face. “Come back to me,” she said again.

  Suddenly his hands fell away from her neck, his body lurching backward into the brick wall, his eyes wide, wild, but present. His breath coming in short, harsh bursts. He didn’t say anything, he only fell forward, his hands making a hard slapping sound on the wet concrete as he continued to gasp for breath.

  She pushed her hands through his hair. “Logan. Logan…what can I do?” she asked, feeling the tears falling harder, faster. “What can I do?” She knew he’d have no answer, because she knew he didn’t know either.

  She wrapped her arms around him, grabbing hold of his wet hair and pulling him firmly against her. It didn’t escape her notice that this was the first time they’d touched. Of all the ways she fantasized about him touching her, of what his first touch might be, it hadn’t been this. His hands on her throat. Her clinging to him in the rain, afraid to let go. Afraid if she did he might do something terrible. Like jump off the building for real.

  “It’s me,” she said, again. “Nothing is going to hurt you.”

  “I know,” he said, his voice low. “I’m not afraid of that. I’m not afraid for me.”

  He jerked back from her suddenly and she slipped, her backside landing in a puddle. “Logan…”

  “Fuck.” He put his hands over his head and leaned forward. The sound that came from deep within him was a cry like a wounded animal. Terrifying. Gut-wrenching. “Fuck, I can’t…Addison…Did I hurt you?” he asked, sounding a little more clear. A little more like himself.

  “No,” she lied.

  A tremor racked his frame and she leaned in toward him, gripping his forearm, his muscles tense beneath her palms. “Logan, come on, let’s go in. It’s freezing your…clothes are soaking wet. Why are you wearing a suit?”

  “I don’t know,” he said, his words shivering along with his body.

  “Do you sleepwalk?” she asked.

  “Not normally. Anymore.”

  “So…yes, then. All right, let’s go inside.” She tugged on him and he lifted them both to their feet.

  She propelled them both back inside, and he didn’t fight against her. Her skin was chilled, her thin T-shirt doing nothing to shield her from the elements. She could only imagine how he felt. She had no idea how long he’d been out there. And honestly he could have done something…insane.

  Later, she would wonder about her boldness. About where it had come from. But right now all she cared about was making sure he was okay. To help him. And if he didn’t survive the weeks between now and then, he wouldn’t be making it to the ball.

  Considering that this was part of her job.

  But she wasn’t really thinking of it that way. Wasn’t thinking of him as a job. Right now she just saw him as another person in astronomical pain. Someone else who was lost. Who felt alone. In such a short amount of time, he had come to mean so much.

  It didn’t make sense. She’d known Nora, Harlow…the girls in her sorority for years and yet holding them at a distance, keeping her reserve intact was easy. More than that, it was impossible to react any other way. But with Logan there was no choice. He’d compromised her reserve from the start, and today he’d demolished it. Tonight? Tonight she feared he’d nearly demolished her. It was beyond her understanding, but then, her entire life didn’t make sense. Why should this?

  “First things first.” She tugged him toward the bathroom and turned on the shower, hot water coming out almost immediately, steam starting to fill the room.

  She pushed him inside, in his slacks and white shirt, and followed him in, closing the glass door behind them, her arms wrapped around his chest as she kept him directly beneath the hot water.

  Neither of them spoke. She just leaned her head against his back as the water ran over them both.

  “I wasn’t supposed to to
uch you,” he said, his voice rough, full of regret. He was shivering, the violent shaking punctuating each word. “I wasn’t ever supposed to touch you.”

  “And now you have.”

  “You shouldn’t be here with me. You shouldn’t touch me.”

  “What? Like this?” She moved her hands over his chest. “It’s too late, the damage is done.”

  He swore, the sound harsh in the small space.

  “Turn and face me.”

  He obeyed. With unsteady fingers she started unbuttoning his shirt, the wet fabric completely transparent now. She had never undressed a man before. And she certainly hadn’t imagined her first time doing so being anything like this.

  “In another situation I might have thanked you for the wet dress shirt contest. But I’m thinking that’s slightly inappropriate right now.”

  “Possibly,” he said, helping her shove the shirt from his shoulders, the wet fabric clinging to his skin. He threw it to the corner of the shower. She decided it would be best for everyone if she left his pants on.

  She watched the shift of his muscles, the water rolling over every dip and swell. Emphasizing the perfect definition of each hard line of his body. He was the most beautiful, dangerous creature she had ever seen. A smart person knew to run away from dangerous creatures. She was, apparently, the type of person who didn’t run. Who stood entranced by the beauty before her, uncaring about the potential threat posed.

  He turned away from her again and she leaned her head against his back, her body pressed against his, as she listened to his heartbeat, growing steadier, growing slower.

  “What do you see?” she asked. “When you’re there, wherever you go, what is it you see?”

  He took a deep breath, his back rising and falling beneath her cheek. “I can’t tell you.”

  She lifted her hand and traced the trail left behind by a water droplet. She knew she had no right to touch him like this. Like a lover. It was all under the guise of care, but for her, it could never just be that.

  But he had put his hands around her neck. For some reason, in her mind, she felt as if this gave her some rights to his body. “Why?”