“I mean it, Chrissy,” he says in that deep, commanding tone again. “You’re mine, understand?”
I nod without thinking, hardly wanting my eyes to come back into focus but needing to see him so close.
Needing to savor the moment of him touching me again, no matter how slight.
The elevator door opens silently and the light from outside comes streaming in, but neither of us moves to exit. I can feel the wide-open space, the luxury beyond the elevator, but I don’t think either of us wants to break this moment.
His hand on my arm gives a little squeeze and after what feels like forever, he asks me, “Shall we?”
I manage to move my eyes from his and follow the line of his outstretched hand, gasping again, but this time from the sight and size of what I guess must be Logan’s office.
There’s a single, frosted glass wall with a solid door nearby the elevator, in a kind of small foyer within the whole space.
At a glance, I can tell it leads to the outside world, his army of secretaries, and ‘people.’ But the rest of the space, the huge desk and bank of floor to ceiling windows floating on the plush carpet, I know by instinct belong to Logan.
It is Logan…
The smell, the feel, and the presence of everything. It’s like the man himself has cast his hand over an empty space and left a complete impression of his commanding energy, his personality, and his powerful sense of style and taste.
Not to mention luxury.
I’m almost scared to breathe, but the view from the windows is too much, and against my own inhibitions which I feel crumbling by the second, I trot over and practically press my nose to the glass.
We must be on the very top floor, with a view of the city that spans right out to the ocean on one side, and knuckles of gnarled hills way off in the distance on the other.
“It’s just beautiful!” I hear myself exclaiming, not even believing I live in the same city that has such a view.
“It most certainly is,” I hear him saying, another low sound coming from him and making me turn, realizing he hasn’t been looking at the view at all, just me.
I blush with embarrassment, and as he steps closer I suddenly feel out of place. Like a cheap item returned to the wrong shelf, along with all the high-end stuff.
I feel… I feel…
“What do you feel?” he asks me, reading my mind again and taking one final, long stride and landing his feet in front of me, so close I can feel the heat from his body, the warm spice of his cologne melting into me.
My eyes drift to a bank of huge screens, part of the subtle division between Logan’s office and what must be his personal living space.
I do a quick double-take, confused by the sight of my dad until it registers that it must be a live feed from the local news, another screen has the same story.
National news.
My dad looks nervous, but he’s doing his best to answer questions, surrounded by girls my age and their proud looking fathers.
“I didn’t mean to throw him to the wolves,” Logan says softly, inhaling as he leans in closer.
My head is turned to the screens, but I know he’s smelling my hair.
I turn quickly, the volume of the press conference fills the room, making me jump again. But the closeness of Logan cancels all that out.
He’s leaning over, and I find myself leaning up. Our faces getting closer.
Chapter Four
Logan
I’m not doing anything. Not really.
If you put a strong magnet next to the right thing it can’t be stopped.
A force of nature. A universal principle.
The same way I generated every opportunity, every little piece of wealth that gathered into an unstoppable force, I feel the same thing with Chrissy, only stronger.
Out of my control though, almost.
“Do you believe in destiny?” I ask her, wanting nothing more than to just grab her. Take her in my arms and throw her over my shoulder, taking her where I know she belongs right now.
On her back in my bed. Our bed.
She’s about to either nod or close her eyes as I decide to go in for a kiss.
Fuck it, she’s gonna be mine and I have to stake my claim quick. I can’t have her walking around alone anymore… unless?
The thought strikes panic in me, creating a new ripple across my heart.
What if she’s already got a boyfriend?
Engaged even?
I mean, for god’s sake, look at her! How could she not be?
But both of our trains of thought are interrupted.
The questions and answers from the TV are not so much loud, as arresting in their content, which makes Chrissy stop and me growl low with anger.
“…Mr. Foster? How do you feel about your own daughter being selected from so many to be the face of Father-Daughter week at Logan Industries?” A reporter asks, an edge in her own voice, which tells me she’s not quite finished asking.
Charles Foster, Chrissy’s dad does a fine job, answering swiftly and clearly. Confidently.
“I’m thrilled, we all are. It’s a great incentive to highlight the future of young women, all women in the workplace and-“
But the reporter has only just started.
“So, Logan Foster wanting to screen young women and then spend time with them… alone… including your own daughter, this doesn’t bother you? As a father, I mean.”
I’m about to ask Chrissy if she has a boyfriend. About to kiss her either way to stake my claim on her.
Hearing some reporter insinuate the unthinkable isn’t what I have in mind.
What I want is to be the father of our children. Our family.
It’s the only thing I’ve thought of since seeing her precious face and then finally seeing her in person. I’m done. I know what I want, no matter what.
Chrissy’s eyes widen, then narrow. Her whole body turning to the screen, taking steps as her dad stammers for a moment before he answers.
“Father-Daughter day is
