Auctioned to the Bad Boy CEO

“Of course, she’s your daughter. She calls you Papa, for fuck’s sake, and besides she’s the spitting image of you apart from her eyes. I’m assuming they’re her mother’s. Where is she by the way? What the hell happened to that little girl, and you best tell me the truth or I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Logan interrupted her, and she took an involuntary step back at the fury behind those few words, as he addressed her. He looked as angry as he’d been when he hit that guy, not that he hadn’t deserved it. She could still feel the other man’s lecherous gaze running over her, and bile rose in her throat. That look and his accompanying words had made her feel so dirty, as though she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Which simply wasn’t true. There were no rules against sleeping with your boss, and gah, she was such a fucking cliché.

How had she ended up in this position, freezing her butt off on a balcony at the Savoy, facing down her furious boss while wearing nothing but his shirt? Her back hit the rough stone of the wall, and she swallowed hard when he closed the distance. One hand either side of her head, Logan crowded her in, and her traitorous body responded to his nearness with predictable results. At least she wasn’t cold anymore, not pressed against him as she was, so close that she could feel him harden against her belly. Logan inhaled sharply and rested his forehead on hers.

“Why do I still fucking want you this much?”

It wasn’t a question that required an answer. It sounded more like a plea, and echoed her own frustrating emotions so clearly that her anger fled.

“Your daughter, she…” Hannah couldn’t continue, because his entire body tensed, and a deep animalistic growl came from the big chest she was pressed against.

“For the last time, woman, she is not my daughter.” He pulled back just enough to glare down on her, and there was no denying the sincerity of his reply. Hannah swallowed, licked her lips, and nodded.

“Fine, if she’s not your daughter, then—”

“She’s my niece, Hannah.” He pulled away and stared back out over the view. “I have an identical twin brother. He’s currently rotting in prison for having beaten her mother into a coma, so it falls to me to look after her.” He paused at the gasp, which Hannah couldn’t help but utter, and gave a short, grim laugh. “She was there when it happened, hid in the wardrobe, hence the nightmares.”

He glanced into the suite, and Hannah followed suit. Rhia was still drawing. Her little tongue had come out in her concentration, and Hannah’ eyes filled with tears at the horror of the situation, an echo of her own past. At least she’d had her sister. Poor Rhia’d had no one.

“That’s … I’m so sorry.”

Logan swung back around, and the grief edged in his features took her breath away.

“Why?”

“Why what?” she responded in kind, not at all sure what he was getting at.

“This is why I don’t make a habit of telling people. They’re always fucking sorry. Why? You’re not the one who used his fists on her mother. You’re not the one who should have seen this coming. You’re not the one who ignored the bruises he saw, believed the excuses, and didn’t step in until it was too fucking late. You’re not the one who introduced one of his best friends to his brother. You’re not, fuck … I can’t do this now.”

Logan’s voice broke, and in a move so fast she never saw it coming he punched the wall behind her.

The dull thud and his accompanying grunt of pain should have scared the bejesus out of her, should have made her run far away from him, but instead she grasped his fist and dropped a kiss on the swollen and bleeding knuckles.

“Then don’t, and stop hurting yourself. You’ll only scare her more than she already is, and it won’t change anything. Trust me, I know.”

Logan made a rough sound at the back of his throat and pulled his hand away. He flexed it few times and winced.

“You should put some ice on that,” Hannah said.

“I should do a lot of things.”

He closed himself off again. She could almost see the bricks going up around him, as he stared off into the distance.

“None of this is your problem, Hannah. You didn’t sign up for this, so I’ll call you a cab or something. I’m—”

“You’ll do no such thing, Logan Bryce. Besides, no doubt my dress is ruined, and if you think for one minute that I’ll be doing the walk of shame out of here in that dress, and at this hour, you’ve got another think coming.”

His lips quirked up into the semblance of a smile at her outburst.

“What are you going to wear then? Leaving in my shirt will cause even more tongues to wag, I wager.”

Some of his usual arrogance returned with that statement, and Hannah breathed a silent sigh of relief.

“I know that. I was more thinking that the butler service that comes with these suites will be able to go and procure some jeans and a top for me once the shops are open. Lord knows, I’ve dealt with the bills for that sort of thing often enough for some of our more illustrious clients who stay here, so I can’t see any reason why I shouldn’t take advantage of that for myself. And then, there’s Rhia. I promised her we’d flush those bad dreams down the toilet, and she looks as though she’s done.”

Sure enough, the little girl looked up at that moment and gave an almighty yawn.

“She looks exhausted,” Logan said and then opened the doors and strode back in the living area, leaving Hannah no choice but to follow.