Page 77 of The Secret Heir Next Door

"Yeah, just a little… out of my element, I guess," I admit, forcing a smile.

He steps closer, his hand finding the small of my back. The touch is light, but it sends a shiver through me. "Don’t be. You look amazing. Besides, who cares what anyone else thinks? I brought you here because I wanted to, not to fit some mold."

"You sure? Because I feel like I should’ve borrowed a ball gown or something."

He chuckles. "Trust me, you’re perfect just the way you are. Plus, I like the fact that you don’t look like everyone else here. Makes you stand out in the best way."

I roll my eyes, but I can’t help the smile tugging at my lips. "Flattery will get you everywhere, you know."

"Good. That’s the plan," he says with a wink, guiding me toward our table.

As we walk, I catch sight of us in one of the tall mirrors lining the walls. Logan is all sharp angles and tailored lines, and I’m this swirl of color and softness beside him. Somehow, it works.

We’re led to a table near the back, away from the main crowd but still within view of the whole room. I take a seat, trying not to fidget as I smooth out my dress. Logan sits across from me, his eyes never leaving mine.

"So, what do you think?" he asks, his voice low and intimate, as if we’re the only two people here.

"It’s beautiful," I say honestly. "A little intimidating, but beautiful."

"Want me to start throwing bread rolls at people? That should break the tension."

I laugh. "Please don’t. I’d rather not get kicked out before we even order."

"Alright, you win this round. But the offer stands if you change your mind."

"Good to know," I reply, still smiling as I pick up the menu. The dishes are all in French, and though I took a couple of years in high school, I’m pretty sure I’ve forgotten most of it.

Logan seems to notice my hesitation. "Need any help? Or should we just pick the most expensive thing and pretend we know what it is?"

I raise an eyebrow. "Do you really not know what any of this says?"

He shrugs, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I know enough to get by. But where’s the fun in that?"

"Logan, I swear…"

"Okay, okay," he says, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "Let’s see… I’d recommend thecoq au vin. It’s a classic, and I think you’d like it."

I narrow my eyes at him. "You’re not just saying that to get me to try something weird, are you?"

"I would never," he says with mock offense. "Well, not tonight, anyway."

I can’t help but laugh again. "Alright,coq au vinit is. I trust you."

Logan’s eyes soften, and he reaches across the table, his hand brushing against mine. "Thanks."

It’s a simple word, but it carries weight. I look at him—really look at him—and there’s something in his gaze that makes my heart skip a beat. The air between us seems to thicken, the noise of the restaurant fading into the background. For a moment, it’s just the two of us, connected by more than just a touch.

A sudden flash breaks the spell, and I blink, disoriented. I glance around, but no one seems to be paying us any attention. Still, the moment is gone, leaving a strange sense of unease in its wake.

Logan frowns, his hand pulling back. "Did you see that?"

"Yeah," I say slowly, still scanning the room. "It was probably nothing. Maybe someone taking a picture of their food or something."

"Maybe," Logan says, but he doesn’t sound convinced. He glances around one more time before shaking his head. "Sorry about that. Where were we?"

"You were about to tell me all your deep, dark secrets."

"You first."

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