Page 21 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

I cringe as images crash into my mind, the taste of bile flickering at the back of my throat.

“No?” I say, wishfully.

Logan smiles. “We took you upstairs. Discreetly,” he says, his hand steady against my lower back. “The girls cleaned you up and put you to bed. I slept on the couch.”

I inhale deeply, letting his words sink in, and with them, memories surface—Goldie, Tesla, the three of us crammed into a bathroom, their voices soothing as I hovered over the toilet.

Relief washes over me, my stomach untangling from the tight knot it’s been in all day. But there’s still one thing left. “And my dress?” I ask.

“I sent it to be cleaned,” Logan says. “It should be delivered to your suite by tomorrow, if it’s not there already.”

“Then… nothing happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

I exhale, releasing the last of the tension coiled in my spine over what could have happened.

What I almost… gave up.

“What’s the matter, kitty?” Logan asks. “You seem disappointed.”

“No. I—” My gaze flicks to his, his smirk lazy and confident. “I’m just surprised.”

He says nothing. He just watches me, giving me all the time I need to process this—to see him in a different light.

A side of him I didn’t know existed.

A side that is impossibly kind, despite everything I thought I knew.

“Thank you, Logan,” I say.

“You’re welcome,” he says, his eyes sweeping slowly over my face. “You play the violin beautifully, by the way. You should play it more often.”

I blink in surprise, my heart stumbling over itself. His words settle deep, warming something in me I hadn’t realized was cold.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Then, a prickle at the base of my neck, creeping up my spine like a warning.

His eyes. Watching me. I’ve felt them before—andrecently.

The ceremony. That uneasy sense of being watched.

It was?—

“Logan.”

Knox appears at my side. His jaw is tight, his fists clenched like he’s seconds away from throwing them.

“Get your hands off my sister.”

The force—and volume—of his voice ripples through the crowd. Couples slow their sways. Heads turn. Whispers stir the air all around us.

Logan smirks but releases me, lifting his hands in mock surrender. “Whatever you say, Knox.”

I don’t move, frozen in the eye of a storm, caught between Knox’s fury and Logan’s calm.

Jonah strides over, Marla a step behind him. “What are you doing here, Shock?” Jonah asks, his voice edged with warning.

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