Page 113 of Logan
“My office. Now.” His voice is clipped, colder than I’ve ever heard it.
I blink, taken aback by his tone. “I just got here. Can I get settled and be there in a few minutes?”
“Now, Sloane.” He hangs up before I can respond, the dial tone droning in my ear like an accusation.
I stare at the receiver in my hand, my mind racing. What did I mess up? He’s never spoken to me like this, never been anything but warm and approachable.
I open my calendar, scanning for any meetings I might’ve missed, any deadlines I let slip by. There’s nothing, just the usual morning check-ins and project updates.
Dread curls in my gut as I make my way to Liam’s office, each step feeling like a march to the gallows. I hesitate outside his door, my hand poised to knock.
I take a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. Whatever it is, it’s serious. Liam doesn’t do curt summons and icy tones, not unless something is very, very wrong.
“Hey,” I say as I step inside, my voice sounding small and uncertain to my own ears.
“Please close the door.” He doesn’t look at me, his gaze fixed on his computer screen, his jaw clenched tight.
I do as he asks, the click of the latch loud in the tense silence. I perch on the edge of the chair across from him, my hands clasped in my lap to hide their trembling.
Without a word, Liam turns his screen toward me and presses play. For a moment, I don’t understand what I’m seeing—it’s dark, the image grainy and indistinct. But then a noise fills the room, a breathy moan, and ice shoots through my veins as realization dawns.
It’s me. That’s my voice, my gasp of pleasure echoing in the quiet office. And that’s Logan, his distinctive build and dark hair as he moves over me, into me, his hips snapping in a frantic rhythm I remember all too well.
I watch, frozen in mute horror, as the scene plays out. My face is only partially visible behind Logan’s shoulders, but there’s no mistaking the ecstasy contorting my features, the wanton arch of my spine as I writhe beneath him. His head is bent, his face hidden, and his employee ID badge swinging with each forceful thrust, glinting in the low light.
No. This can’t be happening. It has to be a nightmare, a horrible, sickening nightmare.
The video keeps playing, my cries rising in pitch andurgency, my exposed breast bouncing as Logan drives into me.
“Stop it,” I choke out. “Please, God, stop it.”
Liam clicks pause, and the image freezes, a damning tableau of shame and ruin. Bile rises in my throat, and I swallow, fighting the urge to vomit all over his expensive rug.
“There are cameras in the office?” I ask, my voice trembling. Surely Logan would’ve known, would’ve never risked...
“No.” Liam meets my gaze dead on, his eyes hard and accusing. “There are no cameras. This video was emailed to me from an anonymous address. Do you confirm that’s you?”
“Emailed?” I echo, my head spinning. Who would’ve filmed us? Who else saw...? I can’t breathe, can’t think past the panic clawing at my throat. “I don’t... Why would someone...?”
“Is it you, Sloane?” Liam cuts me off, impatience sharpening his tone. “It’s a simple question.”
I bite the inside of my cheek until I taste blood, the pain grounding me. “If I say yes,” I whisper, hating the wobble in my words, “what happens to me? Are you firing me?”
Liam sighs, running a hand over his face. He looks tired, older than his years. “Believe me, I wish I’d never seen this damn video. You’re one of our best, Sloane, and I don’t want to lose you. But it’s not just me. This was sent to others, higher-ups. My hands are tied.”
A sob rises in my throat, and I swallow it down. “Who?” I rasp. “Who else got it?”
“The head of HR, the head of Valeur-Tech, the head of Valeur Industries.”
Meaning Liam, Nicholas, Logan, and his father? I can’t breathe.
Oh God. Logan’s father saw me naked, fucked on a desk? I want to die. I want the earth to open up and swallow me whole.
And Logan... Where is he? Why isn’t he here, facing this with me? Did he know about the video? Is he throwing me to the wolves to save his own skin?
“You violated company policy,” Liam says, his voice distant through the roaring in my ears. “There will be disciplinary action. Possibly even charges of sexual misconduct.”
My head snaps up at that, indignation piercing through the haze of despair and humiliation. “Misconduct? How is it misconduct? I didn’t harass anyone, I didn’t coerce him, he?—”
