Page 147 of Logan
I walk down the hallway where I saw Logan vanish earlierand peer into the open room. Anticipation buzzes in my veins as I step over the threshold.
The Dark Lord’s bedroom suits him. The entire room is black, gray and white, without a hint of true color, except for a bouquet in a vase on the nightstand.
The enormous bed in the center is covered in black sheets, and I have the sudden urge to sprawl across the dark silk to see if it smells like him.
I enter and peek through the interior doors. My curiosity gets the better of me.
A huge walk-in closet full of black suits arranged like soldiers. Black shoes in a row on a stand on the floor. There’s not a speck of dust or clutter here, and not a speck of color either.
It’s like stepping into a monochromatic photograph. I wonder what Logan thinks of my messy home. Chaos to his order.
I touch nothing and move on to the second door. A bathroom about the size of my apartment, equipped with every possible amenity. The temptation to get in the tub is high, but curiosity wins out, and I continue my tour. Eager to uncover more of the man I’ve fallen for.
I find a gym, two more bedrooms, and an office. And when I enter the next room, my breath catches. I freeze, eyes widening in wonder.
A library. Heaven.
Dark shelves filled with books cover the walls. The room looks disconnected from the modern apartment. As if I’ve sunk into the past, into a magical world of books.
The scent of leather and aged paper wraps around me likea comforting embrace. It’s more beautiful than the bookstore we visited in London.
The wall covered in pink, turquoise, white and black books catches my attention, drawing me closer. It doesn’t look like it belongs here. My fingers itch to skim over the colorful spines.
“What the hell?” I mutter, my fingers hovering over all the familiar romance novels. “He even has K. Winter’s new book that hasn’t come out yet! She’s my favorite author. How did he get it?
I pull it from the shelf and embrace it. Oh my God. Could all of this be for me? My heart squeezes at the thought. I open the book and nearly drop it as shock steals my breath.
“What? How?” I stroke the signature and personal dedication from the author.
To Sloane,
Logan is going to be a character in my next book, but he’ll be the reality of your life.
(And if you’re wondering, he forced me to do this.)
Kisses, K.
“How did he know?”
A ringing startles me, and I return the book to its place and try to locate the source of the noise until I realize it’s coming from a device resting on the kitchen table. I press a button, and the screen comes to life.
A man in his fifties dressed in a security guard uniformappears on the screen. “Hello, I have a delivery for Mr. Valeur.” He holds up a white box.
“Oh, hi. Mr. Valeur isn’t here right now. I’m a guest in his apartment. I, uh...” Can I say I’m his girlfriend? I’m not sure. And why am I trying to explain?
“Would you like me to bring the package upstairs, Ma’am, or will you come down to get it?”
I don’t know where the key to the apartment or elevator is or how to get to the lobby. “Yes, I’d appreciate it if you could bring it up.”
The call disconnects, and within five minutes, the guard appears at the door holding the white box. “Here you go, ma’am.” The moment I take the package, he disappears again.
I place the box on the table and peek at it. Curiosity burns hot under my skin. Will Logan kill me if I look inside?
He said I’m allowed to snoop.
I open it and narrow my eyes. Confusion furrows my brow as I take in the contents. What the hell?
Chapter Forty-Three
