CHAPTER ONE
Logan
The server had to ask me twice before I cleared my throat and ordered a Perrier. Food, drink, the drama with Delilah--none of it mattered when I was sitting across from Melissa.
My submissive.
The woman I let in my bed...and my heart.
When Melissa’s bright blue eyes dropped to the menu in her hands, tongue smoothing over her lips like she could taste the items with perfect clarity, desire stirred inside me. She made everything else go quiet. She was the calm after the storm.
"And for you, ma'am?" the server chirped.
Melissa’s gaze flickered to me, a moment of silence passing between us. I arched an eyebrow, and she followed suit.
"Not ordering for me whether I like it or not?"
My lips pulled into a smirk that was just for us. "Trust me, the next time I give an order, you'll like it."
Red colored her cheeks as she snapped the menu in the direction of our server. "A-A mocha, please. And a croissant." Once the waitress dashed away to put in our order, Melissa's eyes narrowed. "Stop looking at me like we're not in a restaurant, surrounded by people. People that will mind if you do what your eyes are hinting at--which is bend me over the table."
I reached for her hand, my fingertips stroking her skin. I drank in the shiver that echoed through her. "I don't care if we're in a restaurant or standing on the Golden Gate Bridge. You're gorgeous, and you're mine. If these past two weeks taught me anything, it's that I can't take my eyes off you. And for the record, I’m using every ounce of self control to hold back my desire to sweep everything off the table-"
Her eyes bulged knowingly.
“I guess I don’t need to finish the thought,” I grinned.
“Logan!” she hissed, cheeks darkening.
God, I loved her.
How was this possible? How could she make it all go away, just by existing? One smile from her and something in me believed that everything would be alright.
She twirled a blonde strand lazily around her finger. Not in the ditzy, coy way I was used to from other women, eyes vacant as they tried futilely to convince me that our connection was more than it was. Melissa's eyes were pensive, taking it all in like she was genuinely in awe of every moment. She didn't take a single thing for granted.
She drummed her fingertips on the white linen tablecloth, eyes shooting to the crystal chandelier overhead. "The lighting, the lack of prices on the menu, the paintings on the wall-" Her evaluation came to a halt as she cleared her throat, snatching her hands into her lap.
"Is something wrong?" I asked quickly, ready to move heaven and earth if that would make her happy. Stroll right out the door if she was dissatisfied with the cafe. The back door, because even with our table nestled away from prying eyes, I knew the photographers were out front, dying for a shot of us together. Photographic evidence that I was the billionaire playboy, abandoning my child in favor of my latest conquest.
"No," she answered, gaze settling on me. "It's just when you said 'cafe' I guess I pictured something a little less fancy. Which was dumb because you're--well, you know what you are."
I cleared my face of all emotion. I knew what she was getting at, but I couldn't resist playing with her a little. "And what, pray tell, am I?"
Her nostrils flared. "Rich. Filthy rich."
The only word that mattered was filthy. My body could care less that we were out in public, c**k hardened to rock with memories of her stretched out on my desk, her silken wetness wrapped around me as I took her.
"You think you're slick," she said, twisting her golden strands until they spilled over one shoulder.
Another word that had me gripping the arm of my chair, struggling to keep my composure.
Slick.
My thoughts must have been clear as day because she gave me a demure smile that clutched her hot little mouth. "I know exactly what you're doing. It's the same thing I'm doing, talking about this cafe, while you're screwing me with your gaze, thinking about what happened in your office. We’re both ignoring the elephant in the room." Her smile wavered. "Delilah."
That word snatched all the air from my sails and breathed fire into my lungs. The good mood, the false sense of happiness because Melissa was back and all was right in the world, was turned to cinder and smoke.
I was no fool. Delilah was more than some looming thing that I struggled to ignore. There was no ignoring the damn soap opera my life had become. It started with Amanda's call two weeks ago, and I'd been barreling down the highway to hell ever since.
I barely had time to catch my breath when I found out Delilah James was carrying our child--and she decided the best way to break the news to me was to break it to the world. I'd lost my mind a little, punched a mirror like a petulant boy, and let Melissa run away when she told me what was in her heart. Truth be told, it was the same thing that was in my heart, but how could I say those words, change my entire world, after Delilah dropped the bomb that I was going to be a father?
No, Delilah was more than the elephant in the room. She was the poison in my system. Eating away at the happiness I thought was finally mine. Chaining me to her forever, whether I was ready for the responsibility or not. At the end of the day, no matter what lies she told to sell magazines or garner clicks, I would be a part of this kid's life. He or she would know me and never want for a thing.
Melissa was watching, waiting for my response. Expecting a joke most likely. I was no longer in a joking mood.
"What would you like to do?"
Her eyes dropped to the table, then slowly drew back up to meet mine. "I'd like to know what comes next. With Delilah and the...baby."
Something in my chest tightened at the look that soured her face. She could barely say the 'b' word. I knew it was unfair to expect her to be delighted by the situation, to overcompensate by talking about baby showers and family trips. Those things were enough to make my head spin. Considering our whirlwind romance, any other woman would have abandoned ship. I wouldn't run from my child, but it wasn't her cross to bear. Yet Melissa was still here. Hell, she escaped the three-ring circus and came back for more.
So I calmed the flare of indignation that whipped inside me and answered her question.
"My people are in contact with her people-"
"Really?" Melissa cut in incredulously. "Isn't that the standard industry brush off? You don't think you need to sit down with Delilah, one on one?"
"What a great idea!" I exclaimed, dialing up the sarcasm to a fever pitch. "I can't believe I didn't think of it myself, considering I am intimately acquainted with Delilah James."