“Give me your key, then get out.”
Hope was in its death throes, flopping around his features like a fish out of water. He sighed and pulled the key from his pocket, seemingly giving up. He tried to fake me out, holding on to it when I reached to take it, forcing me to step closer. “This can't be it, Mel.”
I gave him a look and he let go, severing the last thing that tied us together. “Don't come back here. Ever.”
As I watched Jason go, a crazy calm settled over me. I couldn’t go on like this. I couldn’t live, couldn’t function until I made things right with Logan.
CHAPTER SIX
San Francisco never failed to take my breath away. There was something about crossing the bridge, cars pulling toward the hills lined with life that made my heart race with excitement. I expected the nerves to take over at any moment. Anyone with a lick of sense saw right through me calling in sick to work. The cars were packed so tightly in the narrow lanes that one error could cause a serious crash.
And tucked in the Financial District was Mason Acquisitions.
I was only a few minutes away from the one person in the whole world that got me. Every part of me. And he had the power to chew up my heart and spit it out. He could take one look at me and tell me that we were through. Hell, he didn't even have to let me as far as the elevator before he had me removed like...like...
The DJ sprung onto the airwaves, her voice a mix between a woman who smoke a pack of cigarettes a day for twenty years and a bubbly teenager.
“And the latest development in the most talked about baby since Kimye, Delilah James is pulling us along for her real life fairytale. Reportedly, she claims she's still madly in love with billionaire Logan Mason and even if they can't work out their issues, she'll always have a little piece of him.” The DJ cued a sound effect, the studio audience sighing 'awww' and twisting my stomach in a knot. I punched the power button.
The world had 'Delogan' fever. Delilah James played her part, the lovelorn mother-to-be who would stand by her man even if she was standing all alone. She was clearly the good guy in this story and Logan was becoming more and more villainous with every interview she gave. Recently, she'd even brought a battalion of paparazzi right to his doorstep, but security wouldn't let her further than the lobby. She'd come back out with tears streaming down her face, clutching her chest like she'd expire at any moment. Anyone else would have looked pathetic. Delilah James made sobbing look glamorous.
Logan looked like he was sucking on a lemon in every picture and screen grab I saw, handsome features tight and obscured by his scowl, or using his hand or suit jacket to hide his face.
What would he say when he saw me? Would he see me at all, or just have me escorted back outside like his ex?
I drummed my fingertips on the steering wheel. Happy thoughts...sand between my toes, sun warm on my skin, Logan staring at me over the rim of his shades like I was his paradise in the flesh. The nerves just amplified, goose flesh making me shiver.
I bit my lip as I turned into a parking garage a couple of blocks away from Mason Acquisitions. I flipped the visor down, staring at my reflection. My face was flushed, but I knew there was no point whipping out my makeup bag. My blond hair was tousled, the waves on their best behavior for once. I glossed on a bit of Chapstick and stepped out of the car. I tied my trench closed, and held my head high as I marched toward the exit. After a Mini Cooper almost took me out, I maneuvered onto the sidewalk, pointed toward Logan's building. Even if I hadn't memorized the street crossing and address, it would have been difficult to miss it. People were huddled near the entrance, a couple of them wielding big, fancy looking cameras, their movements jerky and caffeinated. As I approached their eyes all rippled in my direction, probably trying to determine if I was someone worth knowing. They dropped me once they realized I wasn't, their hawkish eyes batting between the entrance and the steady stream of people on the sidewalk. I rotated through the revolving door, dumped into the lobby.
“Wow,” I whispered, the word echoing around the expansive room. I expected a lobby not much different from the one at Kaleidoscope Marketing. Neutral tones and potted plants and a security guard that barely grunted hello. The Mason Acquisitions lobby was like a work of art. Marble floors, vaulted ceilings and a chandelier dangled overhead with crystals sparkling like diamonds. Framed art work and glass sculptures surrounded me and fresh, lush flowers beckoned with floral scents that I wanted to inhale and keep with me forever—but a security guard stood like a mountain in my way, preventing me from taking one step further.
He didn't even ask for my purpose, or if I had an appointment, his beady eyes just bore holes into me like lasers.
I took a nervous step backward. “I-I need to see Logan Mason.”
“Name?” he barked.
“Melissa Foster. But I—” He didn't wait for me to finish, putting his finger to his earpiece and saying my name. “I don't have a—”
“There's no Melissa Foster on the approved list.” His voice darkened. “You can leave, or I can put you on the other side of the door.”
I gulped, taking another step back. He could snap me in half, without breaking a sweat. Even if I had the guts to tell him my story and how I needed to see Logan or my world would stop turning, I think he'd just pick me up and drag me out the exit, kicking and screaming.
You came all this way. You're not gonna even try?
I looked into the man's unsmiling face as he posed the question a second, and final time. “What will it be, kid? You gonna leave on your own, or will I be escorting you out?”
I sniffed and gathered my wits about me. Kicking and screaming. “I have to see Logan. It's very important.”
“Have it your way.” He gripped my elbow, not-so-gently yanking me toward the revolving door. The paparazzi were watching, some in awe of my balls, some just amused at the show.
I dug the heels of my flats in, forcing my body limp. “If you could just tell him I'm here—”
“Jake! She's clear!”
I looked over my shoulder at a statuesque woman that was scurrying over toward us. She was clad in a black blouse and black slacks. Her chestnut colored hair cropped short, intensifying her big brown eyes and cheekbones. She flashed me a smile that dried the tears of frustration that filled my eyes. We hadn't even officially met, but it was a smile shared between the best of friends.
Jake had stopped dragging me toward the exit, but his hold was firm as he wheeled me to face the woman. “Mr. Mason was clear, Ms. DeLaurentis. Anyone who isn't on the list—”