“I’m sure it’s nothing,” Brontë reiterated. “I can tell from the look on your face that you’re worried, but these things happen all the time.”
“What business did you say he was in?” Logan asked, his mouth a firm line.
Marjorie felt a twinge of nervousness, as if her aborted date with Rob had somehow messed up Logan’s evening as well. “I uh . . . well, he said business. I never really pried too much because Rob said he was on vacation.”
Logan’s cool gaze continued to assess her. “I see.”
“M-maybe I should have asked him?” Gosh, how was Brontë marrying this icy man? He was scaring the pants off of her tonight. It was odd how he could be so very warm to his fiancée and so controlled to the rest of the world. “It just never really came up. I—”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Logan said, cutting her off. “And I have an idea,” he said, turning to Brontë. “Since it’s both of you ladies, why don’t you see if Violet and Maylee are free tonight and take them with you to the restaurant? I’m sure they’d love to join you. You know they probably feel as if Gretchen is monopolizing your time.”
“Oh, no. Do you think so?” Brontë looked concerned. “They’re all my friends. I don’t want anyone to feel left out.”
“I’m sure they’re not,” Marjorie reassured her, pushing back her own concerns. “And we don’t have to make it a girls’ night out just because my date canceled. It’s really not necessary.”
“I insist,” Logan said, and he gave them both a smile that was both charming and predatory at once. “I have unfinished business to attend to myself, and should probably beg off.” He leaned in and whispered into Brontë’s ear for a long moment.
Eventually, she nodded. “Well, if you’re sure,” Brontë said. “We’ll miss you.”
Logan pulled her against him and gave her a tender kiss. “I’m sure, love. Call the girls. Go enjoy yourselves.” His eyes gleamed. “Business calls.”
***
Tucked away at a desk in Smith’s room, Rob lost himself in work. His inbox was endless. Lawsuits, tabloids, ratings drops, ratings increases, advertisers, unhappy advertisers, people wanting to advertise . . . he should have been able to concentrate on it. To tear through things as he normally did.
But he kept thinking about Marjorie. How she’d been waiting for him, radiant . . . and he’d stood her up like a coward and was now in hiding.
What a fucking chicken he was.
He knew it, and yet, if the other option was hurting her, he’d be a goddamn chicken if he had to. Anything to avoid hurting Marjorie’s feelings and ruining her time on vacation. So maybe it was cowardly of him, but he had a reason, and a purpose.
“Sir?” Smith asked, interrupting him from his work-slash-mooning.
Rob looked up, removing his headphones and closing his laptop. “What is it?”
“Gortham is staked out on the fourth floor, and he says that Logan Hawkings is hovering at the doorstep to your old suite. He’s making calls trying to locate you.”
Ah, so Logan had come sniffing after him after all. Figured. The asshole just couldn’t resist, could he? “I’ll go up and say hello.”
“Are you sure that’s wise, sir?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s not, but it needs to be done.” Plus, he wasn’t a coward. Logan wasn’t the one he was hiding from, not really. It was Marjorie, and the knowledge that he really, really wasn’t good enough for her and wanted her anyway.
So he headed up the elevator, back toward his old room—the one Logan had kicked him out of so politely—and strolled down the hall.
Logan was still there, phone to his ear. He turned, spotted Rob, and hung up his phone. He stalked down the hall toward Rob, a contrast from his own strolling, forced casual steps. “I might have known you were still here, you piece of shit.”
“Hawkings,” he said broadly, extending his arms in a fake hug. “Come on. You kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“I thought I told you to leave,” Logan snarled. “But no, you decided to play like a dirty dick when you didn’t get your way.”
Irritation sparked, even though Rob knew it shouldn’t have bothered him. He’d been called worse. “Actually, not at all—”
“Going after a sweet, innocent girl just to worm your way into a meeting with me? Don’t you think you’ve gone a little far with that?”
“Now wait just a goddamn minute—”
Logan threw his hands up, just as furious as Rob. “You want a meeting with me? Fine. I’ll meet with you, but you need to leave Marjorie Ivarsson alone.”
Rob clenched his jaw, rage blinding him. “You fucking leave her out of this. She’s mine.”
“You’re the one that needs to leave her out of this,” Logan roared. “She’s an innocent woman and you’re fucking trash to use her like this.”
“‘Use her’?” Now Rob was yelling. “Fuck you, Hawkings. I’m not using anyone.”
“Bullshit,” Logan said. “You win. You get your meeting, but you leave that girl alone.” He clenched a fist. “We won’t tell her about any of this. She’s a sweet, sheltered girl, and it’d break her heart. I’m not about to stomp on her feelings. I happen to give a shit about them.”
“Fuck. You.”