Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 88709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88709 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 444(@200wpm)___ 355(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Logan bent close to my ear. “They’re spending the inheritance I’m after. You need to speak to them about that.” Then he nipped my lobe with a low growl, making me chuckle. I was grateful he had seen the humor in my mother’s warning and was trying to keep our spirits up.
We were still laughing when the elevator opened, and we approached my parents’ door. My mother was waiting, the concierge having announced our arrival. She watched us approach, the way Logan had me tucked tightly to his side and our shared amusement. I wondered if she could see how we felt. If the love inside spilled over and radiated around us. It felt as if it did to me.
I smiled as we got close. “Hello, Mom.”
She nodded, loosening her arms she had crossed over her chest. “Lottie.” She tilted her head. “This must be Logan.”
“It’s a pleasure, Mrs. Prescott.” He held out the bouquet. “Thank you for the invitation.”
She stared, surprised at the flowers. A memory came to mind of me bringing another man to my parents. One of the approved, suit-wearing businessmen they wanted so desperately for me to have in my life. I hadn’t wanted to bring him, but they insisted, excited that I was seeing someone they would approve of. He had walked in, acting as if he owned the place, ignored my mother, kissed my father’s ass the entire time, and had angered me to the point I refused to see him again. It was obvious my father was the draw, not me. He hadn’t thought to bring a bottle of wine, flowers, or anything.
But Logan had. Silently, I scored one for him in the win column.
A smile crossed her face. “How lovely,” she murmured, lifting the bouquet and inhaling the scent. “Please come in.”
We followed her in, and I took Logan’s coat and mine, hanging them in the closet. We removed our wet boots, and I tried not to giggle at Logan’s socks.
“Argyle?” I whispered.
“Seemed appropriate,” he replied with a swift kiss. “Should I have brought shoes?”
“No, it’s fine. I never do.”
I introduced Logan to June, who beamed and welcomed him warmly, then offered us a drink. She returned a few moments later with coffee for us and the flowers in a vase which she handed my mother. I was shocked when Mom placed them on the table beside her, touching the petals of the freesias gently. There was something different in her gaze today. It looked softer. Accepting. I dared to hope maybe she was really going to try.
“Did Lottie tell you these were my favorite?” she queried.
“No,” he replied honestly. “I chose them because they were so lovely. I’m glad they please you.”
My mother hummed and turned to us. “Lottie tells me you are a teacher.”
He nodded in agreement. “I am.”
“What grade do you teach?”
He answered her, adding a couple of amusing stories. She didn’t laugh, but I was thrilled she was being polite and hospitable. When Logan stopped talking and took a sip of his coffee, I spoke.
“Where’s Dad?”
“Oh.” She waved her hand. “Some to-do with business. He’ll be along shortly.”
As if summoned, my father appeared, striding into the room, a frown on his face. He didn’t acknowledge Logan, or even greet me.
“It appears someone jumped the gun on your merger, Lottie, and leaked it before the press release happened.” He sat down, crossing his legs. “Most inconvenient.”
I was shocked at his rudeness, although I supposed I shouldn’t have been. Logan took it in stride, standing, and extending his hand.
“Mr. Prescott. Montgomery Logan. I’m pleased to meet you, sir.”
For one awful moment, I thought my father would refuse to shake his hand. But he slowly got to his feet and did so, examining Logan with barely concealed disdain.
“Lottie said your name was Logan. You go by your last name?” he asked as if it were a sin to do so.
Logan smiled and lifted one shoulder. “Montgomery is a mouthful, and I dislike Monty. Logan is easier to handle.”
“Hmph.” My father sat back down, turning to me. “So, the leak.”
I tamped down my frustration. “Which merger? I have more than one.”
“The record company deal.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last. Especially given that industry. We almost anticipated a leak.”
“I don’t like it. Anyone you can think of who would have something to gain by leaking it?”
I didn’t miss his sidelong glance at Logan. I braced myself for the onslaught that was about to happen. But my mother stood. “Charles, enough. It’s Sunday. Lottie is here. Leave the office until Monday.”
He opened his mouth, shutting it quickly when she glared at him. “Sunday, Charles. It’s Sunday.”
As a child, Sunday had always been enforced as the “no work” day. My mother insisted with the busy life they led, one day a week was not too much to ask. My father set aside the office, she didn’t worry about housework, and we spent the day as a family. These brunches were all that was left of that dead tradition, so for her to bring up the past surprised me. That my father bowed to her wishes astonished me even more.