Auctioned By The Ceo novel Chapter 15

Hannah’s hands cramped in the tight grip she had on his shirt in an effort to not take the man by his impossibly big shoulders and shake some sense into him. Not that it would have done any good, even if she’d managed to do that. Without her heels, she only reached mid-chest on him, and the coldness of the balcony was slowly seeping through the soles of her feet, adding to the shivers she didn’t seem to be able to shake off. Now that the immediate adrenaline rush was wearing off, she felt the cold even more out here, but she could have hardly had this discussion in front of his daughter, and she was so not going back in that bedroom.

Logan sighed, ran a hand though his messy hair, and stared out over the city view. Damn the man. Even having witnessed his temper, the violence he exhibited toward that admittedly vile man, she still wanted him. Great sex had to be addictive or something, but this right here, that little frightened girl, feverishly drawing on that couch, that was far more important than scratching any itch, and she wanted, needed answers.

The silence stretched between them, heavy and oppressive, until she couldn’t stand it anymore.

“Damn you, talk to me. Why is your daughter sitting on that couch, clearly terrified out of her wits, or is that none of my business, too?” That comment flung over his shoulder, when she’d first walked out into this mess, still stung, and Hannah hated the wobble in her voice.

“Rhia is not my daughter.” Logan didn’t look at her when he said that, his voice so deep and raw, laced with pain it took her breath away. His white-knuckled grip on

the railing and the way his whole body had tensed were other indications of his mental state, which made her want to reach out to him and offer comfort.

She resisted, however, taking refuge in the righteous anger that bubbled up inside her at his lying to her.

“Of course, she’s your daughter. She calls you Papa, for fuck’s sake, and besides she’s the spitting image of you apart from her eyes. I’m assuming they’re her mother’s. Where is she by the way? What the hell happened to that little girl, and you best tell me the truth or I’ll—”

“You’ll what?” Logan interrupted her, and she took an involuntary step back at the fury behind those few words, as he addressed her. He looked as angry as he’d been when he hit that guy, not that he hadn’t deserved it. She could still feel the other man’s lecherous gaze running over her, and bile rose in her throat. That look and his accompanying words had made her feel so dirty, as though she’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t. Which simply wasn’t true. There were no rules against sleeping with your boss, and gah, she was such a fucking cliché.

How had she ended up in this position, freezing her butt off on a balcony at the Savoy, facing down her furious boss while wearing nothing but his shirt? Her back hit the rough stone of the wall, and she swallowed hard when he closed the distance. One hand either side of her head, Logan crowded her in, and her traitorous body responded to his nearness with predictable results. At least she wasn’t cold anymore, not pressed against him as she was, so close that she could feel him harden against her belly. Logan inhaled sharply and rested his forehead on hers.

“Why do I still fucking want you this much?”

It wasn’t a question that required an answer. It sounded more like a plea, and echoed her own frustrating emotions so clearly that her anger fled.

“Your daughter, she…” Hannah couldn’t continue, because his entire body tensed, and a deep animalistic growl came from the big chest she was pressed against.

“For the last time, woman, she is not my daughter.” He pulled back just enough to glare down on her, and there was no denying the sincerity of his reply. Hannah swallowed, licked her lips, and nodded.

“Fine, if she’s not your daughter, then—”

“She’s my niece, Hannah.” He pulled away and stared back out over the view. “I have an identical twin brother. He’s currently rotting in prison for having beaten her mother into a coma, so it falls to me to look after her.” He paused at the gasp, which Hannah couldn’t help but utter, and gave a short, grim laugh. “She was there when it happened, hid in the wardrobe, hence the nightmares.”

He glanced into the suite, and Hannah followed suit. Rhia was still drawing. Her little tongue had come out in her concentration, and Hannah’ eyes filled with tears at the horror of the situation, an echo of her own past. At least she’d had her sister. Poor Rhia’d had no one.

“That’s … I’m so sorry.”

Logan swung back around, and the grief edged in his features took her breath away.