Emily
Heat floods my cheeks at Logan’s words. I divert my gaze and look away, pushing back the strands of hair that falls into my face behind my ear. I nod my head, unsure of what else to do in this moment as my emotions overwhelmed my mind and body, and I walk back around the conference room table to pick up my tea.
Logan follows close behind. He picks up his own belongings as well, the smile remaining on his face. Before he is ready to go, I quickly make my way towards the conference room door, exiting quickly with a rushed excuse about needing to get back to work.
I hate how easily Logan can distract me. Even with one simple look, I am like putty in the palm of his hand, ready to be morphed at any given moment or second. With the way that he has been acting towards me, the way that he has protected me amidst the drama in my life and the crimes that have been committed inside of his pack, it makes me feel as if he has bigger and more affectionate feelings towards me than he is truly letting on.
Even if Logan were to admit these feelings towards me, I am not sure how I would even react in the first place. Would I accept his love that he shares for me? Or am I bound to reject him and follow through with the guidelines of the contract that we have set up with one another?
floor and make myself at home at Even thinking about it, makes my head hurt. I listen to the soft clicks of my heels agains the desk beside his office. I sit down and take a sit for my tea, placing it on the coaster before, turning my attention to the computer that sits in front of me.
I turn on the computer, trying to figure out a way to distract my mind from the way Logan’s hands felt on my waist, the warmth from his touch, making me feel so alive. I also need a distraction from Dorothy in the files that I have given her.
The information in the papers that we have shared with her are crucial and sensitive. They reveal all of my dark family secrets, the way my father and stepmother have so cruelly taken away my inheritance in properties that belonged to me, the daughter of the late alpha who ran my family pack the best she could.
All I can do is sit here with the hope that Dorothy keeps the files on a need to know basis, that she will keep them away from the public eye and help me contain the privacy that I deserve.
I can feel my mind slipping away from me. Each and every thought that crosses, my consciousness is either revolved around Dorothy or Logan, the endless possibilities of my future, laying before me in my daydreams that are beginning to take away my attention from the work that was given to me. I tried to get my mind back on track, forcing myself to look at the spreadsheets that sit before me on the computer screen.
It does not help that Logan keeps his office doors open so they can keep an eye on me. Every so often, I catch him staring at me or he catches me taking a glance at him, a silent game of cat and mouse being formed between us in the small distance that separates the two of us. Every single time, I look away and feel the heat come back inside of my cheeks, attempting to hide my face from him as the second of the day tick by.
My mind is unusually loud today. I am overwhelmed with the hypothetical situations that surround me in the circumstances of my life. I am overstimulated with information that has been laid at my feet, unable to piece together the puzzle of my free freedom and security.
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