Chapter 88
Logan
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The moment I stepped into the hallway outside the conference room, Emily’s posture shifted. Her spine straightened just a little too much, her gaze fixing on some invisible point ahead.
She nodded to the staffer beside her with a tight, polite smile and turned like she hadn’t seen me at all.
Except she had. We both knew it.
She was getting good at pretending we hadn’t shared a dozen intimate moments. That she hadn’t bared her soul to me at Sanctuary and that I hadn’t nearly kissed her again.
She was becoming an expert at shutting me out. And I had spent every second since she tore into me about my dinner comment replaying where I went wrong.
And I was getting tired of giving her space and keeping my distance
“Emily,” I said, keeping my voice quiet enough not to draw attention. She paused, just enough to be polite.
“I was hoping to catch you,” I added, walking up beside her. She glanced at me, cautiously.
“I’ve got reports to review before midday,” she said lightly. “Was there something urgent?”
“No,” I admitted. “Not urgent. Just… dinner.”
Her brow arched. “Dinner?”
“Not formal,” I clarified. “Just us. Tonight.”
She didn’t frown, but the hesitation was loud. “That’s kind of you, but I’m catching up on department communications.”
I nodded, masking the small sting. “Of course.” She turned again to go.
“I agree with what I said, you know,” I said before I could stop myself.
Emily paused.
“That you handled the dinner flawlessly.”
Her shoulders shifted–almost a flinch. “I know you did. But I don’t need your praise.”
The words came out flat. She didn’t look back.
I watched her disappear down the hall, the tension stacking between us like bricks. I didn’t understand why I kept getting it wrong–why every attempt to move closer to her left us further apart.
But I knew one thing with perfect clarity: if I didn’t find a way through to her soon, I was going to lose her.
Not from a contract ending. Not from some political scandal. From this…this steady, careful distancing that she’d perfected like a second skin.
I didn’t want to force her closer. I didn’t want to trap her in another expectation. But I also didn’t want to be the man she remembered as someone who let her pull away without ever reaching out.
Later, I sat at my desk and stared at the corner of the report she’d handed me last week. The handwriting on the margin–her
notes–were precise, smart, decisive.
But the edge of the page was folded. A rare tell for her. A signal that maybe, just maybe, she was fraying under all of this too.
I didn’t know how to fix it. But I knew I wasn’t ready to stop trying
The kitchen gardens were empty, just as I’d hoped.
Chapter 881
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Most everyone had quieted for the night. Forthal dinners always let a ripple of exhaustion in their wake–half the Pack retreating to quarters, the rest nursing full stomachs and wine–fied egos in the lounges.
But I hadn’t wanted company. I wanted ait. Distance. Something other than the sound of my own frustrations ricocheting around my skull.
And yet, as I stepped onto the flagstone path beneath the kitchen terrace, I stopped short
Emily stood barefoot in the grass, wrapped in a cardigan over a simple shift dress, her arms tucked around her ribs an if holding herself together.
Her eyes were on the moonlit hedges ahead, but I could tell from the slight tilt of her head that she’d heard me
I didn’t speak at first. Just approached quietly and stood beside her she didn’t move.
“Cold night for bare feet,” I said finally, my voice softer than I meant it to be.
“I needed to feel grounded,” she said. “The grass helps.”
She glanced at me. Her expression wasn’t guarded–but it wasn’t open either. There was a weariness in her eyes I hadn’t seen since the first few days she arrived.
I took a slow breath and reached for her hands before I could stop myself.
Her fingers were icy. I wrapped both of mine around them gently, rubbing warmth into her knuckles. She let me.
I didn’t know what to say yet. All I knew was that she hadn’t pulled away.
“You were right,” I said finally. “About the dinner.”
Her eyes flicked up to mine. “Right how?”
“That you didn’t need my praise.”
I saw the tension tighten her mouth, the edge of unshed frustration behind her stare.
“I wasn’t looking for applause, Logan. Just…” She shook her head and turned away again, voice quieter. “Just not that.”
I swallowed the guilt rising in my throat. “I know.”
We stood there, hands still linked between us. I felt the pulse of her heartbeat in the tips of my fingers. Steady, delicate. Picking up speed.
“I didn’t mean it the way it sounded,” I added. “About the shift. I was trying to say you handled things better than anyone else could have–and I made it about your dormancy.”
Emily’s laugh was dry. “It always comes back to that, doesn’t it?”
“Not for me,” I said. “Not anymore.”
She blinked at that, but I didn’t wait for her to answer.
“I see you. What you’re doing here. How hard you’re working. I should’ve said that better. I should’ve said a lot of things better.”
She looked at me, her mouth slightly open, as if caught between relief and disbelief.
“I’ve been wondering something,” she said at last. “Something I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know the answer.”
My grip on her hands tightened slightly. “Ask.”
“Why didn’t you kiss me again?” she asked, voice barely audible. “After that night in my room. Dinner. After everything.”
The question was a blade and a balm.
2/3
Chapter 88
+25 BONUS
“I wanted to,” I said honestly. “I’ve thought about it every night since. But I didn’t know if I could survive it if it wasn’t just kiss. If it was something more.”
She frowned, confusion flickering in her gaze.
“I mean it, Emily. You think I’m strong, but when it comes to you? don’t know how to half–feel anything.” I stepped closer.” And if I kissed you again, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep things professional.”
A long silence settled between us. She stared at me like she could the truth down to my marrow.
So I didn’t wait anymore.
I leaned in and kissed her.
It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t demanding. It was reverent. Careful.
Like touching fire and finally not pulling away.
Her lips were soft, but the way she kissed me back was anything but hesitant. There was hunger there–weeks of aching, of almosts, of quiet pain she hadn’t dared voice.
Her hands moved up my chest before she caught herself and pulled back just enough to breathe.
We stood there, breath mingling in the cold air, still tethered by the space between us.
let my forehead rest gently against hers.
“I don’t know what this is,” she whispered. “Or what it’s supposed to be.“.
“We don’t have to name it,” I said. “But I needed you to know. I’m not afraid of wanting you. Not anymore.”
Her breath caught.
And I knew right then there was no way I was letting her go after this contract was over.
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