Black Light: Charmed (Black Light Series Book 15), page 12
“It’s not a mansion, Cassandra,” he replied with a sigh, leaving his coffee behind as he led her back into the living room. “It’s just a big house. Yeah, it’s got more space around it than others, but I like the privacy.”
“That makes sense. I can hear everything my neighbors say when they get into an argument.” She laughed a little. “Although, Abelita and I say it’s kind of like listening to a soap opera, because they are dramatic as hell.”
“Maybe I’ll get lucky and catch an episode,” he said with a grin, turning to look at the massive living room, and she had to admire his confidence. Last night he’d said he wanted her back in his house, and now he was talking like he’d be at her apartment often enough to listen to the neighbors get into it again. One thing was definitely true about Logan — he wasn’t shy, and she liked that.
“Maybe you will,” she replied, smiling at him over her coffee mug, but he just shook his head at her as he chuckled.
“All right, so you want a tour…” Waving his arm dramatically at the living room, he put on a ridiculous movie announcer voice. “This is the center of the house, a spacious living room that — as you can see — extends up to the second floor, leaving vaulted ceilings and plenty of sunlight. The built-in wet bar has its own fridge, and the fireplace is made of a stone… that I can’t remember the fucking name of, but I’m sure it was expensive. The last owners installed it.”
“Oooo, ahhh,” she replied, exaggerating her awe before she laughed.
“Hey, you’re the one who wanted a grand tour, brat,” he answered, returning to his normal voice as he swatted her ass and turned her slightly. “Over there is the dining room and the exit to the garage, and behind you is the pool.”
Turning around, she looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows to see the pool in a well-landscaped yard bordered by tall, bushy trees on one side. The other side looked out over Los Angeles — the sprawling city spread out under a haze that did nothing to lessen how impressive it was. “You really do live a charmed life, Logan. That’s a very nice view.”
“It’s okay,” he replied, and when she realized he was being serious, she was a little surprised.
“You’re kidding, right? It’s awesome, and I bet it’s beautiful at night. All we can see from our apartment is the parking lot, so this is amazing.” Tilting her head, she watched his face as it went placid. “You recognize that, don’t you?”
Logan shrugged. “There’s plenty of much larger houses in L.A. with better views.”
“Does that make yours any less fancy?” she asked, and he sighed at her. “If you don’t like it, then why did you buy it? It’s not like you couldn’t afford something else, Mr. Moneybags.”
“Do you want to see the house, or do you just want to mock my skills in house hunting?” he asked, and she grinned.
“Can’t I do both?”
“Such a brat… I cannot wait to show you the playroom upstairs,” he replied, a low, threatening tease before he tilted his head toward the living room. “But let me show you this stuff first.”
“Wait, where’s your Christmas tree?” Cassandra circled her finger in the air. “Or any holiday decorations. Whatever you celebrate.”
“I don’t really do that. Not my thing.” Logan pointed across the living room. “May I show you the next stop on our tour?”
“Okay, lead the way, Grinch,” she said, laughing quietly because Logan was hating this as much as she was enjoying it.
“I am not a Grinch,” he muttered, turning to guide her down a side hall as he pointed into different rooms. “Gym, guest room, there’s a wine room at the end of the hall.” Taking a few steps forward, he opened a door on the left. “And this is my study.”
Approaching him, she peeked through the doorways. Every room was perfectly maintained, spotless, and the equipment in his gym looked better than the stuff at her local one. But the room that instantly pulled her inside was his study. Unlike the rest of the house that was all cool tones, designer chic, with clean lines, his office was almost cluttered. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves lined one wall, filled with random books — mostly fiction based on the colorful spines — and, finally, there were pictures.
A handful were of him in different places around the world, alone, and from what she could tell he was younger in most of them. Moving down the wall of shelves, she searched for any pictures of him with friends or family, but there were none. Some were completely void of people, just photos of scenery. Beautiful… but empty.
Like his house.
Crossing behind his desk, she found one frame perched on the corner. The photo was of a kid who looked enough like him for her to be sure the smiling woman at his side was his mom. The urge to ask him about her was strong, but she bit her tongue. She didn’t need to ask to know his mom had passed when he was young. It was the only reason he’d have such an outdated picture on his desk, and the idea made her chest hurt.
Shit. I don’t know what I’d do without my mom… or my dad.
Turning away from his desk, she found herself facing a large portrait hanging on the wall. It was another photograph, and this one had an older man sitting in a high-backed leather chair with Logan standing at his right, and she had no doubt this was his dad. Their faces were similar, their hair light, and even the way their shoulders filled out their suit jackets seemed to match, but it wasn’t like any portrait her family had ever taken. The whole image seemed cold, forced, from the wan smile on his father’s face to the stiff way Logan rested his hand on the back of the chair, barely smiling at all.
“You can ask.” Logan leaned against the wall on the other side of a small bar filled with crystal decanters. “I know you want to, so just go ahead.”
“We don’t have to talk about it,” she said, shaking her head. “I was just looking.”
His gaze hovered somewhere near the floor, hands in his pockets, and she thought about just walking out of the study, but then he looked up at the portrait in front of her. “He died of a heart attack. Not sure if he knew it was an issue or not, he wouldn’t have told me or anyone else if he had known… but he dropped dead at the Los Angeles Country Club, out on the golf course.”
“Logan, I’m sorry,” she replied softly, wanting to hug him, comfort him, but he was stiff. Tense.
“You don’t need to be. I inherited all of my asshole genes from him.” Smiling bitterly, Logan shrugged a shoulder. “Of course, he made damn sure I’d be enough of a gentleman to represent the family well. So, I guess you have him to thank for that.”
No, I don’t.
Everything about the way Logan talked about the man told her she wouldn’t have the urge to thank his father anytime soon. Or ever. There was so much anger and pain brimming just under the surface, and she wanted to ask questions, to help somehow, but she couldn’t find the words to broach a topic that intense.
“She died when I was ten.” He tilted his chin at the picture on his desk, his eyes staying on the frame as he continued, “Well, I was almost eleven. Three weeks shy.”
“How?” she whispered, immediately cringing at herself for asking.
“Accidental overdose. Vicodin.” Logan stared at the ground again, running a hand through his hair in a fierce swipe as he laughed harshly. “Guess she was ahead of her time with the whole opioid crisis.”
It was a dark joke, and she knew he was just saying it as a defense, but she had no clue what to say in response. ‘Sorry’ seemed such a hollow, meaningless word in the face of that kind of loss. Taking a deep breath, she set her coffee cup on the edge of his desk and walked over to wrap her arms around his middle, hugging him tight.
“It’s okay,” he said, running a hand down her back as if he were comforting her instead of the other way around. “It’s all in the past.”
“Doesn’t matter,” she replied, hugging him harder, and after a minute she felt him relax a little as he wrapped his arms around her.
“Okay, let’s move on.” He gave her a squeeze, then tried to pull back, but she held on.
“Not yet.”
“Are you really going to argue with me right now?”
“Yep,” she answered with a pop of her lips, keeping them right where they were. Cassandra had never been great at heavy conversations. Things like death and tragedy always just made her stomach squirm, but she could hug him. She could show him she cared about his losses, because she was pretty sure that he didn’t have many people in his life — if any — who had done this for him. And even if his father was an asshole, which she believed, the man had still been his dad.
“I’m only letting you do this because I like how it feels having your chest pressed against me.”
Groaning, she rolled her eyes and leaned back to look at him. “Asshole.”
“Yep,” he replied, mimicking the sarcastic emphasis she’d given to it as he grinned at her, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. Sadness and pain still lurked underneath all that cocky bravado… she just couldn’t figure out how to reach it. Taking a deep breath, he gently pulled her arms from around him, squeezing them before he let go. “Ready to see the upstairs?”
“Sure,” she conceded, knowing that he was done talking about his past for now, but her head was spinning as he moved away from her. Logan picked up her coffee off the desk, wiping at the wood with his hand before he brought it over to her and she cringed. “Did I leave a ring?”
“No, but I kind of wish you had. It would have given me an excuse to light your ass up this morning.”
“I haven’t earned that yet?” she quipped, laughing when he groaned and headed toward the door.
“You are an absolute brat.” Jerking his head into the hall, he ordered, “Out.”
“Yes, sir!” Cassandra gave a quick salute, which made him sigh as he disappeared through the doorway. She could hear his shoes on the tile, but she turned to look at the picture of his father one more time. If anyone was to blame for the darkness hiding behind Logan’s eyes, it was that man.
“Cassandra?” Logan called out, and she followed quickly, her heels echoing in the spacious house as she tracked his voice to the base of the stairs. “Come on, there’s more to see.”
There were several other guest rooms on the second floor that could have been upscale hotel rooms for all the personal details they held. There was no dust anywhere, but she had a feeling no one had stayed there in a long time — if ever. Every ounce of her intuition was buzzing, creating a whirlwind of thoughts that wouldn’t be silenced as he walked her around the top floor and into the playroom.
“Well, this is definitely impressive,” she said, looking at all of the well-made equipment. A St. Andrew’s Cross was bolted to one wall, a spanking bench tucked in one corner, hard points in the ceiling, and a small bed with only a black fitted sheet. Various toys and devious implements were laid out on a narrow table beside a tall cabinet she assumed held even more. It was a dream playroom, and it all matched. Every piece of wood in the room was stained to the same color, all of the leather a rich, matte black. Each restraint looked like they were made by the same person.
It was neat, ordered, and also the only room in the house with a thin sheen of dust.
“How long since you’ve had the chance to use this stuff?” she asked, and Logan shrugged as he leaned against the wall by the door.
“A while.”
“And how long is that?”
Logan slowly crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Does it matter?”
“I guess not. It’s just clear you invested a lot of money to make this what you wanted it to be,” she replied, and he huffed.
“What is it with you and money?”
“Come on, Logan,” she said as she walked over and hopped up onto the edge of the bed, waving a hand around her. “There’s only one reason you bought this house, had it decorated by someone who clearly wasn’t you, and then spent money to make your playroom look like this.”
“And what reason is that?”
“To make sure anyone who comes here sees that you have money and—”
“That’s not—” Logan tried to interrupt, but she let out a groan and he stopped himself, clenching his jaw for a moment. “Fine, since you seem to know me so well, why did I do all this?”
“Because you’re trying to distract people from how empty this place is,” she finished, meeting his serious gaze with her own. Silence reigned for a long minute, and she shook her head. “Where are the pictures of your friends, Logan? Why were you by yourself in every picture of you traveling the world?”
“I don’t take a lot of pictures, Cassandra. Neither do the people I know.” He shoved a hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead for a moment before his arms were crossed again. “I don’t do Instagram and all that social media stuff, remember?”
“So, you went on those trips with people?” she pressed, feeling like a bitch, but she knew she was right.
“I like to travel alone.”
“Okay, well, who’s your best friend?” she asked, wrapping her fingers over the edge of the mattress as she leaned forward. Logan’s brows pulled together for a moment, his eyes flicking across the floor before they came back to her.
“Guys don’t have best friends, Cassandra, that’s—”
“That’s bullshit, but fine,” she interrupted, waving off his excuse. “Name five of your friends then.”
“Paul Browning.”
“And who is that?”
“He’s the VP of marketing at work, and we eat lunch together several times a week,” he replied, shoulders stiff, his jaw tense the second he stopped speaking.
Seriously?
“Do you talk about life or work?”
“We talk about work, and sometimes his kids, and—”
“He doesn’t count,” she said.
“Why not?” Logan snapped, dropping his arms to his sides as he took a step forward.
“Have you ever gone out with him outside of work? Ever had him here to hang out?” Cassandra asked, and she knew the answer without him even speaking. His shoulders dipped as he turned away from her to walk across the playroom. Pacing one way, and then the other. “What about at Black Light? Do you meet up with any of the other doms there?”
“Weston. I take a lot of his classes. And Miles does some cool shit with edge play and whips and—”
“Not classes, Logan. Friends. Who are your friends at Black Light? Or, hell, anywhere! Who do you spend your time with?” she asked, hearing the tension in her own voice as he continued to pace, shaking his head at the floor.
Wyatt said he never talks to anyone.
Jesus, is he really this alone?
“Logan, come here.” Holding out her hand, she reached for him, beckoning him closer with a wave of her fingers when his eyes came up to seek hers. “Please?”
“I don’t see why any of this matters,” he said, still stiff as hell, but he came over to her. When he was close enough, she grabbed his hand, shifting her knees apart to pull him between them.
“Because.” Cassandra squeezed his hand, looking up at him even though he wouldn’t quite meet her gaze. “I like you, Logan”
That got his eyes to meet hers, the wrinkle appearing between his brows again as he stared down at her.
“I like you, and other people will too if you’ll give them a chance,” she continued, but he tried to pull back so she hooked her heels behind his thighs to keep him there. “Nuh-uh. You may not think it’s important, or that it matters, but you need friends. Everyone does.”
“Is that a pre-requisite to dating you?” he asked, his tone heavily laced with exhausted sarcasm, and she let a smile sneak across her lips.
“For the sake of this conversation, let’s say that yes, it is.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.” Grinning, she pulled him closer, appreciating that the bed was the perfect height to have him pressed against her in a very nice way. He seemed to notice too, because Logan leaned forward, his free hand tracing her neck before sliding to the back to cradle her head.
“This is bullshit,” he muttered, but she could see the moment he relented. The tension was fading, and she knew exactly what they needed to do.
“Humor me,” she answered, watching the way his eyes dipped to the neckline of her dress before coming back to her face. “My friend Vanessa invited me to go to Black Light with her and her boyfriend, Wyatt. I think we should take them up on it.”
“Are you trying to set me up with this guy?”
“Absolutely. It’s a friend date, but the bonus is that you get a date out of me at the same time.” She couldn’t bite back the wide grin of victory as he chuckled and leaned down to brush his lips over hers.
“And you’re going to call it a date?” he asked, teasing her with another too-light kiss.
“Yes, sir. And you’re going to make a friend.”
Another low chuckle as he leaned up enough to meet her gaze. “What if I hate this guy?”
“I don’t think anyone hates Wyatt, but if you hate him… we’ll find you another future bestie.”
Logan groaned, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips as he said, “Guys don’t have besties, Cassandra.”
“I’m going to greatly enjoy proving you wrong.”
Laughing, Logan tightened his grip on her neck a moment before he leaned her back on the bed, lips hovering above hers. “Oh, my little brat, I’m going to drop you off at your apartment with a very sore ass.”
“Sounds fantastic,” she replied, biting down on her lip as he pressed her into the mattress, the growing hard-on behind his slacks rubbing her in just the right way. “But… I’m still right.”
“That’s it,” Logan said, leaning up and flipping her onto her stomach in a fluid movement that left her bent over the side of the bed. “Time to give you a taste of what you’ll get on our next date.”
Chapter 15
Logan
It had been two days since he’d seen Cassandra. They’d met up to watch a movie — his favorite Christmas flick, Die Hard. Tucked together on her couch, with her legs draped over his lap, it had been so simple, so easy. She’d cracked jokes through the whole thing, which would have annoyed him had it been anyone else, but with Cassandra he’d found himself laughing along with her. Her vibrant smile had let him relax, and he’d started quoting the movie to her in time with the characters, which only made her laugh more. They’d started making out as Hans Gruber fell from Nakatomi Plaza and ended the night in her bed for another round of mind-blowing sex. It hadn’t been a fancy date, hadn’t been spontaneous or adventurous, but it had been so damn good.
