Black Light: Charmed (Black Light Series Book 15), page 13
Everything was just… better around Cassandra Moreira.
He was better around her.
Which was why he’d tried to see her again, even for lunch, but other than the selfies she’d sent him via text he hadn’t laid eyes on her smile in two miserable days. He knew he couldn’t spend every night with her, and it wasn’t like he could expect it. They were just starting to test the waters on this dating thing… and she had a life. She had other people who wanted to see her, catch up with her since she was finally in town for a few weeks.
She had friends.
Growling under his breath, Logan turned away from the shitstorm on his computer screen to stare out the window at the bustle of downtown L.A. The conversation they’d had in his playroom had been playing in his head on repeat, like a low hum in the back of his mind that wouldn’t shut up and leave him the fuck alone.
At first, he’d pushed the whole bullshit idea aside. He wasn’t like Cassandra. He wasn’t warm and outgoing. He was serious, an introvert, and he’d never needed another person — a friend — to make his life feel complete. People took time, and for the majority of the human population he wasn’t willing to invest the time or energy in them that a friendship required. Corporate dinners and events were always miserable and draining, so why should he volunteer to do that shit in his free time? It was stupid.
Yet, her words kept coming back to haunt him.
Every time he entered his study, he saw the photos she’d mentioned. His solo trips to Dubai, China, Cape Town, Hawaii, Costa Rica, Thailand, and more… They’d always been nice memories. Now they were like an echo chamber, repeating her words, asking him why he hadn’t gone with someone. Anyone.
But it wasn’t like he’d had a lot of options.
He’d hated the pompous assholes at Yale, and when he’d started working for his father, everyone steered clear of him. Warren Chisholm had not been well liked within his own company, and the stain of his harsh demeanor had followed Logan for years, keeping everyone at arm’s length.
And then he’d died, and Logan had taken over the company — which hadn’t helped things. It just meant longer hours, more meetings, and more pressure to not fuck up his family’s name.
How the hell was he supposed to fit friends into that?
The ding of another email made him turn back around, and it was more bad news. Fucking bastards. He wanted to kill someone, or break something, but instead of throwing his monitor across the room, Logan pushed up from his desk and walked to the bar against the wall. Ripping the lid off the ice bucket, he found it a third of the way full of water instead of ice.
“Laura!” he shouted, waiting for his assistant to come in as he slammed the lid back down and resorted to pouring the whiskey into a glass neat.
“Yes, Mr. Chisholm?” Laura hovered in the doorway as he took a sip of the liquor, feeling it burn down his throat, but it did nothing to soothe him.
“There’s no ice,” he snapped, leaving the bar to go back to his desk and deal with the nightmare that had started the day before and seemed to just be getting worse.
“I’ll take care of it.” His assistant moved quickly to take the bucket, rushing back to the door where she paused. “Is there anything else—”
“No, just the ice. I have to handle the Preline account.” He paused to take another drink. “Actually, reschedule my next meeting and have Edwards come up here. Now.”
“Yes, sir,” she answered, shutting the door quietly, and he finished the glass as soon as she was gone. He knew he needed to figure out what their next steps would be — probably another miserable dinner to soothe the fucking client and make them feel special and appreciated, which he’d had to do last quarter as well.
But he had a feeling it wouldn’t work this time.
Clicking the email so it opened full screen, he scanned the lines over and over. Dip in the market. Preline executives are concerned.
“Goddammit,” he growled, standing back up to refill his glass. With or without ice, he needed to be steady in this next meeting, and the whiskey would make that possible.
The day hadn’t improved, and by six o’clock he had to pull away from his computer feeling no better than he had at ten that morning. He’d started the coffee pot so it would be ready while he packed his play bag and changed. If he’d been smart, he would have stopped drinking earlier, but the hits just kept coming.
All damn day.
Like the universe that Cassandra trusted so much was trying to kick him in the fucking balls over and over.
Sitting down at his kitchen island, Logan drank the first cup of coffee black, the heat of it singeing his tongue while the bitter taste helped clear his head. All he’d wanted for days was to see Cassandra again, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up. Not tonight in front of her friends.
Pouring another cup of coffee, he had some mercy on himself and added the half-and-half. He just needed to compartmentalize. Put all the shit from work away in a box that he could pick up tomorrow morning, because it would be there waiting for him. Tonight was about Cassandra, about making a good impression on her friends, and he wasn’t going to accomplish that if he showed up tipsy and still pissed off.
Reaching for his phone, he opened up their text messages and scrolled through the pictures she’d sent, the sassy little comments, and the ones asking about his day. He hadn’t told her anything about what was going on at work, because it would be too complicated to explain anyway, and all it would do was bring her down… and Cassandra didn’t deserve that. She was inherently positive, happy, and Logan would do anything to keep her that way.
She doesn’t deserve your bullshit, Logan. Let it go. Focus on tonight.
That’s what he needed to do. Let it go and enjoy their night at Black Light. Show her that he could be creative, interesting, spontaneous, friendly — all of the things she wanted — because she didn’t deserve his darkness.
Logan finished his second cup of coffee and poured another hefty serving into a travel mug for the drive over to her house. He could use the drive to brush off all the bullshit of the day and get his mind focused on her. At least Cassandra would be happy to see him today, which would be nice because he knew damn well no one else had been.
And if he’d ever wondered why he didn’t have friends, that thought answered it for him. No one wanted to be friends with an asshole, much less the asshole who could fire them for their stupid mistakes and black ball them in the industry, and nothing was going to change that.
Not even a ‘friend date’ setup by a girl he probably didn’t deserve.
Black Light West
Cassandra had talked the entire way to Black Light, laughing as she recounted some mix-up that had happened at her shoot that day. Her agent was updating her portfolio, and several other girls, with more high-fashion shots, and somehow two photographers had been booked. Apparently, the two men had got into quite the pissing contest when Roberta suggested they split the models to get the work done faster.
He didn’t really understand how it was so funny, but he did love listening to her.
It was her broad smile and the pure joy in her laughter when she couldn’t get the next sentence out that had him laughing with her. Her laugh was contagious, and he didn’t know if it was that or something else about her that actually managed to make his day fade into the background — but he didn’t care. She was with him, on another date, wearing a skin-tight black dress that he couldn’t wait to peel off.
Just as he turned off the car in the club’s private lot, Cassandra shoved his shoulder. “Okay, spit it out.”
“Spit what out?” he asked, glancing over at her in surprise as he adjusted his suit jacket.
“Whatever has you distracted! I don’t think you’ve said more than ten words since we got in the car.”
“It’s nothing.” He forced a casual smile on his face, leaning over to run his hand up her thigh, shoving her dress up until he could trace her underwear. “Long day at work, but I’ve been looking forward to this all week.”
“Oh really…” Cassandra grinned, spreading her legs a little wider for him. “Excited to meet your new bestie?”
Logan pinched the inside of her thigh, eliciting a little yelp from her. “Trust me, I haven’t been thinking about anyone but you.”
“What a liiiine!” She laughed again, pushing his hand away before she leaned across the gearshift to kiss him. It was quick, too quick, but she leaned back smiling. “You’re lucky that you’re cute enough to pull that off.”
“Oh, so I’m cute now?” he taunted, and she rolled her eyes.
“Let’s go in!”
“I saw you roll your eyes, brat,” he said, putting the edge in his tone that always got her attention. “That’s one.”
“Lucky me,” she replied, winking at him before she climbed out of the car. With a sigh, he followed her, locking it as he took her arm to head inside.
It was only a little after eight when they entered Black Light, early for a club like this, but Brian had been ready at the security desk in the locker room, and a few other members were already milling around the bar.
Logan watched Cassandra for any hint that she saw her friends, but it seemed they weren’t here yet. Oddly, he felt a sense of relief at that.
Maybe they wouldn’t come?
If they did skip out with some excuse, it meant he’d get his hands on Cassandra that much faster. So, even though it made him feel like an asshole, he was secretly rooting for a no-show from the couple she was so excited for him to meet.
“Let’s just grab a table, I’m sure they’ll be here soon,” Cassandra said, tugging him toward the bar, and even though he was tempted to remind her of exactly where they were… he decided to just add the missing ‘sir’ to her running tally. “Can I have a glass of the Cakebread Chardonnay?”
“Sure thing,” Susie replied with a smile, sporting a very uplifting corset for the night, and then she glanced at him for his order. He’d had more than enough to drink today, but he had sobered up with the pot of coffee and the idea of this awkward double-date actually happening had him on edge, so he tugged out his wallet to get his Black Light membership card.
“I’ll take an old fashioned with the High West Double Rye if you’ve got it,” he said, tapping the card on the bar top as Susie nodded at him and turned to get their drinks.
“I promise that Vanessa and Wyatt are nice, Logan. You’re going to like them.”
“Right,” he said, letting all of his doubt stain the word, and she rolled her eyes. “That’s four.”
“Four!” Cassandra laughed, looking at him like she didn’t believe it. “No way am I up to four already.”
“Well…” Logan ticked them on off his fingers. “You rolled your eyes in the car, didn’t use sir twice, and you just rolled your eyes again.”
“That’s bullshit, sir,” she said, but she was still smiling. It wasn’t like his masochistic brat was worried about the swats, she loved them, and he loved the way she reveled in the pain. It was why he was willing to do just about anything to prove to her that dating him wasn’t a bad idea.
Even if it meant being set up on a ‘friend date’ with another dom like he was some kind of newbie in the lifestyle.
“Here you go!” Susie cheered, setting their drinks down before snagging the card from his fingers to run it. A few seconds later she handed it back, and he set a twenty on the bar. “Thanks, enjoy yourselves tonight.”
“Okay, Cassandra, why don’t you remind me of who exactly these two are before they get here.” Sliding a hand across her back, he guided her over to a table with four chairs where they could clearly see the door.
Logan took his time with the drink in front of him while Cassandra told him all about Vanessa Novak’s ballet career, how Vanessa had met Wyatt during Roulette on the same night they had. Except, Wyatt and Vanessa had stayed together, were living together now. It was like hearing about an alternate timeline that he could have had with Cassandra if he hadn’t let her modeling schedule keep him from pursuing her more seriously.
Idiot.
“Anyway, Wyatt is a corporate business guy too. I think Vanessa said he’s a CEO— wait, no, not that one. But another one like that,” Cassandra added, casually waving her hand before she checked the door again. “It’s why I think you two will get along just fine. You’re both into BDSM, and you can talk business together.”
“Does he work in finance as well?” he asked, tensing with concern that he might be one of the assholes at Berringer Holdings that had spent the last week fucking his life up.
“No, something with computers.” Cassandra suddenly stood up from the table, waving with a cheerful little squeak. “Vanessa!”
“Cass!” A beautiful young woman with dark hair ran toward their table, followed at a much more leisurely pace by a man in a suit. He stood, watching as the girls exploded into excited babbling, hugging each other several times, before Vanessa finally looked over at him. “Logan! I do remember you from Roulette!”
“Nice to meet you again, Vanessa,” he said, accepting her handshake over the table, without mentioning that while she seemed sort of familiar, he didn’t remember her from the night of Roulette at all.
“And I’m Wyatt, also dragged here by my submissive.” Chuckling, Wyatt came over to shake his hand, offering a firm grip. “I have a feeling you’re in as much trouble as I am.”
“What do you mean?” Logan asked, glancing at Cassandra to see if he was missing some inside joke.
“Dealing with an independent, successful masochist for a sub, which means we are often playing catch-up on their decisions.” He was still chuckling as he released Logan’s hand. “Like tonight, for example. Vanessa completely sprung it on me yesterday.”
The woman blushed a little, smiling sheepishly. “I sort of forgot I’d agreed to it when Cass called me.”
“Right,” Wyatt said, and Logan couldn’t help but smirk at the tone he’d used. He knew that meant she’d likely already been punished for that, or was going to be tonight.
“Let’s all sit down and talk! Wyatt, will you sit by Logan?” Cassandra asked, and when Logan arched an eyebrow she grinned. “Please, sirs?”
“Marginally better,” Logan chastised, but he winked at her as he took his seat beside Wyatt.
“What would you like to drink, sir?” Vanessa asked. “Cass and I are going to go grab drinks from the bar.”
“Rittenhouse Rye. Thanks, baby.” Wyatt was smiling as the girls went to the bar, and then the man leaned back in his chair to give him an appraising stare. “So, apparently we’re supposed to be friends.”
Logan found himself chuckling, appreciating the blunt way the other man addressed the situation they’d been put in. “Yes, apparently we are.”
“Well, like I said, we’re both in trouble with them.” Shaking his head, Wyatt looked past him to where the two women were standing at the bar. Cassandra’s long legs had him shifting in his seat, thinking about bending her over a spanking bench again, but he distracted himself by looking at Vanessa. She was in a light pink skirt that barely covered her ass, pale tights… and ballet shoes.
“Did she come straight from the ballet?” he asked, turning to look at Wyatt who grinned slowly.
“No, actually, she wore that for me tonight.” Wyatt shrugged. “Since we’re all going to play later, she thought it would be fun to revisit the outfit I put her in for Roulette.”
“Nice choice,” Logan acknowledged, and Wyatt laughed softly.
“Cassandra looks very nice as well. They may be trouble, but you have to admit… we’re both very lucky.”
“You’re right about that,” Logan answered, keeping his voice quiet as the girls headed back to the table with glasses. Pointing at the wine in Cassandra’s hand, he reminded her, “That’s your last drink for the night.”
“I know,” she said, rolling her eyes, and he lifted his hand, showing all five fingers. Cassandra groaned, sliding his glass across the table. “Dammit. Sir.”
“Already up to five tonight?” Vanessa asked, grinning at Cassandra as she took her seat.
“Yep. Apparently I’m a brat.”
“Makes sense,” Vanessa replied, laughing when Cassandra shoved her playfully.
“Bitch,” Cassandra retorted, but they were both laughing as Vanessa stuck her tongue out at her. The two women seemed close, but Logan wasn’t surprised that Cassandra had managed to make a friend so easily. It was just who she was.
As the evening progressed, what did surprise him was how comfortable he felt around Wyatt. When the girls got wrapped up in a conversation about some show that neither of them knew anything about, Wyatt had started asking him about what he did for a living. He’d given the high-level of it and been relieved to find out that Wyatt was a CFO at an IT infrastructure company called Pytheas, named after some Greek explorer. While Logan wasn’t remotely familiar with the field, he was very glad to know the man had nothing to do with his rival.
That would have been a nightmare.
The other dom also had good taste in liquor. They were both drinking rye and were busy chatting about the different brands they enjoyed when Cassandra suddenly reached over and touched his arm, a big smile on her radiant face.
“Sir! You have to tell Vanessa about where you learned to dance!”
“You can dance?” Wyatt asked, and Logan felt a hint of heat rising up his chest.
“Kind of,” he answered, giving Cassandra a look that promised punishment if she kept going, but it didn’t faze her at all.
