1
SAMANTHA
I pressmy nose against the window as we touch down, barely feeling it. Colorado mountains rise up around the private airstrip like jagged teeth against a gray November sky.
Logan doesn’t look up from his phone. “Baby, you’re fogging up the window.”
“Sorry.” I sit back, smoothing down my cream cashmere sweater for the third time since we left Chicago.
The flight from Chicago took three hours. Logan spent it glued to his phone while Chelsea, his assistant, worked on her laptop across the aisle, laughing at emails like they were the funniest thing she’d ever read.
Meanwhile, I pretended to flip throughVogueand imagined all the ways Logan might propose during this trip.
It’s November 15th. We fly back to Chicago in three weeks, which means this trip is serious. You don’t bring a girlfriend home for the holidays unless you’re planning to make her more than a girlfriend.
Right?
Chelsea closes her laptop with a decisive click. “I can’t believe how much there is to do for the gala. Your father’s expectations are insane, Logan.”
Logan glances at her with that warm smile I haven’t seen in weeks. “That’s why you’re the best assistant I’ve ever had.”
I study my manicure and try not to calculate how many times I’ve caught Logan cheating. Four. Four times in ten months, and I stayed every single time because breaking up wasn’t part of the plan.
I pull out my phone and text Robert.
Me: Just landed.
Robert: Good. Remember what we talked about. Pay attention to everything.
Me: I will. Promise.
I slip my phone into my bag as the cabin door opens. Cold mountain air rushes in, sharp with pine and winter. Through the window, I can see the private hangar decorated with evergreen garlands and white lights. The Hales don’t do anything halfway, not even early Christmas decorations.
Logan finally stands, stretching his arms over his head. He’s handsome in that trust-fund way, with good bone structure and expensive haircuts. The kind of guy who looks perfect in family Christmas photos.
“Ready to meet everyone?” He reaches for my hand.
His palm is clammy, but I take it anyway. “Absolutely.”
Chelsea moves past us toward the exit, her blonde hair swinging. “This place is amazing, Samantha. You’re going to love it.”
“It’s Sam.” But she’s already halfway down the stairs.
Logan squeezes my hand. “Chelsea’s been here a few times for work stuff. She knows the layout.”
Of course she does.
A black SUV idles outside, engine purring. A man in a dark coat moves efficiently between the plane and the vehicle, loading our luggage into the back.
I slide into the leather seat and watch the estate come into view as we wind up the mountain road.
It’s bigger than the photos Logan showed me. The main lodge sprawls across the slope, with stone and timber and glass that reflects the pale afternoon sun. Smoke curls from multiple chimneys. Every window glows warm against the snow.
Logan points out the ski runs, the guest cabins, and the staff quarters. I nod and make appropriate sounds while watching Chelsea lean forward between the seats to laugh at something he says. They look comfortable together. Natural.
I look like I’m trying too hard despite being his girlfriend.
The SUV stops in front of the main residence. Up close, it’s even more imposing. The double doors have a wreath that’s easily six feet across, and more garlands frame every window.
