“About that,” I say slowly. “Are you sure about promoting him?”
Logan turns fully now. “Why?” His tone shifts. “It’s basically done.”
I swallow. I was hoping he hadn’t told Arnon yet.
“It’s just…” I close my laptop, buying time. “He has this attitude. I thought it was just with me. But apparently it’s not.”
Logan stays very still. “Did he do something?”
“Not exactly,” I say carefully. “It’s more… aggressive behavior. Especially with female employees.”
His expression hardens. “Did someone complain?”
“Not formally. Not to me.”
“Then how do you know?”
“Because I’ve felt it,” I say.
Logan opens his mouth, but I keep going before he can interrupt.
“At first I thought it was jealousy. You know Jeremy mentioned Arnon handled surveillance when his partner was gone. I figured maybe he resented me stepping in.” I shake my head. “So I had Mackie ask around. And it’s not just me.”
Logan’s shoulders go rigid. “What did he do?”
Sensing the direction of his anger, I stand and walk around the desk. I take his hand before he can spiral.
“He didn’t do anything specific,” I say gently. “It’s his behavior. The way he talks to women. The way he dismisses them. Promoting him would send the wrong message. I know operations falls under your purview, but I-”
“Jess,” he cuts in firmly.
I stop rambling.
“I’m not promoting him,” he says. “Hell, I’m firing him. You know I don’t tolerate that kind of crap.”
Relief floods through me. “Thank you.”
His eyes soften, but there’s something else there too. “Why didn’t you tell me he made you uncomfortable?”
I glance away. “We weren’t in a good place. And I know that’s not an excuse. I should have said something. I’m sorry.”
He exhales and steps closer. “No. That’s on me. I never should’ve started that stupid separation.”
“Really?” I ask, searching his face.
“Yes.” His hands slide around my waist, pulling me gently against him. “Not talking to you sucked.”
I smile, biting back my glee at hearing that. “It sucked for me too.”
He rests his forehead against mine, the tension slowly draining from his body.
“We’re not doing that again,” he mutters.
Logan’s arms around me feel… solid. Safe. Yesterday I’d been too shocked, too overwhelmed to fully appreciate the weight of them.
Now I do.
Logan’s always been built like that. If I had to compare him to anyone, it would be Khal Drogo fromGame of Thrones, not the hair or the beard, but the sheer physicality of him. That quiet, imposing strength, the kind that either makes you stand straighter or bend over.
