Page 52 of When He Plays

The limo stopped.

They had pulled up to a massive building, one that stretched high into the rainy night. A quick craning of her head showed Charlotte that the limo had stopped beneath a heavy overhang, so when they exited, they wouldn’t get drenched.

She started to ease forward.

“No.” He put his hand on her thigh.

She felt that touch jolt through her.

“Get used to it,” Logan advised her. “Don’t tense every time I touch you.”

“I can’t help it,” she threw back. “Heat surges through me.”

“Fuck.”

“Well, it does. I’m not used to that. So I tense. Or I jerk. It’s new.”

“Okay, fine, we’ll work with that response. If you get a surge of heat when I touch you in front of the others and you tense? Then I’ll kiss you. We’ll push the hot-and-heavy vibe, and they will believe I am so obsessed with you that I will gladly fight every bastard who looks at you twice. Good?”

It didn’t seem good. “You weren’t obsessed last night,” Charlotte had to point out. “Don’t you think they will be surprised by the one-eighty you’ve pulled?”

“I think every man there will know that I was fucking you with my eyes last night.”

The moisture seemed to dry in her mouth. “I believe I missed that part. The eye fucking, I mean.”

“Yeah, well, you were busy using your spy glasses to peek everywhere but at me. That’s why you missed it.”

“You were not fucking me with your eyes.” He was just being outrageous again.

“Why do you think Ares wanted to make you part of the bet? He saw I was too focused on you. He and I—let’s just say our rivalry goes back a very long way. Met him back when he was Greek Special Forces. Guy is deadly, determined, and he can hold a grudge like you would not believe.”

Ares. Not his real name. A codename that the man had adopted during his time in Special Forces. The CIA had been able to dig up his real name during their investigation. Kostas Kritikos. Or at least, they thought that was his real name. He’d worked with the Special Warfare Command and so many of his background details had been hidden because of that work. He’d come out of Greek Special Forces with lethal skills, and the CIA believed he’d even been part of DYK. Underwater demolitions. Basically, a Greek version of a Navy SEAL.

“Why does he have a grudge against you?” she asked.

“Oh, the usual reason. Once upon a time, I destroyed a billion-dollar deal that he was working with some Russians.”

“Sure. Usual reason.”

The door began to open.

“Guess it’s showtime,” Logan noted. “Ready for the performance of a lifetime?” He offered her his hand.

Her fingers twined with his, and, for a moment, it wasn’t about a surge of heat filling her veins when they touched. Though, yes, that heat was certainly there. But it was more. More like it had been when they were in his bed, and they shared secrets, and he offered his hand to comfort her.

That kind of more.

The kind of more that she’d always dreamed of having.

He exited the vehicle, tugging her with him. Night surrounded them. Rain fell just beyond the overhang, and she caught the flash of lightning in the distance.

Jamar wasn’t listening tonight. Jezebel wasn’t watching. Charlotte was on her own. No, correction, she was with Logan. She had to trust him. He had to trust her.

Guards opened the gleaming, glass doors at the front of the building. She knew they were guards because the men were massive. Muscled. Both had matching tense expressions and holsters under their arms.

They opened the doors. Logan swept inside as if he’d been to the place dozens of times before. Maybe he had. Because he turned to the right and immediately strode for the elevator.

Yet before they reached that elevator, two more guards appeared, blocking their path. Both wore black suits. Both also had holsters under their arms. Dark hair. Dark eyes. Intent features.