Fucking Logan Black had been a mistake. A fun mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. She couldn't stop thinking about him; the way his skin felt against hers, the masculine scent of his cologne, the way he looked at her as she took him inside herself. She was distracted; she wanted more...which was a problem with midterms coming up. She had work to do: papers to write, labs to finish, and club meetings to attend. It was just sex.
It was just sex.
Still, she kept waiting for him to call. A couple instances, she thought he did—those moments when her phone showed no caller ID. But if that was him, he never left a message, and they never spoke. A week passed; she kept herself occupied with the things she needed to do, and only indulged her fantasies about Logan Black in her dreams. And she dreamed about him a lot.
He was always sitting on a throne; always a little surprised when he saw her; always waking from a deep sleep. His hair was longer, too, reaching his shoulders, with some locks bound in silver and gold coils, but handsome as ever. She'd climb on his lap and he'd laugh or smile. Sometimes, if she looked at him from a certain angle, she'd see a crown of platinum olive leaves wreathed around his head.
"Seems you've found me, out in the waking world, to keep coming back to me here."
"Seems I have."
It was strange to be thinking so much about a one-night stand. To be dreaming about him, too—that was weird. And it was even weirder that she'd dream about him like this, imagining him in the vestments of some ancient king. But the dreams were sweet, and he was gentle: sometimes he just held her close and didn't speak to her; other times, he'd ask her about her day. And she'd play along, because the dreams were clear, and she felt good and happy when he was in them.
Sometimes, when she sat on his lap, he'd actually startle awake, like a frightened cat, and then slowly, gradually, the realization would dawn on him that she was there, and he'd grab her softly and then hold her tight, like he was afraid she'd disappear.
"Ah, my sweet flower, it is good to see you again," he said, pressing his forehead against hers.
"That your pet name for me now?" She grinned at him, lightly touching her thumb on his chin.
"Always."
"I wish you'd call me," she said, running her fingers through his hair. She quite liked him with long hair. "I gave you my number. Instead I keep seeing you here, in my dreams. It's not fair."
"I like seeing you here," he said, pulling her close to him. "Though I do wish the circumstances were different."
"Different how?"
"Back to the ways things used to be," he said, smiling sadly. "Before all the...well, before all I could do was sleep. My heart feels...heavier than it used to. I can't imagine what I must be like; what you must think of me, out there."
"I like ya," she said, kissing his nose. "Probably shouldn't, but I do."
He laughed at that, kissed the top of her head. "I suppose some things never change."
And so the days rolled by; a second week had passed without a word from him. And, to be honest, it hurt. Despite her better judgement, and all the red flags that she recognized in him—and not to mention, the red flags that her friends recognized once they learned that she'd gone and had sex with him—she was still attracted to him, crushing hard like a schoolgirl. At night, she imagined that it was his strong hands touching her as she pleasured herself, until finally the weekend arrived and she convinced her roommates to go out with her to Pandemonium for a bit of fun, one last time.
Clearly, he just wanted to be a one-night stand for her, which...fine, okay. She had no expectations about him, so she could deal with that. But she needed to break the spell; she needed to end the weird, fucked up hold he hand on her mind, because obviously they weren't going to be any type of thing—friends with benefits, or an occasional booty call, or god forbid, a couple—and she needed to focus on school, anyhow. He'd distracted her long enough, and she was going to end things on her terms.
"Stella, I know he's hot and you're all dickmitized but, like, are you sure this is a good idea?" Natalie was worried for her, like always. And, to be fair, this wasn't the first time Stella had made questionable choices regarding men.
"Probably not," Stella admitted, fixing her earrings in the mirror. The bouncer had recognized Stella immediately, and had let her and her roommates into the club, free of charge. Marie was ecstatic and ran off to the bar, while she and Natalie headed to the restroom to make the final touches on their fits.
"He's left you alone...don't you think you should leave him alone? I mean, I get that y'all had sex and had a good time, but, I dunno, Stell. I feel like you should drop it. Find another guy here tonight, maybe. Or a gal."
"I'm not trying to get together with him or anything, Nat. I just want it to end on my terms."
"Stell—"
"I'll be in the VIP lounge. You can come with me, if you want."
"And see you climb on his lap again? Ew, no thanks. Just text me when you're done, so I can drag you back to horny jail where you belong."
She laughed, exiting the restroom and heading up the stairs to the third floor, where the VIP lounge was. She quickly scanned the room but didn't see him. Where could he be? Maybe he saw her and was avoiding her? If so, ouch. She did see one face she recognized: Eddie, the bartender. He shook his head when he saw her.
"He ain't here," he said, wiping down the marble top of the bar.
"Where is he?"
"Dealin' with shit. The man has other businesses to run 'sides this one. Haven't seen him since he left with his arms curled around you 'coupla weeks ago."
"Oh…" She didn't want to sound disappointed, but she couldn't keep it from entering her voice.
"'Tween you and me, prolly a good thing he ain't around. Could tell he really likes ya. Not normal for him to get handsy with a girl, 'specially in public."
She felt her cheeks heat up. "Uh, thanks, I guess."
"Don't take it as a compliment. Man told you he's dangerous, and he is. If I were you, I'd take those hot little friends of yours, skedaddle on out of here, and never look back."
If there was one thing Stella Porter hated in this world, it was a man telling her what to do. She crossed her arms, narrowed her eyes. "I'm not afraid of him."
Eddie huffed out, chuckling as he started cleaning a glass. "I know. But you should be."
"Why?"
"Not my place to say. But being the daughter of the DA is only gonna give you so much protection 'round here, and 'round him."
"Are you threatening me?" She couldn't believe what was coming out of this man's mouth.
"Hell no!" he said, putting the glass down. "Know better than to threaten Cassandra Porter's daughter. Just tryna warn ya, is all. Set your expectations proper-like if you're tryna be his girl." He filled up a shaker, poured a daiquiri-looking drink into a glass. "Here, Sex on the Beach, on the house. For your trouble."
"Pfft. Okay, thanks. I'm not here to start anything with him, or be his 'girl' or whatever. I'm here to end things. Officially."
Eddie shook his head again, pouring out a drink for another customer who sat next to her. "You're a goddamn little spitfire, I'll tell you what. Can see why he likes you. Man prolly hasn't felt challenged in a while."
She rolled her eyes, took a sip of her cocktail. It was strong, but not enough to make the drink unpleasant. By contrast, the patron next to her coughed, choking on the hard liquor that he ordered.
"You alright there?" she asked him. He looked underage. Really, really underage. Like a high schooler underage. She knew Pandemonium had a reputation for being lax about checking IDs, but this could get them into serious trouble. Still, she wasn't about to narc on the kid; even if Logan wasn't there, she liked the club, and she'd hate for it to get shut down because a kid managed to sneak in.
He looked at her and startled, like he'd seen a ghost. And it was weird, too, because he seemed oddly familiar. "Oh," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "I am, yes. Thank you for asking, Miss….?"
"Porter," she said.
"Porter," he repeated, smiling. "I'm...Hunter," he said, and his words carried the slight lilt of an accent that she couldn't place. Pretty green eyes and dark hair, she thought. His goofy grin reminded her of her little brother, and she felt a sudden sense protectiveness over him.
"Your parents know you're here?" Damn, now she was the one acting all responsible. What a role reversal. She shook her head; if the kid got in trouble, it wasn't any of her business.
"Likely not," he said, and his smile grew wider. "Do yours?"
"No, but I don't need their permission to go out to a club at night."
"Neither do I, Miss Porter." She scanned his clothes: they certainly looked expensive. He wore a gold or silver ring on each of his fingers, which wasn't something she'd thought she'd ever see a rich high school kid do. It was kind of gaudy. Son of a mob boss, maybe? She swallowed. Suddenly Eddie's warnings about Logan seemed less irritating and patronizing than before. "But incidentally, I am here to meet my parents. One of them now, anyway." He laughed, like he had told a joke, but she couldn't understand what was supposed to be funny. He kept smiling at her, but that smile turned into a grimace as he coughed again, and this time it sounded like he was choking on phlegm instead of just bad liquor.
"Ex— cough —cuse me, Miss— cough —Porter," he said, heading to the bathroom.
"Damn kid," Eddie said, shaking his head again. "Serves him right for ordering the Death Shot. Fuckin' babyface."
"I...I think maybe you should send someone in there after him. He didn't look good."
"He's been showing up like that around here for days. Orders the same drink, makes some idle chit-chat, and then runs off to the bathroom or God knows where like he's about to puke his guts out. Point is, I'm sure he's fine. Been doin' that...well damn, for a 'coupla weeks now, now that I think about it. Huh. You know him?"
"What? No. Never seen him before in my life."
"Seemed like he knew you or something, goin' all goo-goo eyed at the sight of you, is all. Though," his eyes roved up and down her body in a way that could only be construed as licentious, and she wanted to throw her drink at him, "'suppose most men go goo-goo eyed over you. Guess I can't blame him or the boss for that."
She ignored his comment, sitting at the bar while she finished her drink. As she moved to step away, she heard a familiar voice—and not the rich, deep bass she wanted to hear.
"Stella."
She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from groaning.
"Henry," she answered. Eddie pretended to ignore their conversation, but she knew that he was keeping a close eye on the both of them.
"Do you have any idea what kind of danger you're in, just by being here ?" Henry asked, incredulous.
"I'm sure you're going to lecture me about it," she answered, unimpressed. She wasn't an idiot. She gathered that Pandemonium wasn't exactly the safest place in the world, and that Logan Black wasn't a good man—she wished the people around her would stop telling her things she already knew, and let her make her own damn choices, like an adult.
"This isn't a fucking game, Stell. Christ."
"It's the weekend and I'm in my senior year of college, Henry. It's just a nightclub. Relax."
"It's not just a club, and you know it. You can't even begin to fathom the kind of nuclear meltdown your mom had when she saw you talking to that fucking rat outside the station."
Oh, she could fathom it, all right. Hadn't heard the end of her mom's outraged phone calls, nor seen the end of her pissed off text messages. Why were you talking to him? Do you know who he is? Do you know what he's done, what he's responsible for? I can't believe you would do this to me. He's dangerous, Stella. He's dangerous.
He's dangerous.
No one in her life trusted her. She knew he was dangerous; she'd sensed that from him, the very moment they locked eyes across the club. She liked that about him: it excited her. The more people told her to stay away from him, the closer she wanted to get. She hated being told what to do.
"Henry, she's my mother. Of course I can fathom it." From the corner of her eye, she could see Eddie was struggling to keep from laughing. Must've thought Henry was a punk, too.
"And yet you're here, Stell, probably giving her a heart attack as we speak."
"I'm enjoying a girls' night out, like I said."
"Oh yeah? I don't see your friends around."
"They're around. And what are you, anyhow, my keeper? Mom send you out here to spy on me? If this place is so dangerous, why are you even here, you boy scout? Get over yourself, Henry, please."
"Not here for pleasure, Stell. Here for business. To speak to your new apparent beau."
"He's not my—"
He grabbed her elbow then, getting into her personal space quickly and alarmingly, and she had half a mind to knee him hard in the balls. She kept her temper in check. He was speaking into her ear, and she was sure that Eddie was already calling the bouncers over.
"Stella, I don't know who you think he is, but he's not just some 'bad boy' fantasy with a motorcycle that'll irritate your mom. He was an enforcer, okay? An assassin. And now he's at the top of the food chain. You understand? He's got blood on his hands; lots of it. And I can't abide a monster like that touching you. I won't. "
"But you're okay to touch me, right, Henry?" She pushed his chest away from her, hard. His eyes went wide; hurt. Well, good. She hurt his feelings—oh well. Not like he gave a damn about hers. 'I won't, ' she thought, enraged. Like he had any business trying to control her behavior. He wasn't her father; he wasn't even a friend anymore, not really. Fuck you, Henry.
"Miss Porter...Detective Olsen..." There it was: the rich, deep bass that made her weak in the knees. They both turned to look at him, and my oh my, wasn't he a sight. No suit jacket or tie this time: just a well-tailored charcoal dress-shirt and slacks. A crooked smile on his face as he regarded them both. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Here to investigate the property, Mr. Black. Easier if I do it now."
Logan chuckled, walked in-between her and Henry and sat at the bar. Her heart skipped a beat as his large hand wrapped around her fingers; warm, calloused. She wanted to lean into him.
"Easier to investigate the building during business hours? Afraid not, detective. Come back with a warrant during the day, and then we'll talk."
The hand that wasn't entwined with hers trailed to her waist, gently coaxing her to sit on his knee, which she did. Dammit all—he was right tangled up all around her now, and she wasn't quite sure how she felt about being ensnared, but she did enjoy seeing the steam pour out of Henry's ears.
"You're going to regret this, Black," Henry said, positively seething.
"That'll be the day," Logan said, his hand lazily rubbing circles on the top of her exposed thigh. She scooted herself back a little closer to his groin in retaliation, and his hand stopped. She turned her head to him, and he was staring at her, the pools of his eyes so dark with desire that her cunt throbbed in anticipation. "Run along now, little Messenger," he said. His voice was thick with lust, and she could already feel herself getting wet.
"Fine. Come on, Stella, quit messing around. Let's go—"
"No, Henry."
"...No?"
She couldn't believe it; she was caught in another man's embrace and he still expected her to follow him like a little duckling. The fool. The absolute moron.
Idiot. She stuck her middle finger up towards Henry Olsen as she gave Logan Black a deep kiss. A nasty kiss, really; nothing chaste about the way she stuck her tongue into his mouth, or how his other hand cupped her ass. It was a scene of PDA that she normally would find obnoxious in other circumstances...but it was hot, and it pissed off Henry, who made a sound of disgust at their display. He never learned; but he would learn now, the painful way.
When she came up for air, she felt Logan hard against her leg. He was making her feel heady already, when that wasn't what she was here for. "Thank you for the kiss, darlin'," he said, all soft, the small twang back in his words. God, she was so attracted to him. What was wrong with her? She extricated herself from his lap, sat in the stool next to him. Space. She needed space.
"You never called me," she said, trying to sound detached but unsure if she pulled it off. His lack of communication hurt her; she knew it shouldn't have—all they did was have sex, and if he had called her, she probably wouldn't have liked that either. But still: he hadn't called her, and that stung.
"You left without sayin' goodbye," he replied, popping a piece of gum into his mouth. "Didn't think you'd...appreciate a call from me. And I was busy, too." Eddie offered to make him a drink, but all he wanted was water. He sipped on it silently, darting his eyes back to her occasionally.
She guffawed, because he was right: she might not have actually appreciated getting a call from him. "Maybe not," she agreed. "Still kind of wish you called."
"I'm—I'm sorry, darlin'," he said, giving her another soft look that made her heart flutter. "Truth be told, I thought I'd never see you again. Didn't mean to hurt you." He lightly touched his foot against hers. "Was never my intention to hurt you."
"I...I accept your apology. And I just want to say, that I came here to end—to end whatever it is that's going on between us, but now...But now I..."
"But now, what, Stella?"
She laughed at herself, feeling strangely nervous around him. He never made her feel nervous before; usually she was the one in control of their interactions, and that's how she preferred it. Things had changed though: she had an odd affection blooming for him, one that went beyond just the physical attraction that was, already, largely overwhelming. She wasn't sure what to do about that, especially considering that he was not, in any way, good for her.
"I think I actually like you," she said, looking at him. Maybe if she glared, she'd be able to control her feelings towards him.
"I know I actually like you," he said, smiling and reaching for her hand; she pulled away from his grasp.
"No, Logan, that's a problem."
He blinked at her a couple times, rolled his strong shoulders. "Why?"
"Because of what you do," she said, cutting right to the quick. "What you've done. Who you are."
"Who I am ?"
"Yeah."
He glanced ed down, having the good grace to look embarrassed. The air was thick between them now. From the corner of her eye, she could see Eddie nervously fluttering around, trying to appear busy.
"I don't even know who I am," he said, more to himself than to her. He flexed his fingers, opening and closing his fist like his knuckles were sore. He wasn't angry; more sad, it seemed. Despondent. "Do you want to talk about this somewhere a little more private?" he asked, finally looking back up at her. Awkward, boyish, even; afraid of what she might say to him. Fragile.
Familiar, too. So familiar. The face of her lover. She wanted to kiss him, she realized. Hold him, smooth away the worries on his heavy brow. She shook her head. No, you idiot. This is what she came here to do: to end things, officially.
"I don't know if that's a good idea," she said, knowing she should flee now; knowing that she was a rabbit and he was a wolf, and if she stayed any longer, he'd sink his teeth into her—and she'd never be able to escape. But, God, the pull to stay was so strong: the way he was looking at her, so open and soft, he was just...just so damn familiar. Like she'd known him for years; like she'd loved him for years. "But...I'll hear your piece in private, if that's what you want."
"Thank you," he said, and his voice was rough, like he'd been holding his breath in to hear her response. "Thank you, Stell."
"Don't thank me yet," she said, taking his hand as he offered it to her while she stood. "And only my friends call me 'Stell.'"
"Ain't we friends?" he asked, winking at her.
"I'm not sure what we are just yet."
