Beg for Me Read online

“Tyler? Jeez. The oracle of domestic bliss got to you, huh?” Rocco laughed.

  “When do we meet her?” Xander asked.

  “When you can prove you’re not going to intimidate the hell out of her.” Logan pulled up and turned to glare at the three of them as they stopped alongside him. “She’s different,” he breathed in deep. “And she’s special. So leave her alone.”

  His three buddies appeared to be struck dumb. They stared at him, not saying anything, not doing anything.

  Finally Xander moved, waving his hand in front of Logan’s eyes like he was a zombie-bot. “Who are you and what have you done with Logan?”

  Logan laughed, shoved his cousin out of the way and started running again. Was it really so unbelievable that he might find a woman he could care about? That he could commit? Did no one think it possible?

  You’re not the kind of guy a girl marries.

  He accelerated instinctively as his brain tossed that bitter memory at him. Seemed his ex wasn’t the only person to think that. And in seven years nothing had changed.

  Yeah, well. Fine. Who wanted to get married anyway? Not him. This was just to get them through the vulnerable patch while Connor sorted out his takeover and swept their father’s old transgressions back under the carpet. They had to ensure that all the Hughes business entities appeared secure and successful. More than successful. Unbeatable.

  That was the one thing Logan hadn’t achieved in his first career. He’d failed in skiing. And he’d destroyed Connor’s chances years before.

  He sure as hell wasn’t getting in his brother’s way this time.

  “Is she going to the party?” Xander asked.

  “Yeah, like that’s not intimidating?” Rocco snorted.

  “We don’t have to stay long.” A brief appearance, for the photos.

  “When do you head out there?”

  “Late Thursday night. Promised Connor.” The pace was punishing, but the questions felt worse.

  “If you wanted to irritate Rex, you could always go dine at St. Clair,” said Rocco.

  Logan pulled up again, stunned. Rocco wanted him to go to his family’s restaurant? Be seated by the mother Rocco hadn’t spoken to in over a decade? The step-father he loathed. The half-brothers he didn’t know. Because while Logan hadn’t seen his father in recent years, Rocco had been thrown out when he was little more than a kid. “You wouldn’t mind?”

  Rocco lifted his shoulders in a shrug that wasn’t quite careless. “I never mind seeing either Bill or Rex bothered.”

  Yeah, Rex, Logan’s father, loathed Rocco’s stepfather almost as much as Rocco did. But for totally different reasons. For Rex it was all about money and land, not bullying.

  “You’ll be there to see Rex?” Logan asked, even more stunned.

  Rocco hadn’t been back to Summerhill—to the compound—for almost as long as Logan.

  “Not ‘til Saturday,” said Rocco. “In time for the Rex-reaction.”

  “But I’m there Friday,” Xander said.

  “So am I,” Hunter added. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world. So I can come to St Clair’s.”

  “What?” Logan ruffled his hand through his hair. “But you don’t have to come at all...” Logan trailed off.

  Xander, Logan’s cousin, struggled with Rex too. And ordinarily Hunter made it a point never to return to the same place, unless it was Manhattan.

  “And miss meeting the fiancée properly? Miss seeing you stare down Rex? Miss the party of the century?” Rocco laughed and smacked the palm of his hand on Logan’s shoulder. “We’re never missing all that.”

  “You’re crazy, it’s gonna be a nightmare.”

  “I love nightmares,” Hunter said blandly.

  Yeah, he probably wasn’t joking. Logan looked at each of his friends.

  Silent, they stood by him. Even when he didn’t deserve it.

  “Screw this snail speed,” he said, suddenly breaking into a sprint. “Let’s push it.”

  There was no sign that Min had woken when he got back to his apartment. Her bedroom door was firmly closed. It was still closed when he emerged from his bedroom twenty minutes later, showered and dressed.

  Hungry, he wondered what she’d like for breakfast. He didn’t know what any of his ex-lovers had for breakfast, he generally spent the time he had with them more usefully. Yeah, ordinarily with a sizzle like this, Logan would have fucked her five ways already. None of this sleeping apart and lame innuendo. But he’d made the decision. He wasn’t buying into her predetermined view of him, wasn’t making a hard-out play for her.

  Instead, he busied himself in the kitchen and tried not to think about her. About the upcoming trip. About any of the crazy mess he’d created. It would all be fine if he kept it fun.

  “You cook?”

  He turned at the sultry whisper speak. There she was, looking as skeptical as ever. And as quirky. Instead of the jeans there was a floor-length black skirt and another ancient looking tee. Also black. The junior Morticia Addams look only not as slinky. Maybe she’d hoped the bagginess would be unflattering, but the black highlighted her luminous skin. Soft. The tips of his fingers tingled with the memory of her pulse hammering beneath them.

  A spark smoldered in the emerald eyes she trained on him, and her honey blonde hair was loosely braided into that long rope. It hung over her shoulder, like a freaking beacon. Calling him to grab hold and use it to pull her close.

  He didn’t. But he smiled.

  “No need to look so amazed,” he said, adding a smug eyebrow flash for emphasis. “I’m a whizz.”

  She eyed the greens he’d put into the blender with disfavor. “Tell me you have food that you can actually chew.”

  More whisper.

  His muscles bunched. “You’re not a fan of the health shake?”

  “I like to g-get my teeth into something.”

  Oh bring it on.

  “Seems I’m not the only one who can do innuendo.” He slapped the lid on the machine and flicked it on, happier than he’d felt in ages.

  Yeah, less than a day in his company and Min was feeling his influence. Bad influence. “You’ve been for your run already?” She changed the topic once he switched the ear-splitting blender off, trying not to ogle the guy in his black and gray tee. She knew he regularly ran with his friends, it was in the schedule Ty emailed her and right now Logan looked like he’d recently showered, all fit and full of stamina.

  And she shouldn’t be thinking stamina and shower and Logan all at once. She was hot enough. Did the guy have his aircon set to desert temps at all times?

  “It would appear so,” he answered mock solemnly. “We can do better than this conversation wise.”

  “We don’t need to c-converse unless we’re on show somewhere.” She warily took the glass full of lime green liquid he held out to her.

  “Wrong. We need to work.” He raised his glass in a mock toast. “You need to mastermind our social media strategy now I’m part of a glamorous, aspirational couple.”

  “Glamorous?” She choked before she’d even sipped the slime. “You c-c-can be the glamour.”

  “I think you should work to get us a magazine spread, like your other client wants,” he mused.

  He had to be kidding. “I thought you wanted to disappear from celebrityville?”

  “I have to prove my boring monogamous commitment first. To make it believable.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

  He was mocking her. Deliberately trying to bait her. She turned her back on him and walked towards the hallway. “Show me where I’m to work.”

  “In my office.”

  She stopped in her tracks and swivelled her head to give him a narrow-eyed glare. “Where are you going to work?”

  “In my office.” he chuckled and held up his hand before she could open her mouth. “I’m out a lot.”

  Not enough. Hell, she’d had to lock herself in her bedroom last night and she’d hardly slept a wink thanks to the outrageousness of the situation. Of
Logan. The attraction she felt for him was appallingly close to uncontrollable. But just because it had been a while since she’d been with a guy, there was no reason for her to turn nympho. Especially not for a man so wilfully wicked. She knew what these spoilt types were like—the ones who’d never heard the word ‘no’. Yet she was ridiculously aware of her reactions to his presence—her heart sped up and her skin heated and moisture seeped into secret places…

  She took a long sip of the bright green liquid and swallowed. And screwed up her face. Good lord that was horrendous.

  “You don’t have a real office, like in an office b-building?” Because she couldn’t work in the same room as him. “Where does Tyler work?”

  She’d met Tyler at a networking meeting six months ago when she’d first arrived in New York. Min had been heading to hide in the bathroom because of a speaking gaffe and nerves. Tyler’s wife had been in there with an early-pregnancy nausea and Tyler had been hovering outside and was so anxious he’d asked Min to check on her.

  She’d felt instant empathy with the protective man, and instant trust with the woman giggling over her predicament in the bathroom. They’d spent the rest of the meeting together, Min relaxing enough to speak easy. So when Tyler had needed someone good with social media for Logan, he’d called her. Until tonight Min thought that meeting had been the most fortunate of her life.

  She’d been so wrong.

  “He’s here when I need him to be and that’s a few hours most weekdays. Spends most of his time at the company HQ. At home otherwise.”

  Home. That’s where she’d go, if it weren’t for the jackals at the door.

  “I really need my own s-s-space.” She gritted her teeth as her stupid stammer tripped her up.

  “What, like all that room you had in Brooklyn?”

  “Yeah.” All that room. “On m-my own.”

  “Poor little introvert,” he mock soothed. “But it’s only me, it’s not like there’ll be twenty people making noise in an overcrowded open plan nightmare.”

  ‘Only him’ was way worse than that. ‘Only him’ was too intimate and her unruly libido liked it.

  “You can have the big screen,” he said charmingly, looking like some angelic schoolboy sipping a milkshake. Except the milkshake was a lurid green and his eyes were beaming wicked thoughts right into her head.

  “Great.”

  She trailed after him into the large office. Watched as he took an iPad and phone to the sofa, set his already empty glass on the floor, sat and stretched his legs out in front of him, putting his body on show.

  Min’s mouth dried. No wonder he was such a successful model. Even though he only ever shot for his own company, and occasionally for charity fundraisers, she knew other companies approached him all the time—via Twitter.

  And she could see why. The guy’s arm muscles were incredibly defined, even if he was no longer a pro athlete, he clearly still worked out—for hours.

  She drew a breath and turned away. Not going to look at him. Not talk to him. Not notice or be noticed.

  How hard could that be?

  She put her barely touched smoothie on the gleaming glass-topped desk and took the seat behind it. The computer was already switched on, so was the giant media screen on the wall—a business news channel was reporting some company’s latest acquisition in low volume, while stock market tickers scrolled along the bottom of the screen. Had he already been working this morning? It wasn’t yet eight.

  Suppressing her curiosity, she clicked open the internet and started typing.

  “You don’t need your passwords book?” he asked, that usual tease in his voice.

  “You didn’t think it really had my passwords in it?” Min kept watching the social media manager load the relevant pages, but she sensed his slight frown.

  “What does it have in it?” he asked.

  “My best cookie recipes.”

  There was a pause. “So why’s it called ‘passwords’?”

  “To f-f-fool idiots like you,” she muttered. “My recipe book holds my passwords.” Most she held in her head anyway, it was only in case of emergency that she had that back-up plan in the index.

  Logan suddenly sat up quickly, she turned to look at him.

  Damn if he wasn’t so handsome it hurt.

  He was leaning forward, his face lit up with that huge, wide smile that she’d only seen a couple of times. Way nicer than the usual slight, teasing curl of his lips—and frankly that was to-die-for as it was. And his eyes—so ice-blue, so sharp, so gorgeously set off by his dark hair.

  So freaking striking she was rendered speechless and it had nothing to do with her stutter.

  “I bet I know one of your passwords,” he challenged.

  “Oh?”

  “Caramel Cashew.”

  She gaped. OMG she did use that in one of her passwords. “How?”

  “You had the empty carton at your desk.” He sat back, clearly pleased with himself. “You’re not as smart as you think.” He waggled his eyebrows. “And I’m not as stupid.”

  Yeah, well. She was learning that quick enough.

  “But you’d have some number on the end,” he continued to muse. “Maybe 99, 007, 1234?”

  Smart-ass. “No d-d-doubt your number would be 69,” she said acerbically.

  “Naturally.”

  She met his wicked smile for only a second then turned back to the computer.

  Work. The reason she was staying here was to save her work. So she’d better get on with it.

  No more distraction. No more desire.

  She glared at her email inbox, scanning the messages. Blake, bless him, had emailed through pictures of the engagement ring design. She sharpened the images and scheduled them to post at good times. Then she worked on her daily list—re-tweeting, replying, pulling off activity reports, compiling the most relevant tweets and comments affecting her clients. She knew almost everything about her clients’ profiles on the internet and she’d been offline for over ten hours, the longest she’d been out since launching her business.

  She tried not to listen to Logan as he took a call but it was impossible not to hear him as he debated the merits of holding or selling some kind of shares. Min didn’t know much about the stock exchange, but it was obvious Logan did. Less than a minute after one call ended, he took another. This time about some start-up that was seeking capital. All the while he tapped on the iPad screen and she heard the swishing sound as he sent email after email.

  It wasn’t even eight in the morning and he was all over it.

  “You’re very busy.” She couldn’t help commenting in a lull between calls. So curious. And if he was so freaking tech-savvy, why had he needed a social media slave in the first place?

  “You’re surprised,” he answered sardonically. “Money makes money. Have enough of it, invest it well, it does the work for you.”

  No way was it that easy. Many people had lost millions in bad investments.

  “Believe it or not, my lifestyle isn’t that hedonistic. I’m careful-ish.” He misread the reason for her skeptical expression. “I don’t need to spend big to prove anything to anyone.”

  “What?” She sent him a withering glance. As if this apartment wasn’t spending big? “So you have no jeroboams of champagne and edible gold leaf adorning your tarts?” she scoffed. “You d-disappoint me.”

  “I know I do,” he murmured, but he didn’t look sorry about it. If anything he looked amused at her expense.

  Min turned back to her work. One of her clients had a website update due, it’d take her some time to get perfect. Which was perfect for her to get stuck into.

  But she wished she knew what Logan was plotting. Because he was definitely up to something, it was in his eyes every time he looked at her.

  Finally she faced the task she’d been avoiding for almost two hours. The task she should have been onto first thing.

  She went into Logan’s account and pulled up his dreaded Twitter feed.


  “What d-d-do you want me to tweet for you today?” she reluctantly asked.

  He sighed and lowered his iPad. “I don’t want you to tweet anything, but I suppose you have to.” He levered up from the sofa and walked over to her. “But can I not be a trending topic today?”

  Min shot her focus back to the screen but she felt him at her back as he leaned in close to read the screen. He was so deliciously muscular and damn if she couldn’t feel the warmth emanating from him. Her cheeks started to burn. She was sexually frustrated, right? It had been too long. It wasn’t all him doing this to her...

  Awkwardly she clicked on one of the URLS that had been shared too many times for comfort. Mortification ignited, sweeping a totally different heat over her. Her yearbook picture was on the internet. Her freaking awful yearbook picture from her freaking awful final year at her freaking awful school.

  “Looks like they’ve hunted you down,” he said.

  They sure had.

  “Someone will step forward and talk about you,” he murmured too close to her ear. “What’s she going to say?”

  “That I was quiet,” Min said softly. Oh this was awful. So, so awful.

  “What else?”

  She stared at that old picture of herself, so timid with her too-thick hair in a ponytail and a tight smile on her lips. She’d never spoken up. “N-n-nothing,” she mumbled. “I was quiet.”

  End of story.

  “No boyfriend? No smoking beneath the bleachers? No prom scandal? No illicit liaison with a student teacher?” He joked.

  She shook her head, unable to speak.

  But there was something to say.

  She tried not to read the comments beneath the picture. But like that was possible? She clicked, scrolling further through the hundreds of judgments.

  Logan suddenly put his hand over hers, taking control of the computer and clicking that page away. Then he turned to lean against the desk, to face her, close enough to obscure half the screen anyway.

  Min restrained the urge to push her chair back. He didn’t need to know how bothered she was by his nearness.

  “What about your family?” he asked.

  Had he read some of those comments? The ones mentioning her mother?