An Heir For Her Enemy (Bossy Bachelors #3)

5. Logan

CHAPTER 5

LOGAN

L ogan felt like the worst person in the world.

As he rode the elevator down to the first floor, then hurried along the sidewalk in the direction of the nearest subway station (it would be faster than a cab at this time of day), he couldn’t stop thinking about Delaney. He remembered her laugh. Her unique point of view. How talking to her had felt like a breath of fresh air. He remembered how it had felt to kiss her, like the world stood still and the softness of her curves against him were all that mattered. He remembered how she’d blushed happily when he’d pointed out the artwork in her studio.

More than any of that, though, he remembered the look on her face when he’d told her that he didn’t see anything happening between them beyond a one-night stand. She’d looked so blindsided that Logan had wanted nothing more than to kiss her and tell her he didn’t mean it. He could have at least stayed for breakfast. But he hadn’t.

Despite his guilt and regret, Logan knew he’d done the right thing. What he’d said to Delaney was true. He was too busy for any relationship, even a casual one. Logan was sure of that. In the past, he’d dated a few women casually, but they always ended up wanting more than he could give them. They wanted a real boyfriend and partner, not a guy who always disappeared to attend meetings or to put out professional fires at all times of day or night. Logan wouldn’t make the same mistake again, especially not with someone as wonderful as Delaney. She deserved better. And anyway, he wasn’t sure he could have something casual with a woman like her — their relationship would grow serious, and that would be too much.

Logan needed to put Delaney, and the night they’d spent together, out of his mind. As always, his work was the most important thing in his life, and he needed to give it all of his focus.

The subway was crowded and a little too hot. Logan sighed. He mostly drove himself or took taxis nowadays. He certainly didn’t miss the subway. At least it was fast. About twenty minutes later, he was in the elevator in his office, on the way up. A few minutes after that, he was in a conference room with a few of his employees, debating a potential high-risk investment in an up-and-coming aeronautics company. It was fascinating work and usually took all of Logan’s focus. Today, it was almost enough to stop him from thinking about Delaney. Almost.

Several weeks passed. Logan was buried in his work, as he always was, but thoughts of Delaney still drifted through his head now and then. He wanted to see her again, but he knew that, with the way he’d left things, she probably didn’t want to see him. He couldn’t blame her. It was best for both of them that he keep his distance.

Logan attended one more gallery opening, about two weeks after he’d last seen Delaney. Part of him thought that she might be there. Perhaps they could talk and, at the very least, end things on better terms. Yet this event was populated only by wealthy art patrons. There were no charming, beautiful art consultants in sight. Logan examined a few pieces and made a bid on one. He felt he was growing more experienced at identifying which art would make a good addition to his collection. Delaney had been right — he could tell a lot about art from how it made him feel. His collection might not be the most sophisticated or valuable, but at least he liked the few pieces he’d chosen so far.

A week after that, Logan sat at his desk late one Wednesday night. It was almost ten p.m. and he hadn’t left yet. He had just reviewed the summer quarterly financial report from the accountant and there was one number he wasn’t pleased with. He’d spent the last hour brainstorming strategies to bring it up in the fall quarter.

Just as he was about to pack his things and go home, he noticed a new email in his inbox. It was from Peter Jamison, Logan’s mentor and friend. When Logan had started investing, he’d reached out to Peter for tips and had received much more than he’d expected. Peter had helped him set up his company, develop a financial strategy, and even find a place in New York. It was thanks to Peter that Logan had gone from a teenager researching the stock market in his small bedroom to an investor with a company in New York City.

Logan clicked on the email.

Hey Logan,

I heard you’re building your art collection, like we talked about. Best of luck to you. I’m writing because I’ve heard about a painting — The Cherished Infant — that has just surfaced in Rome. There’s speculation that it might be a lost Botticelli. If it is, and if you can acquire it, it could give your collection the prestige you need. I’ve attached a summary.

Of course, it could also be a forgery, so proceed carefully. You’ll want to check it out in person.

I hope you’re well. Let me know when you’re free for dinner — Marie’s been asking about you.

Peter

Logan read the email quickly, then typed out a response suggesting later that week for dinner and thanking Peter for the tip. Once the reply was sent, he sat back in his chair, lost in thought. Even though he knew little about art, he knew that a Botticelli would truly put his collection on the map. It might be the key to entering the circle of wealthy investors he’d been on the edge of for so long.

But how could he be sure this painting was really a Botticelli? This would involve a lot more than seeing whether he liked the painting or not. It would require extensive expertise on painting technique, art history, and much more that Logan had no idea about.

He could hire an art consultant, of course, who could tell him if the piece was genuine. But there was only one art consultant with whom Logan wanted to work. One art consultant whom he knew was beyond talented. One art consultant who shared his views on wealthy people and fancy food. One art consultant who’d mentioned during their first conversation that she’d always wanted to travel to Italy. One art consultant with whom he wished he’d ended things on better terms.

Maybe this would be a second chance.

Logan clicked on the document Peter had attached to his email. Apparently, the painting was being held at a private home. The owner, a man by the name of Marco Vassallo, had just inherited it from his grandfather, who had kept it sequestered in his home for decades. Now, Mr. Vassallo wanted to know how much the painting was worth, as he suspected it was a Botticelli.

Logan drummed his fingers against the desk. It seemed like too good an opportunity to pass up. He reached out to the owner to arrange a meeting for the following week. To his surprise, he got an almost immediate reply from the man’s assistant confirming the appointment.

Next, Logan needed to get Delaney on board. He found her contact information on her website and composed an email offering her a short-term job appraising The Cherished Infant in Rome next week.

Once he was satisfied with the email, he sent it. Then he sat back in his chair and drummed his fingers on the edge of his desk once again. He needed Delaney to accept his invitation. She was the only one he trusted to authenticate the painting — but more than that, Logan wanted to see her again. A relationship was still out of the question, but at least he could clear the air between them.

Delaney just needed to say yes.