An Heir For Her Enemy (Bossy Bachelors #3)

17. Logan

CHAPTER 17

LOGAN

THREE WEEKS LATER

E verything was coming together for Logan. There was simply no other way to put it. He’d acquired The Cherished Infant at what he later learned was a phenomenally affordable price. The invitations his planner had begun distributing for his art event were receiving a very impressive number of positive RSVPs. His company was thriving — he’d just found out that the fall quarter was earning record-high profits so far. As if all that wasn’t enough, he was edging very close to the billion he’d long coveted. If he got just a few investors at his event, it would push him over the top.

Yet, for some reason, none of it felt right. Not at all. The dreams he had spent the better part of his life working towards felt hollow now. Instead, thoughts of Delaney kept him up at night. He’d sent her several checks, one each week since their trip to Rome, but hadn’t reached out to her. It seemed best to give her space.

She hadn’t contacted him, either.

Logan wasn’t ready for a relationship, no more than he’d ever been, but he regretted how he’d handled things when he’d found out that Delaney was pregnant.

“—and that’s why five of our biggest investors have just agreed to sign on with us for another year,” Logan’s chief financial advisor, James Aronson, told him. Logan refocused on the present moment. He was sitting in his office, behind the desk that had been his pride and joy, listening to a presentation on the last quarter’s successes. This had always been one of his favorite times, but now he could barely concentrate.

“Thank you, James.”

James tilted his head. “Is everything all right?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, this is big news. Investors signing on again shows trust in the company and is a great sign for other people to get on board. This is the kind of thing you’d usually be over the moon about, but today you seem… distracted.”

“Everything’s fine, thank you. I’m just thinking about the event for potential investors.”

“Right.” James looked relieved. “I’m sure it will be a success.”

“Thank you. I have a good team on it, so I feel confident as well.” Speaking of which, he really needed to check in on the event planning. He hadn’t been as involved as he’d intended to be, despite the importance of the event. He was just too distracted nowadays.

“All right. Well, I’ll leave you to it.”

“Thanks.”

James showed himself out, and Logan sat back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair. James was right. Logan would usually have been thrilled about news like this, but it hardly seemed to matter anymore.

Logan opened his laptop and clicked on the article he’d been reading before James had arrived for their meeting. Apparently, at nine weeks pregnant, Delaney’s baby, his baby, would be about the size of a strawberry. Delaney would likely be suffering from morning sickness and tiredness. Logan scrolled through the rest of the article, noting that the baby had eyelids by now. Eyelids! Then he closed the tab. There was no reason he should be following Delaney’s pregnancy like this. He wasn’t going to be involved with either her or the baby.

He would just create more issues for all of them if he tried to be a partner or father. He’d shown again and again that when things got difficult, he walked away. The most important thing to him was his work — wasn’t it?

Logan opened an email about the event, sent by his planner, David Rice. David had outlined a few different options for hors d’oeuvres, and Logan forced himself to read through all of them. It was essential that the current and potential investors he was inviting were wowed by everything about the event, from the art to Logan himself to, yes, the hors d’oeuvres.

Individual portions of gazpacho, Logan read. Sure, fine.

Crab puffs. Why not?

Miniature bruschetta. Logan froze. Bruschetta. Delaney. Unbidden, images of Delaney swirled through his mind once again. He remembered her gleeful smile as they’d run through the rain. The brightness of her blue eyes when she’d looked up at him. The feeling of her soft skin against his. Her seriousness when faced with any piece of art, and how excited she’d been to explain to him why everyone knew more about art than they thought they did. Her dedication to her gallery. Her teasing.

Now, there were new images, too. Logan could imagine Delaney holding their daughter — he was sure the baby would be a girl. He imagined her rocking the baby to sleep late at night and holding their toddler’s tiny hand as she walked her first stumbling steps. He imagined her pushing a girl with pigtails and sparkling blue eyes on a swing set and drying the tears of a preteen with her first broken heart. He could see it all.

The thought made Logan’s heart ache. He reached for his phone instinctively but stopped himself before he could actually call Delaney.

He’d begun to care for Delaney deeply in Rome. How could he not, when she was such an amazing woman? The first night they’d met, he’d known that she was special, but it had taken the time they’d spent together in Rome for him to see the extent of it. And now, she was carrying his baby. That changed everything.

Yet it also changed nothing. Logan knew that there was no way Delaney wanted him around, not after how they’d ended things. He’d been more than clear that a financial contribution was all he could do for her and their child. That was still true. He could no more be a father or a partner than he could grow wings and learn to fly. It was simply out of his league.

Logan set his phone back on his desk, face down. It wouldn’t do him any good to dwell on the time he and Delaney had spent together. It wouldn’t do him any good to dwell on the baby, either. He had an event to plan and a reputation to solidify.

He spent the rest of the day absorbed in planning his event, or at least trying to be. He approved the hors d’oeuvres, then spent an hour or so looking over the guest list and checking RSVPs. With that out of the way, he got back to the brass tacks of his everyday work, which at least felt more familiar than event planning. Logan almost missed the days that he’d worked out of his parents’ garage, his little sister flopped on the old sofa next to him reading. Things had been simpler, then.

He left work late that night, as usual, and walked home. October had slipped into a chilly November, and Logan wished he’d brought a warmer jacket. When he was a few blocks away from his penthouse, it began to drizzle, and he tilted his face up to the rain. Usually, he would have been annoyed that he’d been caught in the storm, but today he remembered what Delaney had said about the unexpected rain in Rome. Instead of being upset, she’d smiled and told him she was glad that it had only started raining when they were almost home.

Back at his penthouse, Logan paused in the entryway. Rainwater dripped from his jacket to form a small puddle around his feet. Usually, he would have walked straight back to his bedroom to change, then to the kitchen to heat up one of his prepared meals. Yet today, he stripped off his wet jacket and walked slowly through his penthouse. The rooms were dark and mostly plain, with little personality. Everything was black or gray or white.

Logan had been so proud of this place when he’d purchased it, cash in hand, a few years ago. It had felt like the culmination of so many of his dreams. Yet now, it felt as empty as his office had. Instead of enjoying the space, he thought of Delaney in her small studio. He hoped she’d put his support checks to good use and found a bigger place. He wished he could have been there to help her.

Logan sighed and shook his head to clear it. He wasn’t some mopey fool who wandered around his house mourning his lost love. He was a businessman, and Delaney wasn’t really lost; he could still help her, and the baby, in the one way he knew how.

So, Logan changed into dry clothes, heated up a portion of lasagna, and went to his home office. There, he worked late into the night. He did his best to banish all thoughts of Delaney through figures and formulas — and, for the most part, he was successful.