My pulse pounds behind my eyes as I pray I didn’t scratch my corneas with what feels like two pieces of sandpaper tucked behind my lids as I force my eyes open, holding out a teeny, tiny bit of hope that this isn’t actually happening.
Damn . . . No such luck.
With open eyes, it only takes a minute forhimto come into focus.
Logan fucking Adler.
Ugh... gross. He’s lying next to me, his eyes closed in sleep, and his face beautifully relaxed.
Son of a bitch.
I look over my shoulder and find Serena lying on my other side like she’s done a million times throughout our lives, but this time Rafe is tucked behind her.
What the actual fuck?
“We’re in the penthouse suite,” I whimper as my pulse spikes painfully with each word. “There’s three bedrooms and two couches. Why are there four of us in one bed?”
Thankfully, everyone is clothed. Sort of. Logan’s shirt is off, and I’m pretty sure I slept with my face planted against his ridiculously chiseled chest.
He even smells good, which might just make me hate him a little bit more.
“The phone, Olive,” Logan groans as the offending device rings again.
He’s an asshole, but he’s right. I look around the room for my ringing phone and take a little too much joy in throwing my elbow into his nonexistent gut as I climb over him to get to the nightstand.
His hands go to my waist, steadying me as Pete’s name flashes on the screen, and the room immediately stops spinning. Shit. How much did I drink last night? “Everyone shut up.”
The morons behind me snicker, and I rip the charging cord from the phone and walk into the living area on shaky legs. “Good morning, Peter.”
Well that was cheerier than I thought I could manage at this point.
“Something you’d like to share, Olivia?” Guess we’re cutting right to it then.
I look down at the three-carat solitaire sitting on my ring finger next to a sparkling platinum eternity band, and maybe I squirm.Just a little.How the hell did he find out so soon?
I can play this one of two ways.
Cocky and confident or completely unbothered. I’m not really feeling either at the moment, but unbothered portrays more confidence than cocky ever has, so that’s my winner.
“Not before I’ve had coffee, Peter.”
The door creaks behind me as Logan steps out of the bedroom. Thankfully, his shirt from last night is back on now. I switch the phone to speaker so I don’t have to replay this whole thing to Logan later. Not sure I’m up for that just yet.
“Olivia—”
“Do we have a problem I’m unaware of?” I ask. The best defense is a solid offense on the ice or in a courtroom, so I’m making it work here too.
“I’m not sure about that, Ms. St. James. Or should I call you Mrs. Adler?”
At least I know we’re both on the same page. It might not be the best page, but I signed my name on it, so ready or not, here I come.
“St. James is fine. I don’t plan on taking Logan’s name?—”
“Why the fucking hell did I have to find out my newest client and my star associate got married last night from a fucking email, Olivia?”
An email . . .Oh shit. An email.
I guess I did do that.
