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Arriving at my apartment, I opened the door and immediately forgot all about Logan. The sound of gut-wrenching sobs reached me, and I dropped my purse on the floor as I rushed into the living room, following the sound. I found my mom sitting on the couch, her face buried in her hands.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, my heart breaking as I took a seat on the sofa beside her. I’d only seen her cry like this one other time in my life, and that was when my grandmother died.
“Oh, Mia…” she lifted her face and tried to wipe away her tears, looking embarrassed. “I didn’t hear you come in. Dinner isn’t ready yet…”
“Don’t worry about that,” I said, waving away her concern as I reached over to the coffee table and grabbed a box of tissues. I offered it to her, and she wiped her nose and cheeks. “Just tell me what happened.”
“It’s just my car,” she said, trying to sound nonchalant and completely failing. I hated that she felt the need to minimize her problems for me, like I was still a child and she was trying to protect me. “It broke down today. The mechanic says it’s the transmission. According to him, it’s not worth making such an expensive repair on a car that’s almost twenty years old.”
Shit.
I understood why she was so upset. She used to have a much nicer car, but it was repossessed when she lost her business. The old sedan she was driving now was the only thing she could afford from the buy-here-pay-here car lot. It was a hunk of junk, and we knew that, but I had hoped she’d have the thing for longer than two short months before something serious went wrong with it.
“It’s okay,” I said, but we both knew that wasn’t true.
“How am I supposed to get to work?”
My mom had just started a new job to get back on her feet a few weeks ago. It was a management position at a greeting card store, and I knew that losing the job because she didn’t have reliable transportation would be another blow to her self-confidence that she wouldn’t take well. I couldn’t let that happen.
“I’ll figure something out,” I promised her. “You have tomorrow off, so let’s not worry about that now.”
“You don’t need to figure it out for me, Mia. I’m the parent here, and you’ve already done too much. What kind of a mother am I if I depend on you to solve all my problems for me?”
I hated that she felt like this about herself. I had to do something about it.
“Don’t worry, Mom. I have a plan,” I assured her, forcing a smile onto my face at the realization of what I was going to do. “I promise. By the end of the year, I’ll have enough money to take care of everything.”
Her brow furrowed into a frown. “But how?”
“I’ll tell you later,” I said, patting her arm. “How about we just order a pizza tonight? You can make that chicken tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
I was glad to see that her tears had stopped. And I meant what I said. I was going to have the money soon. I was going to do what I had to do to take care of my mom.
I was going to marry Logan Reid.
* * *
I had nerves of steel the next day as I walked into Logan’s office with his morning coffee and a plan. For once, I didn’t bother to knock. I knew he was alone inside, and I wanted to make a point right off the bat. If I was going to pretend to be his wife, I was going to be his equal in this arrangement.
Setting down his coffee, I took a seat in front of him, keeping my back straight and meeting his eyes. I could see the curiosity burning there, and something else. Intrigue, maybe.
Attraction?
It doesn’t matter. You’re here for a reason that has nothing to do with that.
I was probably imagining it anyway.
“I will help you. I’ll be your wife,” I said, the words seeming strange coming out of my mouth. “ButI have some conditions.”
Logan’s relief was quickly followed by a wary look on his face. “Such as?”
“Let’s start with my compensation,” I replied, smoothing my hand down the front of my skirt—and couldn’t help but notice that Logan’s gaze dropped to my bare legs before flicking back up to my face. “I’m happy to take a payment at the end of the marriage, but I want something from you right now.”
Logan smirked as he leaned back in his leather chair. “Tell me, Mia. What is it you want from me?”
Okay, there was definitely an erotic edge to his words. Maybe I didn’t imagine the attraction in his eyes after all.
