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“Even better. You’ll be happier.”
I shake my head, tension creasing my brow. “That’s bullshit.”
“The universe never planned us, Logan. We were just—"
“Just what?” Anger swirls like a tornado inside me. I’ve heard her say we were a mistake so many times now.She’s wrong.
“Something short and sweet, but not forever.” Regret pours from her voice. “Everything comes to an end one day.”
I’m unable to form the words I so desperately want to tell her. Because no matter what I say or do, she’ll always push me away. Always deny what this is between us. I’m used to fighting for what I want. But I’ve always known I’d win. The dread balling in my gut and making sweat slide down my spine tells me this might be the first time I don’t.
“Just…” She sighs like she’s being crushed slowly, every last hint of breath being forced from her body. “… think about it. Think about your family. And what you deserve.”
“I don’t need to think about—”
“Promise me.”
She’s crying. The sound of it fucking rips my heart in two.
“Smiles,” I choke.Don’t cry, baby.
“Promise me,” she urges. “Really think about what you deserve, Logan. Because it’s more than what I can give you. It’s more than what I’ve ever given you.”
“Mads?”
“Bye, Logan.”
The line goes dead.
She’s gone.
Chapter 28
Logan
TalkingtoMaddy,hearingher so despondent, has set something in motion inside me. I’m not giving up. I’ve got new ideas to run past Dad. I’ve been looking at the accounts, finding places we can reduce costs, stripping everything back as much as I can.
Therewillbe another way. I just need more time to figure it out.
“What the fuck?” I stare out the windshield at the giant back loader that’s blocking my parent’s driveway as I pull up in my car. I roll down my window and stick my head out. “What’s going on?”
A guy in cargo pants and a logoed polo shirt standing next to the vehicle looks up from his clipboard. “Won’t be much longer, then we’ll be on our way.”
I jump out of my Aston Martin, leaving the door wide open as I crunch over the gravel toward him.
“I asked what’s going on?” I stare past him to where a man in a matching polo is at the rear of the loader waving one arm in the air. Another guy drives Dad’s Maclaren up onto the back of the truck, following his directions.
“Business with Mr. Rich,” clipboard man says, tucking his pen behind his ear as he holds an arm out and points into the garages. “And the others,” he calls to his colleagues. “We’re taking the lot.”
“I’m his son,” I say as a guy jumps into another car and the engine purrs to life.
“Logan Rich?” Clipboard man says.
“Yes,” I hiss, taking in the sight of Dad’s entire collection of super cars get rounded up. He loves these cars. I grimace as one of the guys drives one too hard and gravel flies up into its paintwork.
“Is that a Vulcan?”
I follow clipboard man’s eyes to my car. “Yeah, why?”
