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I roll my eyes, "Oh, come on, Bailey. You're being dramatic. Get in, let's talk."
"No, thanks. I'm not interested in whatever you're selling." She continues her march down the sidewalk.
I let out a sigh and keep crawling along next to her, cars honking behind me. "Bailey, I'm going to cause a traffic jam behind me until you get in this car." I glance at the irritated drivers in my rearview mirror. She continues her stubborn march, her jaw set in determination.
"Logan, I don't really fucking care."
I set my jaw and make a decision. I'm done playing.
"Bailey," I say, my tone losing its playful edge. "Get. In. The. Car." I rarely use this tone.
She stops in her tracks at my command. She glances back at the growing line of honking cars, then at my face.
"Fine!" She yanks the car door open and slides into the seat with a thud.
Thatta girl.
I turn my gaze from the road to Bailey, her arms crossed and her face set in a furious scowl. "Bailey," I start my voice cautiously. "I'm sorry. I didn't know Greene was your client." She scoffs and looks out of the window, but I continue, "I messed up. I should've checked with you first."
Her face softens a bit, but she's still glaring at me. "You think? Logan, I've worked so hard to get where I am. I've put in countless hours, sacrificed so much, and it actually means something to me. But you? You stroll in, all charm and sarcasm, and everything just falls into your lap."
Her words sting more than they should. I take a deep breath, swallowing the lump in my throat.
"I got caught up in the heat of the moment... during the pitch." I feel the need to clarify as memories of us in the closet flood my brain. "I should have let you know what was going on."
Her gaze shifts from the window and settles on her hands in her lap.
Is she thinking about the closet scene too? The way our bodies meshed together, how her hands roamed over my back, the sound of her gasp in my ear...
I shake my head, clearing the distracting thoughts.
"Bailey," I call, trying to recapture her attention. "Bailey, this job, it means something to me too."
She turns to me, her icy expression thawing.
"I... I need to prove that I can do this. That I'm not just Logan, the billionaire's son, but Logan, the man who can stand on his own feet."
Her eyes soften, and for a moment, I think I've gotten through to her. But then she hardens again, her walls back up. "Just because you have something to prove doesn't mean you can trample over everyone else to do it, Logan." She turns away from me, her gaze fixed on the world passing by outside.
I look at her, my chest tight. Vulnerability was never my strong suit. “Bailey, I’ve always had everything handed to me. Cars, clothes, women… I’ve never had to work for anything. Anything, except some fucking respect.” I find my grip tightening around the wheel, my knuckles turning white. “All I want in this world is some respect.”
“Logan, respect is earned." She looks at me. “And it's not handed out for sob stories." Her words hit harder than I anticipated.
As if on cue, the car stops at a red light. Bailey looks at me one last time before she unbuckles her seatbelt. "I'll walk from here."
Before I can protest, she opens the car door and steps out, closing it with a definitive thud.
My eyes follow her as she disappears into the crowd, her words echoing in my head. My grip loosens around the wheel, her words having hit their mark.
I was pissed at what she said, but there was a painful truth to it and that pissed me off even more.
13
BAILEY
As the door to my apartment closes behind me, I crumble onto my bed, my body heaving with sobs that have been pent up for too long. My mind is a chaotic mess of emotions that overwhelm me.
The stress at work feels like a physical weight on my chest, suffocating and unbearable. I've put in so much effort, so many hours, and now it felt like it was all for nothing. The promotion seems more like a distant dream, slipping further away every day.
