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“You glad we came back to Milan now?” Logan asks.
“Yes.”
“Even if you have to share a penthouse with me?” He cocks one thick brow, his signature smirk playing on his lips.
“I’d share a cardboard box with you after that show.” I sigh again as Logan chuckles. “It’s what I love. The story, the passion, the heartbreak.”
“The woman killing herself,” Logan says.
I shake my head, straightening my back away from the wall. “She died because of her love for him. Pinkerton married someone else and it broke Butterfly.”
Logan smiles. “Ah, that’s what I’ve been doing wrong. Forget the dating apps. The best way to find a woman is to marry someone else.”
A clouded expression passes over his face as though he’s just processed what he’s said.
“I don’t think that’s the moral of the story.” I shrug a shoulder, still riding my high.
My smile slips on one side as Logan meets my gaze, an unfamiliar look in his eyes.
“I thought you went on those apps for fun?” I narrow my eyes and study him.
He looks away from me.
“Logan?” I move to face him and see the seriousness taking over his face. “Oh my god!” I laugh in delight. “Seriously? The billionaire playboy actually wants to find love? And here’s me thinking you have those apps because you’re shallow and think with your dick. Tell me…” I tease, “… What’s wrong with them all? Why is no one perfect enough for Mr. Perfect himself, huh?”
“Leave it, Mads.”
“Do they not laugh at your bad jokes?” I smirk, tapping a finger against my lips. “Or maybe they have better jokes than you and you don’t like it.”
“Mads,” Logan snaps. “I said leave it.”
The atmosphere in the elevator plummets to icy. What’s gotten into him? We were having a great time when we left the opera. I was actually enjoying his company instead of enduring it. And now he’s acting all weird.
The elevator stops and Logan strides out when the doors open, heading to the penthouse. He opens the door, standing back so I can go inside first.
I step through and whirl to face him, a strange giddiness inside that I have something to toy with him about. I doubt he really has been a closet romantic all these years, but whatever it is, I’m getting to him, and it makes me feel strong, in control. I’m the one poking fun at his weakness for once. This is minor payback for the loneliness he made me feel years ago and all the jibes he’s made since.
“I’m not going to leave it,” I sing playfully. “I’m having way too much fun.”
I walk backward into the open living space as Logan follows, his eyes cast down, pulling off his bowtie as he walks.
“Can dish it out but can’t take it, eh?”
His eyes meet mine, flashing with something, before he walks over to the minibar, taking out two miniature bottles of something dark and pouring two glasses. He walks over to me and holds one out. I take it, knocking it back in one, the heat from the liquid fueling the manic fire that’s ignited in my gut, burning with years of frustration.Years of hatred.
Logan schools his features as I place the empty glass onto the sideboard before he’s even taken a sip from his.
I poke out my bottom lip, unable to resist goading him further. This is… fun.This is what we do.Me and him.
“Aww.” I pout. “Does the prince of pleasure get lonely at night, waiting for his princess to find him? Empty sex losing its shine?”
“Stop,” he growls in warning, his jaw tightening as he raises his glass to his lips. He sucks in sharply through his nose before knocking back his drink in one.
I laugh, my hands wrapping around the edges of the sideboard as I lean against it.
“Come on. Tonight’s been a great night. Give me something back. Where’s the asshole Logan that’s always ready to bring me down and put me in my place, huh?”
“You want me to be an asshole?” He steps closer, his fingers flexing around his empty glass.
