I can barely hear him through the door, but my ears perk up when he says, “It’s about Logan.”
The chain lock clinks as I unlock it and I swing the door open. “What about Logan?” I ask breathlessly.
The old man doesn’t answer right away, taking in my PJs and disheveled appearance.
“Miss Harrison?” he asks.
I grip the door and answer, “Yes. I would really like to get straight to the point.” Even in my PJs I’m attempting to command a sense of professionalism. It’s laughable, but I don’t have the energy for small talk.
He nods politely. “What happened between you two,” he explains, clasping his hands in front of him. “Logan’s done this before. He destroyed a woman’s career, and it was extremely unfortunate to watch.”
I cross my arms, suddenly feeling extremely exposed and try not to let the tears pricking my eyes come. I hate how everyone knows. Worse than that, the implication this man is making. Logan wouldn’t do that. I shake my head slightly, but the man continues.
“You should sue him,” the old man continues. “Make him pay for what he did to you. It'll be hard for you to get a job if you suddenly find yourself unemployed, no? If you take him to court, you won’t have to worry about that.” I can’t believe this man has the audacity to make such an accusation. As if reading my mind, he holds up his hands in defense. “I knew her well. And she was never able to recover, so that’s why I’m reaching out to you. For your benefit and hers.” His voice is soft and soothing. It’s genuine. My heart crumples in my chest. I can’t breathe. Logan… set me up?
“But why?” I barely breathe the words out.
“He has a history of hurting others for sport.” I cover my mouth with my hand as my blood turns to ice and my stomach churns. No, I can’t believe that. “Mr. Parker has deep pockets. I’d bet he’d settle out of court to avoid the negative press it would bring his company. And you wouldn’t suffer over the damages he caused you.”
When I don’t reply, the man says, “I just wanted to let you know your options.” He hands out a gold-plated business card to me that reads, Johnny Black & Associates. “Here’s my card. If you decide you want to take action against Logan, call me.”
He turns and walks off, leaving me standing there running my finger along the edge of his business card and struggling to understand and accept why I fall for men who only want to hurt me.
Chapter 30
Logan
I look over the email from the lawyer once more. It’s on my phone as I sit in the car outside of Charlotte’s apartment. I’m pissed. I can’t stand waiting on the law for judges to sign off on warrants. I already have all the information they need. Although, it wasn’t obtained legally and for now I need to wait. Patterson is guilty, and I’ll spend whatever it cost to ensure he does jail time. I won’t settle on anything less.
But for now, I need to keep my head down and talk to public relations, according to the lawyer, Joseph Casings. I sigh heavily and sit back in my seat.
I grit my teeth. I don’t fucking like waiting. I can’t sit back and do nothing. Which is precisely what PR told me to do as well. To carry on as though nothing has happened. And as for Charlotte, she’s to do the same. Although I haven’t had a moment to speak with her. She hasn’t come to work, and I haven’t called her without knowing how to make this right. But I know now, I have something to offer her. I only hope it’s enough.
My body tenses and my heart slows as I think about how she must feel. I don’t know what else to do.
I fucked up though. Although Patterson would have found a way to use her against me, it’s still my fault that this is what happened. My ego gave him an opportunity that destroyed her, and no matter how much I’d like to deny it, it will affect her career. For awhile at least.
I sent out an email and made an announcement this morning. If anyone utters a word about those pictures, they’ll be fired. No questions or excuses. The legal department has to handle the rest, but it won’t be enough. Nothing can make it go away.
And now I’m sitting outside of her apartment like a lovesick puppy debating on crawling back to her and begging for her forgiveness. Debating on how, really. Not if I will… just the best way to go about it.
She needs to know that I’m sorry, and that I’m going to make it up to her as best as I can.
My heart hammers in my chest as I finally get out of the car and make my way up to her apartment, and again I feel that pain rip through me. I pause on the stairs and lean against the wall, waiting for it to pass. It doesn’t seem right. The pain radiates in my leg. Awareness races through me. My heartbeat slows with fear. But the pain seems to dim. I hold my breath, ignoring it and willing it to leave me the fuck alone. Something’s off, but it can wait. It has to wait until I’ve at least talked to her. I need to tell her. The pain lessens to a tolerable level, and I continue climbing the stairs with shortened breath. At the top, I consider calling Doctor Wallace. In the past two years, I’ve only called him once. My jaw clenches and with the pain nearly gone, I decide to let it go.