Saint (A Dark Mafia Romance)(83)

I clear my throat, trying to salvage this in some impossible way, “Your hair looks, uh, different than than before.” She looks like she's almost about to concede - almost - but then I of course open my mouth again. “And I mean, you look a lot older now than back at your Dad's wake- ” Fuck. I wince as she shakes her head at me and I bring my hand up to push it though my hair. “I'm fucking this up pretty badly aren't I.”

“With flying fucking colors, yeah.”

I mean it's true. I hadn't seen her since her father's funeral like five fucking years ago. But shit, looking at her now, would I have even said no to a girl like this even if I knew? I mean she's a knockout to begin with, but it doesn't help that while that bridesmaids dress teases at what's beneath, I actually know what she looks like naked. And the thought of her naked is making me harder than it should right now, given the situation. She brings a hand up and pinches the bridge of her nose as she takes a deep breath. Like this whole thing is some sort of headache she just has to deal with. “Look, let’s just get through this thing.”

“And cheers to the happy couple!” I grin, trying to lighten the mood. She smirks, but then that flush comes back into her cheeks and she shakes her head again.

“Look-” She stabs a finger towards me, still keeping her distance with her back up against the hedge behind her. “Not a word, to anyone about-”

“Quinn, I'm not going to-”

“To anyone, Logan.” She almost looks scared, like I'm some dirty little secret that might come tumbling out, and I can't tell if that amuses or pissed me off more.

“Look I fucking get it, okay?”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

Ah yes, this is progressing just like an adult conversation should.

“Look, I have too much going on up here in my head to even think about this right now, okay?” She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. “I'm about to stand up with my sister while she gets married and I have an insanely busy first day at a new position tomorrow.” Her arms are still crossed over her perfect chest, and she's still glaring at me like I'm some sort of bad guy. “At my Dad's-” She stops and frowns. “At your fucking company, actually.”

I'm about to open my mouth when she shakes her head, cutting me off. “You know what, it's like you said. Let's just get through this, okay? Cause after this, I don't have to see you, and you don't have to see me until at least Thanksgiving or some other family gathering.”

Ah, fuck, she doesn't know.

I almost want to laugh, except I think I might be too surprised to.

Quinn shakes her head. “And until then, we can drift back off to being strangers, okay?”

Well, this is about to get even better.

She knows that her new job is with Archer Holdings in the company's new humanitarian healthcare outreach program. What she doesn't know is that it's my program, and what's quickly dawning on me is that as of tomorrow, I'll be working side-by-side with this girl for the next three months.

She stops as she notices my silence and narrows her eyes at me. “Oh, what is it, Logan?”

Oh yeah, this little meltdown is about to go fucking nuclear.





Chapter Three





Quinn




One Week Ago:



It’s almost 3 a.m. by the time I get home from what will be my last team meeting at the hospital for the next few months while I work on the outreach program at my Father’s company. I’m grinding my teeth and muttering under my breath as I stand in the lobby of my loft building, hammering the elevator button, and it’s not even the fact that it’s late and the birthday bash I was invited to is long over that’s got me pissed off either. It’s that leaving my team after that whole thing feels like giving up, and admitting defeat.

It also seems totally fucking unfair.

‘It’s just not appropriate, Quinn. I can’t be seen dating one of my staff. Especially one that’s a shoe-in for team leader.”

In theory, Andy has a fair point, except it loses just a little bit of credibility when I walked into his office a week ago to see one of the other young Doctors on the team blowing him.

And honestly, that’s not what has me so furious. I mean it’s not like I ever thought Andy was “the one” or anything, and it was hardly a passionate affair, unless you count hidden dates and maybe four fairly unsatisfying intimate encounters over as many months as passionate.

And I don’t.

What I’m pissed about though is just the hypocrisy of it, and I hate hypocrisy. It’s telling me “being professional” is the reason things have to end when you’ve got Vicky fucking Spears’s lips wrapped around your cock in your office.