Chapter 280


    Chapter 280 Contracts & Promises


    E


    The sun’ste afternoon light spilled into my office, casting long golden fingers over the documents I


    had meticulously drafted the previous night and spent all morning working on. I sipped on a cup of


    coffee, its bitter tang juxtaposed against the heavy sweetness of my lingering doubt.


    Instead of spending the day working on my case with Logan, which I should have been doing, I spent it


    writing up this contract. Every word, every line, every use had to be absolutely perfect. I had to


    protect myself, and this was the best way that I knew how.


    But in reality, what was I really doing? Could a simple contract-a piece of paper-really guarantee my


    safety in a world so deeply entrenched in intrigue and power ys?


    Of course, Logan waste. He was supposed to meet me at my office an hour ago, but he never


    showed. I figured that it would be just like him, to make this promise and then ghost me without signing


    the contract.


    Just as I was engrossing myself in a particrly tricky use, my phone buzzed. I almost jumped,


    spilling a few drops of coffee onto the corner of my desk. Anxiously wiping it away, I answered. “Hello?”


    “It’s Logan.”


    His voice was terse, the backdrop noisy. I could hear the echo of shouted orders, a revving engine, and


    something that sounded like metal nging on metal. Was he in a metal shop or something?


    “Logan, I have the contract ready,” I said, choosing to ignore these strange sounds. “We agreed on


    this. When can youe over to sign it?”


    There was a momentary pause. “Look, I know I promised I’d be there already, and I’m sorry. But I’m


    dealing with some… matters right now. But I’ve sent a car for you, and I called to check since it should


    be there by now. Come to the mansion.”


    I hesitated, my mind instantly shing back to Sarah’s chilling words from yesterday. The thought of


    once more walking into what might be a lion’s den made my heart race.


    “No,” I finally said, trying to muster as much courage as I could. “I won’t fall for any traps, Logan. We’ll


    sign this in a neutral ce.”


    “A trap?” He sounded genuinely surprised, his voice rising. “E, you think I’m trapping you? You don’t


    need toe, but the car is there anyway. If you change your mind, get in and my driver will take you


    here. I promise I’m not the boogeyman, or whatever it is that you think I am.”


    My heart was pounding as we hung up the phone. Was I really going to do this? Was I going to trust


    him? The papers on my desk seemed to mock me, the inked contract a stark reminder of the games


    and the power ys that were part and parcel of this world I had be involved with.


    The decision felt as if it took a lifetime, but finally, determination won over fear. This contract needed to


    be signed as soon as possible.


    Grabbing my purse, I hurried out of my apartment, the door clicking shut behind me. As I approached


    the car, the driver looked up and gave a curt nod. “Miss Morgan?”


    “Yes,” I managed to say, my voice unsteady. He opened the door for me, and I slid into the plush back


    seat, my heart in my throat.


    The journey to Logan’s mansion seemed both too long and too short, all at the same time. My mind


    was a whirlwind of questions and uncertainties, each mile that passed adding to the growing


    apprehension.


    When we finally arrived, I found myself almost frozen in my seat, my body refusing toply with my


    brain’smand to move. The driver had to clear his throat to prompt me.


    “Miss Morgan? We’re here.”


    I stumbled out of the car, my legs feeling weak. The grandeur of Logan’s mansion never failed to take


    my breath away, but today, it felt different. It felt like I was stepping into a lion’s den, voluntarily.


    “Logan’s in the basement,” the driver informed me as he closed the door.


    “The basement?” I echoed, both surprised and concerned. “Yes, Miss. Just follow the stairs down.”


    All rights ? N?velDrama.Org.


    I nodded and made my way into the mansion, my footsteps echoing in the vast emptiness. It was


    unusually quiet, the normal hustle and bustle of the servants missing. “This is stupid, E,” I thought to


    myself, chewing my lip. “Stupid, stupid, stupid.”


    My wolf, who was finally speaking to me again, only perked up as a familiar voice came into earshot.


    “Careful, Brian! Lift it gently!”


    Logan’s voice was followed by what sounded like a tter of metal and a muttered curseing from


    the basement. I quickened my pace, my curiosity piqued, and peered down into the darkness. There


    was a set of wooden stairs leading down, and I could see shadows moving around. They appeared to


    be banging on something. I heard grunting, and then the two shadows seemed to be dragging


    something heavy across the floor.


    “Bodies?” I thought to myself, swallowing. “Don’t be ridiculous, E,” my wolf’s voice responded. “Do


    bodies sound metallic when struck?”


    “You have a point.”


    I began to head down the stairs, although tentatively and fully prepared to turn and run if need be. But


    when I reached the bottom step, what I saw stopped me in my tracks and took mepletely by


    surprise, even more than bodies.


    Logan was there, his sleeves rolled up, his hands and face smudged with dirt and grease, working


    alongside one of the servants. It appeared as though they were… trying to fix a broken furnace.


    “Logan?” I called out, unable to hide the shock in my voice. He looked up, surprise evident in his eyes,


    and then a smile broke through. “E! You came after all.”


    I could only nod, still stunned by the sight in front of me. “What are you doing?” I finally managed to


    ask, taking a step closer.


    Logan wiped his brow with the back of his hand, leaving a streak of dirt. “Fixing the furnace. It broke


    down this morning. This is the infamous ‘trap’ you were so afraid of.”


    It was, indeed, not a trap at all. Rather, it was nothing more than a rusty furnace and two men who


    were covered in grease and dirt.


    Logan, no longer wearing his usual suit and tie, now wore a dirty white t-shirt and jeans. The sleeves of


    his shirt clung to his sweaty biceps. His dark hair clung to his forehead in certain ces, and he had a


    slight scruff of beard growing on his face from ack of shaving that morning.


    I hated to admit it, but he looked… hot. I had to quickly look away to hide the redness that was growing


    in my cheeks.


    But despite that, I was still utterly taken aback to see Logan, the incredibly wealthy son of a Mafia boss,


    actually getting his hands dirty working on equipment in the basement. Maybe that was why my next


    words, which werepletely rude and uncalled for, spilled out of my mouth before I could stop them.


    “A broken furnace?” I asked, looking up at Logan with wide eyes. “Isn’t this a servant’s job?”