Chapter 13


    Logan jerked awake with a frown. The soft weight of Hannah’s delicious curves warmed his side, and


    the even puffs of her breaths across his jaw told him she wasn’t the reason for his sudden alertness.


    His little dove was fast asleep, worn out no doubt, after their earlier sexcapades.


    His cock jerked to life with a speed that left him rather lightheaded as all his blood pooled in his groin.


    So much for fucking her out his system. Having tasted her submission, made ten times sweeter by her


    usual fiery nature, he wanted to do it all over again. When was thest time he hadn’t woken up itching


    to get rid of the woman in his bed? Come to think of it, when was thest time he’d actually allowed


    himself to fall asleep with any of the women he’d bedded?


    Logan’s frown deepened, and then he heard it. A child’s sniffling, muffled cries, followed by a tentative


    knock on the doors to his suite.


    What the fuck?


    “Want Papa … I scared … Mummy…”


    Little Rhia’s heartfelt cries—a sure sign she’d had another one of her nightmares—made his chest


    tighten, and galvanized him into action. She oughtn’t be here at … fuck, four in the morning. What in


    the hell was Rosamunde thinking, bringing her here at this hour, when he was with…


    Logan swallowed another curse, mindful of the still sleeping woman in his bed. He carefully extricated


    himself from her delectable grasp, hastily shoved his legs into the old joggers he used for his time at


    the gym, and stalked out of the room. Another, much louder knock made the wood buckle, and this time


    he did swear out loud.


    He yanked the door open and came face to face with a disheveled, grumpy looking guy, who most


    definitely shouldn’t be anywhere near Rhia. This asshole reeked of cigarettes and the unmistakable


    odor of sex.


    “Who the fuck are you?” Logan’s growled curse had no effect on the other guy, other than to make him


    smirk. Not that he was paying him much attention because Rhia leaped across the threshold and


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    wrapped herself around his leg in a bear hug. Her little body shook in fear, and his joggers were


    instantly soaked through with her tears.


    “I’m sorry, sir, she wouldn’t stop crying, and I did try and ring you, but you didn’t answer, so I had to


    bring her here. This is Jack. He drove me. Jack, that’s Logan Br—”


    “Never mind the fucking introductions. What the hell are you thinking dragging her across town at this


    time of night?”


    Rhia clung tighter, and Logan pulled a deep breath into his tight chest, when her sobs got louder. It


    wouldn’t do to lose his temper in front of the little girl. She’d seen more violence in her short life than


    any child should ever be subjected to, but damn it all to hell and back. He wanted to hurt someone,


    something, to make them pay for this mess. None of this was Rhia’s fault, however, and he forced his


    clenched fists to uncurl and patted her dark curls.


    “There, it’s okay, munchkin. Everything will be fine.”


    Tearstained, big blue eyes, ringed by long dark eyshes, so reminiscent of her mother stared up at


    him, made his guilty heart clench in pain. Grief, remorse, and utter terror as raw and immediate as it


    had been the night this girl’s world had been turned upside down by the power of a man’s fists.


    He somehow managed to twist his lips into the semnce of a smile, and she stopped sniffling and


    popped her thumb in her mouth. She didn’t relinquish her ko bear impression on his leg, however.


    Behind him a door opened, and Hannah’s soft gasp piled yet more guilt on his head.


    “Well, hello there. Seems we interrupted something here, Rosa, babe.”


    Hearing this stranger address his little dove like that, and the insolent sneer as he appeared to look


    Hannah up and down made Logan’s good intentions fly out of the proverbial window.


    “Hannah, go back inside. This doesn’t concern you.” He flicked a nce over his shoulder and


    groaned. If this got out the papers would have a field day, because as adorable as Hannah looked


    wearing nothing but his shirt, she also looked like a thoroughly fucked woman. From the whisker rash


    on her neck, to the faint finger marks around her delicate wrists—fuck, I left bruises—to the disheveled


    hair, the kiss-swollen lips, and the blush that stained her pale skin, she practically screamed “had


    passionate sex”.


    “You.” He looked back at the other man. “Don’t get to look at what’s mine.” He fought the urge to nt


    his fist in this Jack’s insolent face, and addressed his ipetent nanny instead. “As for you.” He ran


    his gaze over Rosamunde’s appearance. The itty bitty little skirt and low-cut blouse she was wearing


    were most definitely not suited for looking after Rhia. Neither had they been the clothes this woman


    had been wearing when he’d left her in charge of the little girl. He pinched the bridge of his nose and


    shook his head.


    “You’re fired.”