Resisting Mr. Rich (The Men Series Book 8)

“IT’S GOING WELL… YES, I’m eating, Mum.” Logan talks on his phone as he gazes out the car’s window, one elbow resting on the doorframe and his hand rubbing back and forth over his jaw.

He’s freshly shaven. I noticed it when he collected my suitcase for me in Milan. And that… bothers me. It bothers me that my first reaction to him when I opened the door to him this morning wasn’t my usual frown. This time my frown had a companion—my eyes. And they were intent on tracing the smooth line of Logan’s newly shaven jaw like it deserved my attention.

I know what this is. My mind is playing tricks on me, trying to fill the void that reading and listening to books gives me. I haven’t had my daily escape I treasure so much today. I tried on the private jet over to Rome this morning. But there must be something wrong with my earbuds because my audiobook sounds funny. Nate Black’s voice deserves earbuds that portray his smooth tone perfectly. Instead, I listened to music as I worked. Then when I switched that off, I kept my earbuds in and sat watching the view from the window as we landed. Logan didn’t speak to me, probably thinking I was still listening to something and couldn’t hear him.

They’re the perfect Logan deterrent.

It’s why I’m sitting in the back of the car as we’re being driven through Rome with them in my ears, even though they’re not playing anything.

“She’s enjoying seeing the sights when she gets the chance.” Logan glances at me, and I pretend I’m fascinated by something outside.

“Yeah, I’ll tell her.” He pauses and then laughs softly. “How’s Dad?”

A change in the air makes me sneak another look over at Logan. His brow is furrowed, much like last night on the walk back to the hotel. He clears his throat and his jaw ticks as he listens to his mum.

“I know. I thought he would as well. I don’t understand why he’s so hellbent on it. It doesn’t make sense.”

He sighs and the heaviness in it makes me twitch.

“I don’t…” Logan lowers his voice and inclines his head toward the window, away from me. “I can’t do that. She’s not… Exactly. I doubt she will either.”

Are they talking about me? This is why it’s a bad idea to eavesdrop. I can’t ask Logan what she said because then he’ll know, and it’ll give him more ammo to ridicule me with.

He makes a few more sounds of agreement and then ends the call, his gaze remaining outside the car until we come to a stop.

“Where are we? This doesn’t look like a hotel.” I pull my earbuds out and stare at the giant building in front of us.

“Because it isn’t.” He smirks, back in full-asshole mode as he exits the car and holds his hand out to help me.

I climb out without his help and look around. We’ve driven up a long sweeping driveway and through metal gates to get here. That should have been my first clue. But I was too busy listening to his private phone call to pay attention.

“This is a palace,” I gasp.

I gaze up at the giant cream building. It has large archways forming a cover over the main entrance. They’re held up by giant pillars. So thick I couldn’t fit my arms around if I tried. Each window in the building is curved, stone architraves above each one. There are even two rounded walls, one on either end of the building with turreted roofs, like a fairy-tale castle.

“No. Just one of our properties.” Logan shrugs as I turn and gape at him. “Speechless, Smiles? That’s not like you.”

I close my mouth, fighting the urge to smack him in his smooth jaw.

“Am I being taken to my hotel after our first meeting?” I resist the urge to feed Logan’s ego further by checking out the mansion again and instead keep my eyes fixed firmly on his face.

Instead of answering me, he helps the driver get our suitcases from the trunk.

“Can you put Ms. Harper’s suitcase in the East wing guest suite, please.”

The driver nods and takes our suitcases in through the front door.

I shake my head so fast I’m surprised my brain doesn’t rattle. “No. No, no, no. I’m not staying here with you. The office has booked me a hotel room.”

“A closet, you mean?” Logan’s expression is unreadable as he looks at me. “You’re not staying in any other places the office has booked for you. You’re with me from now on.”

“Like hell I am,” I hiss. “I don’t want to see your naked ass when you get out the shower or walk around in your underwear drinking coffee in the mornings.” My mind chooses this moment to flash the image of Logan’s suit-panted dick outline from that day in the office. I take a deep breath before bile can rise from my stomach.

He shrugs one shoulder. “I don’t think you’d be saying that if you saw the size of my—”

“Stop!” I throw my palm up in front of his face. “I don’t want to be sick.”

He uses his pointer finger to slowly nudge my hand out of the way so he can look into my eyes.

“—the size of my coffee machine.” He raises his brows. “Finest Italian beans from our neighbor’s personal supply.” He sweeps his arm toward where his nearest neighbor must live, but it must be miles away. This isn’t a palace; it’s an estate with manicured lawns and flowering gardens as far as the eye can see.

It’s nothing short of spectacular.

I look up at the house again. Anything not to look at Logan.

“I’m glad my discomfort in this situation amuses you,” I huff.

His voice deepens. “Mads?”

I still don’t look at him.

He places his hand on my lower back, and I jump as electricity sparks through my skin. Logan takes his hand away, likely warned by my body’s natural reaction to him. My built-in defense mechanism.

“Your room has its own bathroom. And if it makes you more comfortable, I’ll make sure to wear multiple layers of clothing around the house in your presence, okay? Maybe ten. I can sweat out toxins at the same time and call it a cleanse.”

I purse my lips and chance a look up at him. He’s not smirking anymore. His mouth is relaxed. But his eyes still hold the shine of mischief they always do.

“You could do with a cleanse.” He’s in a navy suit today—Italian leather shoes and belt, another crisp white shirt, and expensive, fresh cologne. “Will it sweat out a bad attitude as well?”

“I don’t know. But we could try it on you first and then we’d know,” he answers without missing a beat.

I bite back my smart retort because that would only prove his point.

“Come on. I’ll show you around before the meeting.”

This time, he doesn’t try and lead me with a hand on my lower back. He lets me walk ahead, the heels of my black patent pumps clicking on the shiny marble floor as we walk into the entry hall.

“Logan,” I breathe in awe.

“You like it? Drew and Tanner organized the re-model when we first bought it.”

I recall Drew saying he was working on something for Leonard Rich once. But that was years ago when Tanner’s company was a lot smaller than it is now. It was only a few months after Drew had joined him to work together. They were barely out of their teens. This must have been a huge project for them to have won the bid when the business was still so small.

I chew my bottom lip as I look around the lavish cream marble interior. The sweeping staircase is like the one Cinderella walks down to enter the ballroom. Were Drew and Tanner given this job by Leonard out of guilt? Guilt at Drew being sent away when Logan wasn’t?

“It’s beautiful,” I admit as he takes me on a tour. It’s like walking into a glamorous Italian film set. The kitchen is giant and overlooks the swimming pool and gardens at the rear of the house, and there’s a seating area by the floor-to-ceiling doors that lead outside. It’s the perfect spot to read in the morning sun.

Logan shows me from room to room. Including his home office for when he works here, which he tells me he does often because being in the business of luxury engines used in super cars and yachts, amongst other things, he has a lot of business to take care of in Italy. Now I get why he speaks fluent Italian. I don’t know why I didn’t know this already.

The more he shows me around the property and tells me about its history and what he does when he stays here, the more holes appear in that knowledge. And the realization that there’s a lot more to discover about him has an uneasy tightness growing in my chest.

I’ve hated Logan Rich for years. It’s the way it’s always been. It’s the way it always will be. It’s as certain as the sun rising each day.

“This is Mum’s dressing room.” Logan walks into the huge space. The walls are lined with shelves of designer shoes and purses and racks upon racks of clothes.

In the center is a giant island of glass-topped drawers with a huge vase of lilies on top. I peer through the glass at the rows of watches, jewelry, belts, and purses. There’s an entire section of intricately detailed silk scarves down one side, each more beautiful than the last.

“If you see something you like, Mum said to help yourself.”

“What?” I drag my eyes away from the scarves and look at Logan.

“Most of it hasn’t been worn. The staff keep it stocked in case Mum visits. But they rarely come to this house anymore. They use the one in Florence. This one’s mine now.”

Logan’s face doesn’t hold the delight in it that I would expect when you’re telling someone that you own a palatial Italian estate all to yourself. But the closest I’ve ever come is buying my own small apartment, which is hardly comparable. Still, I cracked open multiple champagne bottles when the sale went through a few years ago.

“We need to leave for the meeting in twenty minutes. Let me show you your room.”

One and a half hours later, I’m smoothing down the deep red pencil skirt that I’ve tucked my blouse into as we exit the car. I run a hand through my curls as I look at the yacht moored in Ostia Marina. Logan said we’re fortunate to have secured a meeting. Apparently, this man is harder to pin down than a first edition copy of The Gutenberg Bible.

I look at Logan. He’s changed into a deep gray suit that makes his eyes glow a brighter green.

Today’s meeting is with a man called Sterling Beaufort. Logan said he’s never met him, but Sterling knows Leonard from business they did years ago. He’s American, so I’ll be able to follow along what’s being said. Logan briefed me before we left Milan. Apparently, as well as owning a multi-billion-dollar jewelry business, Sterling runs a collection of elite members-only clubs around the world. The types of places that don’t exist to you unless your bank account has infinite zeros after the first figure. Logan’s hoping Sterling will invest a sizeable amount, and I get the feeling he’s nervous about this meeting.

“Ready?”

He looks at me and gives me a tight smile. “Always.”

We head along the walkway toward a man in navy slacks and a white shirt—one of the crew from the yacht—who welcomes us onboard. I step on and we follow the man to the top deck where a table is set up, covered in platters of fruit, and a bottle of something chilling in an ice bucket.

I try not to make it obvious I’m looking around. I should be used to the luxury that goes along with obscene amounts of wealth by now. Especially after Logan’s marble palace. But my eyes still widen at the sheer beauty of the yacht.

“Mr. Rich?” A handsome man with silver hair stands from the table to greet us. His eyes land on mine and he gives me a warm smile, his blue eyes twinkling. “I can see you brought beautiful company.”

He shakes Logan’s hand and then takes my hand, never breaking eye contact. The devilish glint in his eye, paired with a wolfish smile, works for him, making it charming, albeit in an intense way.

This man screams power and doesn’t care to hide it.

“I’m Maddy. Nice to meet you.”

He invites us both to sit and pulls out a chair for me, pushing it in for me as I sit.

“Short for Madeleine?”

“Maddox, actually,” Logan interjects, clearing his throat as he takes the seat next to mine.

“How unique.” Sterling’s eyes stay on mine, and I shiver in my thin silk blouse under his scorching gaze. I’ve never been into older men, he must be around my father’s age, but he’s helping me to understand the appeal.

I swallow, aware of his eyes tracking my every move with interest. They stay on my face as he motions for a member of staff to come over and pour us drinks. Then he lifts a crystal champagne flute and hands it to me.

“To new beginnings and exciting ventures.”

Sterling clinks my glass first and then Logan’s. Logan thrusts his glass a little too hard and some of Sterling’s champagne slips over the side, spilling onto his hand. Sterling’s lips quirk into a smile as he places his glass down and dries his hand on a linen napkin before giving Logan his full attention.

“So, you want forty million?”

I accidentally swallow a huge mouthful of champagne and a bubble lodges itself in my throat. Logan said Sterling’s time was precious. He’s obviously a man who likes to get straight to the point.

Logan hands me his napkin, his eyes meeting mine for a second before he looks back at Sterling. I take it gratefully and cover my mouth to cough quietly.

“You’ve read the proposal I sent. Sixty is more in line,” Logan says, his voice deep and confident.

I pat my lips with the napkin before placing it down on the table.

Sterling’s eyes narrow, the corner of his lips curling up. He turns his eyes onto me as he speaks to Logan. “You said forty.”

“Plans change,” Logan snaps.

Sterling’s eyes twinkle with amusement as I turn away and stare at Logan. He’s being so rude. I want to kick him under the table and ask what the hell he’s playing at.

“Fifty,” Sterling says.

“No deal.” Logan stands to leave and fastens his suit jacket with one hand. “Mads, we’re leaving.”

A deep chuckle breaks free. “Is he always like this?” Sterling asks me.

I open my mouth, wondering if I should apologize on Logan’s behalf. But I’m not his minder. He’s a grown man and if he wants to stuff up this deal by being a rude jerk, that’s up to him.

“Mads,” Logan growls.

I smile politely at Sterling as I push my chair back. “It was nice meeting you.”

Sterling dips his chin and smiles. Then he looks back at Logan. “Sit back down and have a drink with me and I’ll give you the sixty.”

“You want us both to sit again, then the price just went to sixty-five,” Logan growls.

I bite back my gasp as I look between the two men.

There’s silence for a few seconds, then Sterling throws his head back and laughs, slapping a hand on his thigh. “You’re like your father.”

“Thank you.”

Logan places his hand on my lower back, ready to lead me away. Electricity fires across my skin.

“Sixty-five,” Sterling muses, his eyes twinkling as he watches Logan’s stiff posture. “Okay… We’ve got a deal.”

I let out the breath I’m holding. He’s talking about sixty-five million. And judging from the absence of sweat on his brow, it’s mere pocket change to him.

Wow.

Logan’s fingers flex against my lower back, and I gulp as he stares at Sterling, now on his feet, standing and waiting.

Take the deal. I wish I could slap Logan around the head for being such a rude jerk. Here he is, being given the opportunity to boost Vex’s fund, and he’s deathly still, except for the subtle movement of his thumb smoothing over my blouse at the base of my spine.

I swear they must be able to hear my pulse thundering in my veins from the tension swirling around us.

After a long pause, Logan turns back to the table and tips his chin at my abandoned chair. “Sit.”

I comply, my eyes shifting back and forth between the two men. He pushes the chair in for me, his eyes fixed on Sterling.

He takes his seat next to me as Sterling sits back down too, his eyes staying on Logan.

Then the meeting continues. Logan slips back into business mode, relaxing more as they discuss the project. He no longer looks like he’s about to burst a blood vessel. And Sterling seems genuinely excited about it. He’s a nice guy. He asks me about sightseeing in Milan, and I tell him where I went and what was my favorite—Teatro alla Scala.

By the time we leave, it’s as if nothing ever happened.