Ella
The grandeur of Logan’s family estate was unmatched, the chandeliers glistening with thousands of crystals, reflecting the light in the room. I hesitated for a moment on the threshold, taking in the lavish spread of food and guests buzzing with conversation.
My previous assumption had been sorely inaccurate. This was not a mere family dinner. It was a statement, a spectacle. And I was the trophy on his arm, the daughter of the CEO of WereCorp. An accessory.
I put on a smile, though, if only to play my part—just as Logan had requested. It was part of our plan, after all. And after what happened with the billboard, Logan’s motives behind wanting to take down the Mafia were becoming more clear to me.
Logan was ever the commanding presence. Every move he made, every word h
