Logan Reynolds

Logan Reynolds

Viola McCoy still holds her breath when she’s nervous.

I shouldn’t have noticed that. Shouldn’t have remembered. But the second I said her name, I saw it—the way her shoulders tensed, the slight hitch in her throat. The way she refused to look at me.

I want her to look at me. To say something. The girl I knew would have. She used to joke that her voice was made for radio and her face for the goddamn silver screen. Full lips, high cheekbones, curls that spilled over her tanned shoulders. Blue-gray eyes that always sparked with warmth. Skin that glowed like liquid silk in the sunlight.

But that girl is gone.

Her hair is straight now even though she used to say she hated straight hair because they were too basic and boring. Her eyes have lost its warmth. She wears crisp white shirts with an expression I can’t quite place.

But I see through it.

I don’t blame her for pretending I don’t exist. Maybe I don’t, not to her. Three years is a long time. Long enough for me to become someone she doesn’t recognize. Long enough for her to hate me.

But not long enough for me to forget.

I take a step forward, my body moving before my brain can stop me. The elevator doors are still open. I could follow her inside. I could force her to face me, force her to say something—anything.

But I don’t.

She’s already rattled. And maybe that should satisfy me. That I still affect her, even now.

It doesn’t.

The doors start to close, and the weight of it really hits me. Three years. Three years, and I’m nothing to her now.

“Logan.”

A voice snaps me out of it.

Grant Steele, my best friend, steps up beside me. “The meeting’s about to start.”

I nod, but I don’t move. My eyes stay locked on the silver elevator doors as they slide shut, taking Viola with them.

And for the first time in years, I feel something I swore I’d never let myself feel again.

Regret.

For letting her slip through my fingers. For leaving her behind. For following my father’s wishes instead of fighting for the one thing that ever truly mattered.

I couldn’t go against him back then, I was his heir, after all.

But when I finally had that power, Viola was already gone. Two years ago, I reached out, only to find out she was already planning her marriage to Julian Cruz. One of my closest college friends.

She moved on so quickly.

And I had no one to blame but myself.

“I’m glad you’ve seen for yourself that Viola McCoy wants nothing to do with you.” Grant’s smug voice slices through my thoughts.

I shrug, quickening my pace as we both walk down the hallway. Grant knows everything—how I chose ambition over love, how I walked away from Viola like she was nothing. And while we worked in Argentina together, he never let me forget it. Always mentioning her name, always reminding me of what I lost.

Now I’m back in Chicago. Taking over headquarters.

But for what?

The woman I love is gone. Worse, I’ll see her every damn day at the office and I can’t do anything because she hates me. Because she’s moved on, because she belongs to someone else now.

The realization sinks in as we stop outside the conference room. My throat tightens. Christ, why does my tie feel so damned tight? I can’t breathe properly.

I reach up to loosen it, but my fingers find nothing except damp cotton. No tie, only a vise around my neck and a fist strangling my lungs.

“Do not think about her for now.” Grant pats my shoulder. If gestures came with vocal cords, this one would be saying, you’ve lost, bro! “We have more pressing issues at hand.”

***

The meeting lasted for hours. And I could’ve sworn my mind was elsewhere throughout. Viola. Viola. Viola. I hate that she keeps coming into my thoughts, that taunting image of her.

I take a deep breath as I watch the board members walk out of the conference room one after the other.

“It’s nice to know a young mind is finally taking over the company.” says one of the company shareholders, Gary Simmons. He shakes my hand as I get on my feet to properly address him. “We hope you can take Reynolds Publishing to the next level.”

I give him one of my casual smiles. “And it’s good to know people like you believe in me.”

He nods before he finally walks out of the conference room, leaving just me. I take a deep breath as I sink back into my chair.

I feel overwhelmed. Not because I’m finally taking over that corporation I’ve worked so hard for. But for the weight it carries, for the expectations it holds.

For the rest of the day, I’m consumed by work. And it’s a good thing because then, I don't have unwanted thoughts pushing its way through my mind.