Ties that bind

Logan -

I leaned back in my chair, watching Isabella leave my office. She held a notebook in one hand, a pen in the other, her expression focused as she reviewed the notes she’d just taken. It had only been her first week, but it was already clear—Isabella wasn’t the type to waste time or ask unnecessary questions. She was sharp, efficient, and professional to a fault.

As the door clicked shut behind her, Derek leaned casually against the frame of my desk, a skeptical look on his face.

“She’s quick,” he said, crossing his arms. “But aren’t you expecting a lot from someone who just started? You threw her straight into the deep end, Logan.”

I smirked, tilting my chair back slightly. “She’ll handle it.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, his expression unconvinced. “Confident, aren’t we? What makes you so sure?”

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk.

“If you’d come to my father’s wedding,” I said, my tone casual but laced with meaning, “you’d already know why.”

Derek’s brow furrowed, his mind clearly racing to connect the dots. “What does that have to do with anything?”

"Isabella is Claudia's daughter."

“Wait,” he said, his voice dropping. “Are you saying… Isabella is your stepsister?”

I ran a hand down my face, exhaling sharply.

“She’s not my sister,” I said firmly, my tone leaving no room for interpretation. “Don’t even go there.”

“But technically—”

“She’s not,” I interrupted, fixing him with a pointed look. “There’s no connection between us beyond the fact that my father’s new wife happens to be her mother.”

Derek blinked, still trying to process. “And you’ve known this the whole time? You hired her knowing she’s... He trailed off, clearly unsure how to phrase it.

“Of course, I knew,” I said, my tone clipped. “I’m not an idiot, Derek. She’s qualified, and I needed someone who could keep up.”

“But Logan,” he began, his voice low, “don’t you think this is... messy? What if people find out?”

“That’s exactly why you’re not going to say anything,” I said, my voice hardening. “I don’t need office gossip spiraling out of control. As far as anyone here is concerned, Isabella is just another hire. A competent one. End of story.”

Derek hesitated, clearly uneasy, but he nodded. “Alright. Your secret’s safe with me.”

“Good,” I said, leaning back in my chair again. “Because if anyone starts digging into her personal life, I’ll know where it came from.”

He gave me a mock salute, though his expression was still thoughtful.

*********************************************

Isabella -

The low hum of music and chatter wrapped around me as I stepped into the club. The warm lights danced across the dark, polished floor, and the upbeat rhythm of a pop song thrummed beneath my feet. My eyes scanned the room until they landed on the familiar corner booth where Grace and Carlson sat. Grace was already waving, her vibrant smile lighting up the dimly lit space.

I hurried over, sliding my bag onto the seat as I slipped into the booth. “I’m so sorry I’m late!” I said, slightly out of breath.

Grace laughed and gave me a mock glare. “Finally! We thought we’d have to order for you.”

Carlson chuckled, his easy charm evident in the way he leaned back, casually swirling a glass of whiskey. “Fashionably late, as always.”

I rolled my eyes but smiled. “Blame work. My first week has been... something.”

Grace leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. “Do tell. Hectic? Exciting? Terrible? All of the above?”

“Kind of hectic, but good,” I admitted, taking a sip from the water Carlson handed me. “I’m still adjusting to the pace, but I’m enjoying it. The work is challenging, and Logan—my boss—he’s tough but fair. It’s not as terrifying as I thought it’d be.”

Carlson raised an eyebrow, his deep brown eyes meeting mine. “Enjoying it? That’s a good sign. Looks like this move wasn’t a mistake after all.”

“It wasn’t,” I said, a little defensive but mostly proud. “I’ve got a lot to prove, but I think I can handle it.”

Grace smirked, tapping her glass against mine. “That’s my girl. Kicking ass already.”

As we laughed, the server brought over a tray of appetizers, and the conversation shifted to lighter topics. Grace recounted her latest disaster of a Tinder date, complete with dramatic reenactments.

When the laughter died down, Carlson set his glass down and leaned forward slightly, his tone more serious. “Hey, Isabella. Would you like to come to my lake house next Saturday?”

“Next Saturday?” I repeated, my heart fluttering.

“Yeah,” he said, a small smile playing on his lips. “I figured you could use a break after your first week. Plus, I think you’d really enjoy it out there. Just us, the lake, and no work emails.”

This wasn’t just an invitation to a weekend getaway—it felt like a step forward in our relationship, a quiet acknowledgment of something more.

“I’d love to,” I said finally, my voice steady despite the butterflies in my stomach.

Carlson’s smile widened. “Great. I’ll make all the arrangements.”f