Chapter 2

I stare up into Logan's blue eyes—he looks so angelic, innocent, and all I want is to punch his handsome face and destroy him for future women. He ruined my self-confidence. I was deeply, madly in love with him in the past, and after confessing my love and condition, the bastard said I would never be a real woman. He is the pain, but he sure as hell isn't the goddamn cure!

What is he doing here?

Does he know who I am?

Did he come here to laugh at me?

Logan tilts his head after finding me glaring daggers into his annoyingly handsome face. God certainly gave this idiot everything, money, sexy veiny hands that look good with his watch and now he has even found true love.

Why does God favor this man? Logan deserves to be beaten by a club and buried by a spade! The pain he caused me, its all washing up to the surface, making me see red. I hate him, and yet there is a tiny, little piece of my traitorous heart that still loves him.

I'm pathetic.

I could never have Logan in ways other women could, and yet I entertain the idea of raking my fingers through his hair and kissing his lush lips with abandon. Hating him is complicated when he looks like sex-on-a-stick, but I've heard sex with someone you loathe is the best—it's why women end up on the table under their boss while he unbuckles his belt.

"Is something the matter?" Logan asks.

I sneer, feeling my teeth on my lips. "Did you go to Townsend Harris High School?" I ask, only to make sure I'm not about to pour my drink over the wrong bastard. I'm seething.

"I did." Surprise flicks into his eyes. "Do I know you?"

There is a stirring in my head; Logan doesn't realize who I am! I almost start laughing. Part of me wants to tell him who I am, ask him to take a careful look at me now, and dare him to stay that I'm still not a real woman. I saw him looking at my breasts earlier, which filled me with some sick satisfaction. I. Am. Disgusting.

Still, it gave me confidence. It seems Logan finds me attractive at first glance. Of course, if he knew who I was, that would drastically change, but I can bask in the attention he is giving me for now. It makes me feel powerful.

I exchanged everything I own to turn into this, and although I will always feel flawed because I wasn't born like this, other people glancing my way fills me up with confidence. And Logan's eyes are eating me up at the moment.

"No, I don't think we have met," I tell him and reach out my hand without ever letting my eyes leave his. I smile at him, hoping it won't mirror the war going on inside my head. "I'm Elena... Elena Johnsson."

"Are you Swedish?" Logan asks as he takes my hand. His handshake feels electric—my insides hum in some primal response.

"Why?"

He smiles. "Just answer the question."

I never told Logan that my mother's name was Johnsson before she married her ex-husband and that she is part Swede, so I don't see the point in lying.

And no, I don't intend on letting Logan know my true identity. Pretending I'm not the Ethan that Logan once knew seems like the safest option. My heart won't bleed.

"I have some Swedish blood running in my veins, yes."

Logan nods. "Now that you've confirmed it, it's easy to recognize; you have a beautiful face, very Swedish,"

Wow.

He really doesn't recognize me?

And he called me beautiful?

I gaze into his eyes, hating how I'm already on the verge of tears simply because he called me beautiful. A storm rages on within my heart, but my guardian angel is sleeping, unable to hear my cries for help. I no longer want to stand here—it hurts too much to look at this man.

"Thank you for the compliment." My chest is constricting. I want to run away and cry somewhere where no one can see me. Buying Ben & Jerry's and then watching romantic movies all night while crying and asking why I'm single sounds lovely. "I-I have to change my clothes, but I will keep your card!"

Logan looks at me with readable concern. He is beautiful, more than I could imagine in my dreams, but I never want to see him again.

"Did I say something wrong?" His blue eyes shimmer.

I shake my head, smiling briefly. "Not at all; why do you think you said something wrong?"

Logan takes a step closer, and I'm forced to tilt my head to see his eyes, watch the concern unfold on his face. "Because you're crying,"

I'm buzzing, extremely aware of him. "I'm just tired from my performance; it can be scary standing on stage sometimes." Nervous laughter comes out through my mouth. I have to get away from him before I suffer from a mental breakdown. "It was nothing you said. I'm actually happy that you want me to perform at your wedding, flattered, really."

"So you will do it then?" His voice has taken a lower tone, and he is watching me under the dim light coming from the lamp hanging in the ceiling, probably trying to figure out if we have met somewhere before.

I swallow thickly. "I-I will need some time to think about it!"

"You would make me very happy." His voice reverberates through me. I'm so conflicted, angry, and attracted to him at the same time. Seeing him trying not to look down into my cleavage is driving me mad. "And the wedding will be held on a small tropical island; I will pay for your ticket and even let you bring a friend. All I need is your beautiful voice on the stage. What do you say?"

At this moment, I'm ready to promise Logan anything as long as he leaves me alone. When Logan is around me, I can't breathe, can't think logical thoughts. He is like a virus, something that travels through my entire body and spreads ash and destruction wherever he touches.

"S-Sure," I smile. I can always turn Logan down later. Agreeing to this doesn't mean my words are sealed in stone. "I will call you sometime next week."

Logan is still watching me with his intense, blue eyes. "I will be the one to do the calling." His lips turn playful then, and the curiosity in his eyes can't be rivaled. "I have a feeling you won't actually call me."

I meet his smile. "You got me all figured out, huh?"

He laughs. "Most definitely not. I have met many people during my career, and trust me when I say you seem to be one of those people with a hundred layers."

"Is that a bad thing?" I can't help but glare at him.

"Not at all." He lifts his hand to order one of the same drink, and Emma shoots me a look that says: "who is this?"

I smile at Emma, who comes over with Logan's drink. She offers him a well-practiced smile, stares down at his ring for a fleeting second, and then rolls her eyes. Fuck. She thinks I'm one of those here-to-steal-your-man women!

"Is there anything else you want?" Emma asks after noticing Logan's expensive watch. Good girl! Her game face is on; it's time to make money. "We have a wide variety of snacks."

"I'm good, thank you." Logan hands her a polite smile.

I silently watch their exchange and then move for the door close to the bar desk but stop myself in the doorframe. My fingernails tap against the wall as thoughts circle inside my head.

"How will you call me? I don't remember giving you my number."

He can't be some sort of stalker, right? Logan is going to get married, but I never did hand him my number...

Logan turns around with a smile. "Your face is on the employee wall; I believe you're the owner of this place, correct?"

I blush. "Right..."

His lips curl higher up his face, giving wake to dimples. He looks so good under the dim light with his expensive clothes and styled hair. "Rehearsals will start next week, but I will contact you before then to talk about what songs I would want you to play. I'm keeping it all a secret from my future wife; I want your performance to be a surprise."

I raise my eyebrows. "Are you sure she will like my voice?"

He smiles. "Melodie has heard you sing before, years ago in this same bar, and so I came here to find you." Laughter comes out through his lips. "I got lucky to see you perform."

Melodie, huh?

Well, that is a beautiful name. Despite our history, a tiny part of me is happy that Logan has found the one, but then there is that voice telling me he doesn't deserve happiness after shattering me into oblivion.

Logan broke me to pieces. I was his best friend, and he spat in my face. Hurtful words left his lips; he called me disgusting, and simply remembering makes me glare at him with tears prickling behind my eyelids.

How could he so easily hurt me? Calling Logan a man is an insult to other men because while Logan's face is beautiful, he is ugly on the inside.

Seriously, how could he be so mean to me in the past? How!?

My heart wants revenge, and since Logan is obviously attracted to me, maybe it's possible to mess with his head; he shattered my heart—it's only fair I get to play with his. If I accidentally drop it, then it's on him. He broke me first.

A smile graces my face. "You know what? I look forward to helping you make your wedding into the best day of your life."