Chapter 5

Logan

Elena is quite the knockout. She is sitting in front of me, and I'm already having a hard time focusing. I'm staring down at her gigantic, green eyes as they skim through the lyrics to a song. It's one I requested her to sing at my wedding, but I'm more captivated by Elena.

From the first time I looked into her eyes, I felt instant chemistry, like a lighting bolt surging through me, but this woman is doing everything in her power to fight what is already there.

I wonder why?

Maybe it's because I'm supposed to get married?

Probably. Elena doesn't know that it's a contracted marriage with no authentic emotions involved. It's a business marriage that needs to last for two years to inherit my grandfather's company and money.

My grandfather didn't want me to turn into a playboy billionaire like him. So now, after his death, his testaments declare I need to be married to inherit his money, or else everything will go to my sister, who, by the way, is married with children already.

Melodie is aware of this and wants some of the money for herself. I can't complain. She knows not to fill in for divorce within two years, and I would lie if I claimed my cock didn't twitch at the thought of her.

Melodie is hot, and she definitely likes me, but Elena has taken over my brain for the past few days. I can't get the way she looks at me out of my head. She seems so offended every time I say her name, as if she expects me to hurt her, and I want to know why.

"I like this song," Elena comments.

I smile, unable to help myself. "It's one that I can relate to."

A shy smile spreads onto her lips, but her eyes are still glued to my phone as the song plays. "I didn't expect you to be the kind of guy who listened to love songs—I was wrong."

When I don't immediately answer, she licks her lips in a nervous response and lifts her chin to look at me, and my dick is already hardening in reaction to seeing her wet, beautiful lips.

Do that again.

Fuck me.

Elena, you're gorgeous.

I want to see your tongue on my skin—imagine those soft lips wrapped around my cock. If I could remove that conservative blouse without consequence, I would be on the buttons in a flash to expose that delicate skin around your neck. I wouldn't mind sucking it.

"I hope I didn't offend you!" Elena exclaims.

"Not at all," I breathe. "Why would I be offended?"

My eyes travel back to her insecure eyes, and I ask myself how such a beautiful woman can have such lousy self-confidence. Elena seems to be that kind of person who apologizes for everything; she did when I caught her admiring my dick, and then she acted as if I would find that fact repugnant.

In reality, I loved watching Elena relishing the picture of my dick. I don't know why I'm so taken by her. Usually, I can get whoever I want. When I first meet an interesting lady, I put on the charm, and if my smile doesn't go home, I flash my Dubai First Royal MasterCard and Voilà, panties thrown at my face every time.

"I don't know..." Elena admits. Her cheeks are flushed; am I making her nervous? "Anyway, I don't think I can sing this song." She points at some lyrics with a grimace. "My voice won't go that low without it sounding incredibly fake and lackluster."

I smirk. "How low can your voice go without you sounding lackluster?"

Elena and I have a bit of a staring contest. She seems to smolder in her seat, which makes me want to laugh. Flirting with this woman is different; every dirty remark or comment earns me a glare. Elena isn't easy to impress—I love that.

"I won't answer that question." Elena returns to staring down at my phone, and that server from the other night appears by our table.

The server is young and beautiful, with a tight ponytail keeping her hair in place. Her eyes silently trail me up and down appreciatively. But, unfortunately for her, I only have eyes for Elena.

"Elena..." The young server seems to be anxious about something. She won't stop opening and slowly closing her mouth. "Um... I know you wanted to order lunch from the kitchen... But..."

Elena looks up from my phone. "What's the matter, Emma?"

Emma stares down at her feet, hanging her head in shame. "Audrey kinda went home early, and Jenna isn't here yet. I texted her, and she said she will be here in thirty minutes, but..."

Elena looks ready to explode. "What is with this place and everyone thinking they can call in sick at the last minute and go home early whenever they want?!"

Emma swallows thickly. "I know..."

Elena growls and plants her face on the table with her arms parked around her head. "Sorry... I'm not mad at you, Emma; I'm just so frustrated with this place sometimes..."

Emma nods. "Me too... I haven't eaten yet, and now I can't order lunch from here."

I glance down at Elena, hear her gurgling stomach, and then get up from my chair with newfound determination. It's been ages since I cooked something for a woman. I usually take my dates out to some flashy restaurant before inviting them to a hotel room.

"I'm not a MasterChef," I say and smirk in amusement when Elena lifts her chin to stare at me in confusion. Maybe this will be my chance to win her over. "But I'm skilled in the kitchen. Give me a pan, and I cook us lunch."

Emma is already celebrating. Her eyes take me in for several moments; she looks like I offered her a new car. It would probably be easy to get her down in bed with me, but I'm fishing for bigger fish.

"You can cook?" Elena doesn't sound convinced.

"Of course, all the well-equipped men know how to cook." I wink at Elena, satisfied when I see her irritated face catching color. I'm about to rock her world with my cooking. Embrace yourself, Elena. "Show me to the kitchen, Emma."