My Sassy 2

The next morning, I woke up with a slight headache—a reminder that I’d had one too many glasses of champagne at the gala. I groaned, rolling over in bed and burying my face in the pillow. I really regret going to the gala. Even though that wasn't in my plan, now it won't happen again. That's right; I won't let it happen again.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I reached for it with one eye open. I frowned because, in the morning, people were going to crash into my sleep. Won't they give me a break? I just got back from last night's gala, and I'm exhausted.

It was a message from Marianne, filled with emojis and exclamation points, talking about how amazing the night had been and how Logan Pierce had actually talked to me.

Isn't this woman losing energy? She was like this last night. He insists that I am lucky that one Logan Peirce spoke to me. Why am I lucky? Maybe Logan is even luckier.

I almost rolled my eyes at what I was thinking earlier.

It has been confirmed that Marianne is a crazy woman. Yes.

I rolled my eyes. Trust Marianne to make a big deal out of nothing. I tossed the phone aside and forced myself to get out of bed. I had work to do, and I wasn’t about to let some random conversation with a billionaire throw me off.

After a long shower and a strong cup of coffee, I started to feel more like myself. I sat at my desk, laptop open, ready to dive into the project I’d been working on. It was a big one—a campaign for a new tech startup that had the potential to put me on the map. But as I stared at the screen, my mind kept drifting back to Logan Pierce.

I couldn’t help it. There was something about him—something that got under my skin. Maybe it was the way he looked at me, like he was trying to figure me out. Or maybe it was just the fact that he’d bothered to talk to me at all. He was probably used to people falling over themselves to get his attention, so why single me out?

“Focus, Aliyah,” I muttered to myself, shaking my head. I had work to do, and daydreaming about Logan Pierce wasn’t going to help me get it done.

I managed to push thoughts of him aside for most of the day, diving into my work and losing track of time. By the time I looked up, it was already late in the in the afternoon. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. I grabbed my phone, planning to order something quick, when it buzzed with a new message.

It was from an unknown number. The text read: "Lunch? I know a place."

I stared at the screen, my heart skipping a beat. There was no name, but I had a pretty good idea who it was. He has a lot of ways to get my number; one of them is asking me, but he ended up getting it from others. Hesitating for a moment, I typed back, Who is this? "

I know who he is, but I want to be more clear. I dont want to be an assuming person here after all.

The reply came almost instantly: "Logan Pierce. Interested?"

I swallowed saliva. Confirmed.

But why did this man think to text me? What the hell?

I should’ve said no. I knew I should’ve. But curiosity got the better of me. I also want to know why he's texting me. I want to know how the hell he got my number.

After a moment’s pause, I replied, "What did you have in mind?"

Twenty minutes later, I found myself standing outside a small, unassuming café that I’d walked past a hundred times but never noticed. It was the kind of place that was easy to miss if you didn’t know it was there. Logan was already inside, sitting at a corner table with a view of the street. He looked different in the daylight—still confident but more relaxed, like this was his escape from the high-pressure world he usually lived in.

I took a deep breath and walked in, reminding myself that this was just lunch. Nothing more.

“Glad you could make it,” Logan said as I approached the table, a slight smile on his lips. He stood up, pulling out a chair for me. I was surprised by the gesture—it was almost considerate. Not what I’d expected from someone like him.

“Curiosity got the better of me,” I admitted, sitting down. “This place is..." I looked around and saw something. "Different.”

“I like it,” he said, sitting across from me. “It’s off the beaten path. Quiet. No one here cares who I am.”

I nodded, trying to read him. There was something almost vulnerable about the way he said that, like he was tired of the attention that came with his name. But before I could say anything, the waitress came over, and we ordered.

“So,” I said once she left, folding my hands on the table, “what’s this about? I can’t imagine you inviting just anyone out to lunch.”

Logan leaned back in his chair, studying me for a moment before answering. “You’re right. I don’t. But I’m curious about you, Aliyah. You’re different.”

I felt a flicker of annoyance. “You keep saying that. What’s so different about me?”

He didn’t hesitate. “You’re not impressed by the same things most people are. You didn’t care who I was last night. You weren’t trying to get something from me.”

“Why would I? ”I shot back. “I’m not interested in playing games.”

“Exactly,” he said, leaning forward, his gaze intense. “And that’s what makes you different. Everyone else is always playing a game, trying to figure out what they can get from me. But you’re honest. Direct. I like that.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I didn’t. Instead, I just looked at him, trying to figure out what his angle was. Was this some kind of test? Is there a way to see if he could get under my skin?

Before I could ask, the waitress returned with our food, breaking the tension. We ate in relative silence, the only sounds being the clinking of silverware and the occasional murmur of conversation from the other tables. Despite my initial reservations, I found myself relaxing a little. The food was good, the atmosphere calm, and Logan, well, he was surprisingly easy to talk to once we got past the initial awkwardness.

As we finished our meal, Logan set his fork down and looked at me seriously. “I want to work with you, Aliyah. I think we could do something interesting together.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Work together? On what?”

“Projects. Campaigns. Whatever you’re interested in,” he said, his tone casual but his eyes sharp. “You’ve got talent, and I’m always looking for new perspectives. No strings attached.”

I leaned back, considering his offer. It was tempting, no doubt about it. But I wasn’t naive. There was always a catch with guys like Logan. “What’s in it for you?” I asked, narrowing my eyes.

He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Let’s just say I like a challenge. And I think you might be one.”

I didn’t know what to make of that, but something told me this was just the beginning. Logan Pierce wasn’t someone who gave up easily, and if I wasn’t careful, I could find myself in way over my head. But there was a part of me—maybe the part that was tired of playing it safe—that was intrigued by the idea.

So instead of turning him down, I nodded slowly. “Alright, Logan. Let’s see what you’ve got.”