slip into the back of the ballroom, an image of me marrying Logan, dressed in a slave collar, jeweled piercings and nothing else flies through my head. I grin at the ridiculous thought, but then sigh. Dad would have a fit if I even mentioned the name ‘Logan’ and ‘marry’ in the same sentence. Better break it to him gently.
Then my eyes fly open wide at the thoughts so casually running through my head. Not that Logan wants to marry me. It’s too soon to be thinking about that. Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. I need to sort out my life first and he’s never even said—
“Here we are,” Rachel says, breaking into my thoughts as she pauses before a back door to the ballroom. Beyond the white and gilt doors, the crowd murmuring is a dull roar.
“One sec.” I check my purse and pull out my phone. No missed calls. Nothing from dad. Or Logan. Am I happy or sad about the latter? “The nurse said she’d have Dad call when he woke up. She must have forgotten--”
“Shit, Daphne,” Rachel interrupts. “do you have the ring?”
Right. Almost forgot. I pull it out of my purse. “Right here.”
A bevy of servers, dressed in black tuxedos with gold cummerbunds, stream by. Rachel pulls me into an alcove.
“Are you going to wear it?” Rachel’s eyes are wide.
“No.” Rach looks so shocked, I take pity on her. “I have a plan.” I dig in my purse and pull out the long green opera gloves I ordered along with the dress. I tug them on and drop the ring back in my purse, then waggle my fingers at Rachel. “See? Doesn’t go with the outfit.” She looks doubtful, but I pull out of a pair of white gloves for her. “It’ll make sense when we match.”
I check my phone again as she pulls on her own pair of gloves but no texts or calls have come in in the last minute and I put it away.
“Ready?” I ask.
“I guess. You seem eager.”
“I am.” I can’t believe it, but I am. I’m ready to get this done with and prove to myself once and for all that I have changed. I place a hand on the fancy gilt door, ready to push it open. Nervousness flutters in my chest, but I expect it, embrace it.
For the first time in my life, I’m owning what I want. And I’m going to fight until I get it.
Twenty-Four
7 Years Ago
Logan
I flip through the secure notes from the investor meeting while standing in the lab. I had to do some finagling to even get my hands on these but there are still some people in the company who know how closely I work with Dr. Laurel and respect me.
Ha. That’s a joke if I ever heard one, but I’ll take what I can get while I can get it. I haven’t talked to the great Professor in weeks and I barely even caught a glimpse of him at the funeral. I was far more concerned with Daphne, whom the great Dr. Laurel barely took note of. His own daughter.
I used to think he was a great man doing great things.
Now I think he’s just…lost. And he never treated his daughter right. But if he’s not careful, his company is going to get stolen out from underneath him by his board, headed by that blond bastard, Adam Archer.
I flip to a third page and my eyes scan the first few lines. “What the fuck?”
I slap the papers down, disbelieving, before lifting them back up and continuing to read. “That son of a bitch.” I knew Adam was a slimy opportunist, but I didn’t realize he was this slimy.
Footsteps have me looking up, and there he is, the son of a bitch in question.
He’s got a shiny apple in hand and he takes a big, obnoxious bite. “Miss me?” he asks through his mouthful of apple.
I point at him. “I see you. I see what you’re trying to do to this company.”
“What?” He throws his hands in the air. “Make it profitable? Bring out the firing squad for such a horrible offense.”
Jackass. “I know what you did. I know you took credit for all my innovations in the lab. Anyone with eyes can check the lab logs and know it would’ve been impossible for you to have discovered what you said you did. You haven’t even been here.”
But he just laughs at me. “You think anyone gives a shit about lab logs? It’s