The next day after our little fight, I knew I had to make things right with Cale. Our ride last night had been completely silent-no teasing, no bickering, just the weight of unspoken words hanging between us. I had dropped him off at his place and then driven back to my penthouse, my thoughts stuck on our argument.
So, as always, I did what needed to be done. I went to his favorite bakery to pick up some things for him-not that I was gonna hand them to him directly. That wasn't how we worked. Instead, I just placed the cake and a few other things on his desk in his cabin and left before he arrived. This was how we reconciled, every damn time. If it was his fault, he'd bury himself in work until I physically had to stop him. If it was mine, I'd bribe him with his favorite things until he caved. No apologies, no awkward conversations-just silent understanding.
By afternoon, I was in Cale's office, and just like that, the fight was over. One minute we were discussing business, and the next, we were back to normal, no apologies necessary. It was just how we worked.
The peace didn't last long.
In the evening, we were supposed to have another meeting with Titan Industries-nothing major, just a standard discussion. No CEOs needed. But at the last fucking minute, they changed the plan. Now Logan King himself was attending.
Was he fucking crazy?
Cale barely batted an eye, just adjusted the agenda and prepped like the professional he was. Less work for me, at least.
The meeting started, going as usual-discussions, negotiations, the usual back-and-forth. But just like last time, I could feel it again. That damn gaze.
I didn't even have to look up to know who it was.
Logan King.
Staring at me. Again.
If I ever got the chance, I'd rip that damn smile off his face-and take his fucking eyes while I was at it.
The meeting finally ended. Handshakes, polite nods, all the usual business bullshit. Boom. We were done. Clear. Nothing else to deal with.
Now, all I wanted was to get the hell out of here.
Straight to my penthouse. Away from all this. Away from him.
"I heard Cale owns a club," Logan said, his voice carrying that same smooth confidence he always had. He leaned back in his chair, watching for a reaction.
I barely spared him a glance. "Everyone knows that."
Cale, the bastard, grinned like he was enjoying this a little too much. "And yet, Kael still hates going there."
Logan raised an eyebrow, eyes flicking between us. "Not a fan of clubs?"
"I prefer silence," I muttered, shifting my gaze away. The last thing I wanted was to explain myself to him.
"Well," Logan continued, that amused tone still in his voice, "since I'm in town for a while, I'd love to check it out."
I immediately sat up straighter. No. Absolutely fucking not.
Cale, of course, saw this as a golden opportunity. "Then you have to come tonight! No excuses," he said, eyes lighting up. "You'll love it."
I turned to him sharply. "Cale-"
"And Kael will be there too," Cale added before I could finish.
I narrowed my eyes. "Excuse me?"
Cale shrugged like he wasn't fucking betraying me right now. "You're not ditching me again, Kael. You owe me."
Logan chuckled under his breath. "I'll be looking forward to it, then."
I clenched my jaw, my fingers curling into fists under the table.
Fucking fantastic.
Now I was stuck with two things I hated.
Clubs. Logan King.
All thanks to Cale, who was particularly enjoying himself at his damn club while I sat in the VIP booth, practically sinking into the seat with a scowl.
The place was packed, filled with the usual mix of betas, omegas, and alphas looking to drink, dance, or get laid. Music blasted from the speakers, the bass thrumming in my chest. Neon lights flashed across the walls, making everything feel loud.
Cale was already in his element, ordering drinks like he owned the world-which, in here, he pretty much did.
"Less alcohol for Kael," he told the worker, giving me a knowing smirk. "Can't have my assistant getting wasted."
I rolled my eyes. "You make it sound like I get drunk every time I drink."
"You get moody when you drink," Cale corrected.
Logan, sitting across from me, tilted his head slightly. "You don't like drinking?"
I exhaled sharply. "I don't like losing control."
Logan didn't comment, but his eyes stayed on me for a beat too long before shifting to Cale. "This place is impressive. You built all of this?"
Cale beamed with pride. "Yep. Took a few years, but now it's one of the top clubs in the city. You should see it on a Friday night-absolute madness."
"Tonight already looks like madness," Logan remarked, watching the packed dance floor.
Cale laughed, taking a sip of his own drink. "Yeah, but that's the fun part."
I ignored their conversation, focusing on my drink instead. But even then, I could feel Logan's gaze shifting back to me every once in a while, like he was studying me.
I gritted my teeth. If I ever got the chance, I was getting rid of his eyes and that damn smile.
The meeting had ended. We had shaken hands and done all the usual corporate bullshit. That should've been the end of it.
But no.
Stuck in a club I hated, across from an alpha I hated more. Thanks, Cale.
I took a long sip of my drink, letting the slight burn of alcohol distract me.
This was going to be a long fucking night.
He wouldn't stop staring. Not even when Cale got up to mingle with his club friends, leaving just the two of us in this damn booth. That fucker. This fucker.
Whatever.
I ignored him at first, focusing on my drink instead. But somewhere between his persistent gaze and the alcohol warming my system, I drank more than I should have. Bad idea. My usual cold demeanor mixed with unfiltered bluntness? A fucking disaster waiting to happen.
I slammed my glass down, my eyes locking onto his. "What the fuck are you looking at?" My voice came out sharper, colder than I intended-but I didn't care.
Logan didn't even flinch. The bastard just tilted his head slightly, that same infuriating smirk tugging at his lips. "You."
I scoffed, leaning back against the booth, my glass resting loosely in my fingers. "And why the fuck would you be looking at me?" My voice came out sharper than I intended, the alcohol making my words cut straight to the point.
Logan took his sweet time answering, swirling the drink in his own glass before meeting my gaze again. "Because you're interesting."
I narrowed my eyes. "Bullshit."
His smirk widened slightly. "You don't believe me?"
"No," I shot back instantly. "Alphas don't find omegas like me interesting unless they're looking for a challenge or a fucking plaything. I'm not either."
Logan leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. "You assume too much about me." His voice dipped lower, smooth but firm, like a quiet warning. "And I don't like being underestimated."
"And you assume I care."
His eyes darkened just a little, the amusement flickering into something unreadable. "You do care. Otherwise, you wouldn't be so defensive."
I let out a short, humorless laugh. "You think this is defensive?" I gestured toward myself, my posture relaxed but my glare sharp enough to cut. "No, Logan. This is me being tolerant."
His eyes didn't leave mine. "Then why haven't you left?"
I clenched my jaw. Because Cale is my only excuse to walk away. Because I was already drinking more than I should have, and standing up too fast might make me worse. Because-fuck-I hated this conversation, but I also hated losing.
So instead, I took another sip of my drink, eyes locked onto his as I swallowed. "I should."
I should. I needed to. But somehow, I stayed, trapped between the weight of his gaze and the alcohol making everything feel a little too easy.
Logan hummed. "But you won't."
Fucking hell, I needed to punch that smug expression off his face.
Cale strolled back to the booth, immediately catching the tension crackling between us-my murderous glare locked onto Logan, and that smug bastard sitting there with a fucking smirk, completely unbothered.
That's when Cale, the absolute menace, decided to open his mouth.
"Stop eye-fucking guys," he said, flopping down onto the seat with an exaggerated sigh, like we were the problem here.
I snapped my head toward Cale, shooting him the nastiest glare I could muster.
"Shut the fuck up," I growled, grabbing my drink and taking a longer sip than necessary just to ignore whatever bullshit he was about to spew next.
But of course, Cale lives to piss me off.
"I'm just saying," he hummed, twirling his glass like he had all the time in the world. "The tension here is so thick I could cut it with a knife. And honestly? Kinda hot."
I choked on my drink. "Excuse me?"
Logan chuckled-fucking chuckled-and leaned back like he owned the damn place. "Didn't know I gave off that kind of impression, but I'm flattered," he said, tone dripping with amusement.
I wanted to punch him. Or maybe myself for getting into this situation in the first place.
"See?" Cale pointed at Logan like he just proved his point. "That little smirk? That flirty tone? Tell me you don't feel the sparks, Kael. Tell me."
I slammed my glass on the table. "The only thing I feel is the urge to throw you both out of this damn club."
Cale just grinned. Logan? He watched me like he was entertained. Like I was some interesting puzzle he wanted to solve.
And I fucking hated that.
The night dragged on like that-Cale running his mouth, Logan staring at me like I was some fascinating little mystery, and me resisting the overwhelming urge to commit a felony.
By the time I finally got out of there, my head was buzzing-not from the alcohol, but from sheer frustration.
I made it back to my penthouse, slamming the door shut behind me. Unfortunately, I returned without murdering an asshole or two.
A fucking shame.