Jean's blood boiled as Logan smirked at her from across the restaurant. He leaned back in his chair, radiating amusement, as if he were enjoying a private joke at her expense.
Of all the places, of all the people.
She had been expecting a dull, mind-numbing dinner with another stranger her mother had handpicked. Instead, she had to deal with him.
"What the hell are you doing here, Logan?" Jean demanded, crossing her arms.
"Waiting for you princess." He winked.
"What!"
Logan tilted his head, his smirk widening. "I could ask you the same thing, princess. Didn't think blind dates were your thing."
Jean stiffened. Of course, he knew.
Everyone did. It was impossible to keep it a secret when her family made sure the whole city saw her as the perfect, obedient daughter waiting for a match. But what he didn't know… what no one knew… was that this was a cage she couldn't escape.
Jean's fingers curled into fists at her sides, nails digging into her palms as Logan's smirk widened. The sheer audacity of him, sitting there like he owned the place, like he was the one she was supposed to meet.
Her blind date… where was he?
Jean shot a glance at the empty seat across from Logan. "Where is he?" she demanded.
Logan took his time lifting his glass, swirling the deep red wine before taking a slow sip.
"Who?"
Her glare hardened. "My date."
"Oh." His voice was all smooth amusement.
"He canceled."
Jean's heart dropped before anger took its place. "What?"
Logan leaned forward, elbows on the table. "I might've mentioned that you were already taken."
Her breath hitched. That bastard.
"You had no right," she hissed.
His smirk never wavered. "Didn't I?"
Jean inhaled sharply, forcing herself to remain seated when all she wanted was to throw the expensive wine in his smug face. "Why are you here, Logan? I know you don't do things without a reason."
Logan sighed dramatically, tilting his head as if considering her question. "Maybe I was bored. Maybe I missed you." His smirk turned predatory. "Or maybe I wanted to see how long you'd keep up this charade."
Jean gritted her teeth. "What charade?"
He leaned in, lowering his voice to something silkier, darker. "That you're happy playing their perfect little puppet."
Jean stiffened. The amusement in his eyes flickered into something sharper—calculating. "You know nothing, Mr Logan Kingsley."
"Tell me, Jean." Logan traced the rim of his glass with a finger. "Do you really want to be here? Another pointless dinner, another man handpicked for you like you're nothing more than a business transaction?"
Her pulse pounded. He was too close to the truth, too close to the suffocating weight she carried every single day.
"You know nothing about my life," she snapped.
Logan arched his brow. "Don't look so surprised, princess," he murmured. "I pay attention."
Jean swallowed the lump in her throat. She wouldn't let him get under her skin. Not again.
"I don't care why you're here, Logan," she said coldly. "But this dinner is over."
She pushed back her chair, but before she could stand, Logan's fingers wrapped around her wrist—firm, warm, and commanding.
"Sit down, Jean."
The way he said it, quiet but authoritative, sent a shiver down her spine. Not from fear. From something more dangerous.
Slowly, she sat back down, her breath uneven.
Logan's grip loosened, but he didn't let go entirely. "You're going to hear me out," he said.
Jean lifted her chin defiantly. "And why would I do that?"
His smirk returned, slow and knowing. "Because… I was kidding."
Her entire body froze. Logan laughed at her face. "This is my table Jean, I'm here with my date."
Jean's world tilted. She could barely breathe. She couldn't even hide the embarrassment seen on her face.
And just like that, Logan Kingsley had checkmated her again.
"This isn't funny Logan," she said coldly.
Logan chuckled, picking up his glass of wine. "Relax, Jean. I'm not here for you." He took a slow sip, letting the words sink in before adding, "I have my own date. This table is reserved for me."
Jean blinked, momentarily thrown off. "What?" She looked around, and found another empty table with her and her date's name on the cue-cards.
"There she comes." He gestured lazily toward the other side of the restaurant, where a tall, striking woman coming from the washroom 's direction, checking her phone. She looked beautiful, elegant… exactly Logan's type.
Jean clenched her teeth. Of course.
This was nothing more than a coincidence.
"Well, sorry for wasting your time," she bit out, turning to leave. But before she could take a step, her actual date arrived.
"Miss Adams?"
Jean turned, forcing a polite smile as she took in the man standing before her. He was fine… tall, well-dressed, and probably another businessman hand-selected by her mother.
"Yes," she said smoothly, extending her hand. "You must be…"
"Jim Carter." He shook her hand with a firm grip. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you."
Before Jean could respond, Logan let out a quiet chuckle.
Brandon glanced at him, then back at Jean, his brows slightly furrowed. "Is everything okay?"
Jean shot Logan a glare. "Yes. Everything is fine."
Logan smirked, not even trying to hide his amusement. "Don't mind me, Mr Carter. Jean and I were just catching up."
Jim's posture stiffened slightly. "You two know each other?"
Logan leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand. "Oh, we go way back."
Jean forced a tight smile. "It's irrelevant."
Jim seemed to accept that and gestured toward their reserved table. "Shall we?"
Jean nodded and started to follow him, eager to put as much distance between herself and Logan as possible. But just as she passed his table, Logan's voice stopped her cold.
"Enjoy your date, princess."
Something about the way he said it, mocking yet strangely knowing, made her stomach twist.
She didn't look back.
But she could feel his eyes on her the entire way to her seat.
Jean sat across from Jim Carter, forcing herself to maintain a composed expression as he scrolled through his phone, barely acknowledging her presence. The waiter had already come by twice, and both times, Brandon had waved him off, too engrossed in whatever deal he was managing to bother ordering.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he set his phone down with an exaggerated sigh. "Apologies, business never stops."
Jean gave him a polite nod, though irritation prickled beneath her skin. Then why are you here?
"So," Brandon continued, straightening his cufflinks. "I assume your parents have already told you why this arrangement is beneficial."
Jean blinked. "Arrangement?"
Brandon leaned forward, a practiced smile curving his lips. "Jean, let's not waste time. We both know this isn't about romance. Your family wants stability, and mine values partnerships with people who understand their place in society. Marrying me would be mutually beneficial."
Jean felt her stomach tighten. Of course. He's not here for me. He's here for what I represent.