I’d enlisted the help of his father. Sean thought Tommy could be making empty threats, but wanted me to be cautious and reluctantly agreed to give me Logan’s address in New York City. He also called the doorman and told him to let me up when I arrived. Miles was much more hesitant about my impromptu trip. Still, he brought me to the station and promised not to tell Logan. In exchange, I promised to call him on my way back so he could pick me up, in case I came back on the train—alone.

That was how I’d come to board the train exactly 215 minutes ago on this Sunday afternoon. The Amtrak Acela Express came to a screeching halt at Penn Station and my heart started to pound. Logan was everything I needed in my life and nothing I’d known I was looking for. Not a white knight or a prince charming but a man I loved fiercely, and who loved me with equal fierceness. He didn’t have to say the words I love you for me to know that he did—it was in his voice when he said my name, in his eyes when he looked at me, and in the way he touched me with a protectiveness that somehow I’d grown to need.

I exited the train with no luggage in hand but a mission in mind. When Logan and I were together, everything in the world was right no matter how wrong things were. And that was why I was here—to remind him of that.

To catch him if I could.

Walking fast to keep up the pace of the other passengers wasn’t a challenge because it would get me to him faster. The smell of food permeated the air, reminding me just how hungry I was, but my mission didn’t allow for stopping.

Madison Square Garden was my point of entry into the city and I quickly hailed a cab. “Eighty-third and Fifth, please,” I told the driver.

Even though it was late afternoon, the traffic was still stop and go. It seemed to take forever to get to the Upper East Side and my nerves had started to rear again. When the driver finally arrived at my destination thirty minutes later, my pulse was pounding. I paid, and once I was standing on the sidewalk, I began to second-guess my decision. I’d never been inside this part of Logan’s life. This was the elite half, the high-society side he didn’t care for very much. But it was still a part of him.

But what if he didn’t want me inside this part?

With a deep intake of breath, I decided if I had doubts like that, I should probably find out sooner rather than later.

I looked up at the building he lived in. It was magnificent. The tall limestone structure had solid lines of big bay windows stretching across its façade, beautifully landscaped sidewalks, and large lanterns on either side of the covered steel awning that led to the giant glass double doors.

I felt a little like royalty as I walked beneath it.

“Good afternoon, Madame, can I help you with something?” the doorman dressed in classic red asked.

“Yes, hi, I’m Elle Sterling, here to see Logan McPherson.”

“Oh, yes, Madame, his father called ahead. I’m to send you right up.”

I smiled at him but my stomach rolled with worry that Logan would send me away.

Pushing my doubts aside, I followed the doorman. He led me to the elevator and ushered me inside before he pressed the button. “Mr. McPherson lives in apartment 12A,” he told me and then he tipped his hat. “Have a good afternoon.”

“Thank you.”

The ride was the longest elevator ride of my life.

Finally, standing outside his door, I hesitated. Should I just give him what he asked for? Was I being unreasonable coming here? I thought I wanted to save us, but maybe what I really wanted was to save him—from his past, his demons, because I couldn’t save myself from mine. And was that really far of me?

Time passed, seconds, minutes.

With the ugly truth coming to light, that this was more about me than us, I turned to head back toward the elevator. I might have taken two steps, maybe not even one, when I heard a lock turn and the door swing open.

Divine intervention?

A cosmic twist of fate?

I didn’t know, but I’d take it.

“Elle,” he breathed, exhaustion clear in his voice.

The flip in my belly was from the sound of that voice, and that voice alone. No one had ever made by body react the way he did. No one had ever made me feel the way he did. And no one had ever loved me with the intensity that he did.

Slowly, I turned back. With just that one glance, I knew instantly I had to try to make him see things my way. I loved him way too much not to. Dressed in a designer suit, crisp white shirt, and sharp tie, I wanted to lunge for him but settled on staring as I slowly approached him.

His gaze raked down my body and took its time drinking me in on the climb back up.

As always, the air between us was thick. I drew in a deep breath and blew it out. “Logan,” I managed as sternly as I could, considering that my entire body was shaking with need from head to toe. “We need to talk.”

With a slow nod, he stepped aside to let me in.

My feet moved but I don’t remember telling them to do so. I wasn’t even sure they were mine.

Suddenly his hand pressed against the small of my back and my body hummed in delight, making me more than aware of what was mine.

I entered his spacious apartment and felt that just by doing so I had entered his other life. It was a strange yet satisfying feeling. Like he had invited me into his other world, although I knew it was really that I had barged in.

My eyes darted toward the huge expanse of windows. The place was grand in its natural form, yet it reflected who he was. The furniture was sparse, and what was there was simple and functional. There was a lot of black, a whole lot of glass, and not a bit of color, yet the windows were magnificent and the light shining through them more than spectacular. On the walls were photographs of the Brooklyn Bridge taken from many different angles, including an incredible aerial shot. If photos could be sexy, these were super-sexy.

Curiosity rose within me. I was just about to ask him about them when the ding of the elevator from the hall struck me as odd. I stopped looking around. Then, I turned and noticed he hadn’t closed the door behind me, which made me wonder if he wasn’t expecting me to stay long.

Someone cleared his throat and my eyes darted to my right. That’s when I noticed Logan wasn’t alone. Oh God, I’d been so involved in him, in his place, that I’d never looked anywhere but at the room in front of me.

My belly flipped again, and this time the feeling was unpleasant.

What if I’d interrupted something important?

A distinguished older gentleman was now standing next to me with his umbrella in his hand, looking as if he was about to leave.

I realized then that Logan had been seeing his guest out when he opened the door. It wasn’t some cosmic intervention or crazy twist of fate.

The handsome man was without a doubt Logan’s grandfather, the wealthy Logan Ryan. He looked to be almost six feet tall, not as tall as my Logan, but almost. He was long and lean, like my Logan. His hair had gone silver at the temples but remained dark everywhere else. And he was dressed in a finely tailored suit, nothing ostentatious but very professional looking.

My eyes landed on the watch he wore, which was almost identical to the one Logan wore, except his band wasn’t made of rubber but rather a fine metal.

Logan’s job here in New York was with his grandfather’s company, the Ryan Corporation. His title was Associate Counsel, Litigation and Employment. Which meant he pushed a lot of paper—something he really didn’t enjoy. About six months ago, he started to go to Boston two days a week to work with his father, whose family law practice was in trouble due to an alcohol problem that was now under control. Working at his father’s practice was much more hands-on, and Logan really enjoyed his work there.