Nadine

Nadine
Nadine
I can’t be moved by Logan’s little display of what feels like kindness. No, I won’t let myself believe he has changed, not even for a second.
But I can’t deny that I was watching him closely, waiting for some kind of reaction when Shawn mentioned Hardin.
Nothing.
He played it cool like it meant absolutely nothing to him. And that—more than anything—annoys me.
Why isn’t he jealous? The Logan I used to know would have clenched his jaw, maybe made a sarcastic remark, or at least looked bothered. But he didn’t even flinch.
‘Well, he has a girlfriend, a small voice in my head reminds me. Why would he care about Hardin?’
That thought stings more than it should.
We only share a son, and that’s all, I tell myself firmly, gripping the steering wheel tighter as I make my way toward the flower shop.
But then, another voice—one I don’t want to hear—taunts me.
‘Or do you still like him?’
The question hits me so hard that my grip falters, and before I know it, the tires screech loudly against the pavement. I gasp, heart hammering, as I quickly regain control of the car.
“Damn it,” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head. No thinking about Logan if I want to get to work in one piece.
With that, I pull into the parking lot of Petal & Bloom, taking a deep breath before turning off the engine.
Grabbing my bag, I step out, ready to push all thoughts of Logan aside and focus on my business. But just as I lock the car, my phone starts ringing.
I glance at the screen and immediately smile. Hardin.
My heart lifts slightly as I swipe to answer, but the moment I see FaceTime connecting, I groan.
“Hardin?” I shake my head, adjusting the phone. “What time is it over there in Paris?”
He grins, his blond hair slightly messy, as he leans closer to the camera. “I don’t care, Nadine. As long as I get to hear your voice.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help the warmth spreading through my chest. “Oh, please. I don’t want Ryder to have my head on a platter.”
Hardin chuckles, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement. “He better not try that," Hardin says dramatically, making me chuckle.
He laughs, and just for a moment, I let myself relax, focusing on Hardin and the easy way he makes me smile—something Logan hasn’t done in a long, long time.
Hardin is Gabriel’s son—my half-brother. When he found out about me and Nathalie, he reached out, and somehow, we instantly clicked.
Our bond has been nothing short of amazing. He makes me laugh like no one else, and for the first time in a long while, I feel a sense of ease, like I can truly be myself. I’m grateful for the change he brings into my life.
His boyfriend, Ryder, has been away for a while, and Hardin has gone to Paris to surprise him.
"So, why did you call?" I ask, settling into my chair.
"Have you thought about going to therapy?"
I roll my eyes. "Oh my God, not this again. Can we drop it?"
"Nadine, you need to heal. You still wake up screaming in broad daylight. That tells me that whatever happened to you—whatever you refuse to talk about—is still haunting you. You need to let it out."
I sigh, running a hand through my hair. "I’ll try."
"Try?" He scoffs. "Hell no, Nadine. I already booked a session for you. And you better not let the money I spent go to waste. I know you won’t because I raised you better."
I blink, feeling a lump form in my throat. In such a short time, he’s become one of the few people who truly cares about me—who sees my pain and refuses to let me drown in it.
"Thank you," I say sincerely.
He clicks away on his phone. "I just sent you the details. Don’t be late."
"I won’t."
"Good. Now, I have to go mon amour m’attends." (My love is waiting for me)
I smirk. "Alors, fais vite et au revoir." (Hurry then and bye)
Hardin laughs. "Look at you, speaking French. I love it. Talk later, sis."
The call ends, and I stare at my phone for a moment. Therapy. I don’t know if I’m ready, but for Hardin, for myself—I need to try.
By now, I’m seated in my office, the soft hum of the TV filling the quiet space. The light from the screen flashes across the room, casting a faint glow on the walls.
I don’t even remember turning it on. I rarely watch TV, so why is it on in the first place?
I reach for the remote, ready to turn it off, but just as my finger hovers over the button, something on the screen catches my attention.
My brows knit together in confusion as I stare at the man being interviewed. For a second, my mind goes blank, struggling to process what I’m seeing.
And then—his suit. The same one he wore this morning.
What the hell?
I was wondering why Logan looked so impeccably dressed today, more put together than usual. Now it makes sense—he had an interview.
My breath hitches as I listen to him speak, his deep, smooth voice filling the room.
Logan is a rare breed—he can shape himself into whatever character the situation demands.
Ruthless when necessary, gentle when he wants to be, and now, watching him on TV, he is every bit the powerful businessman the world sees him as.
He speaks with precision, confidence, and that effortless charisma that makes people listen.
He talks about his transportation empire, how it has expanded globally, and how he took over from his father, elevating the business to a level no one thought possible.
Despite everything, I feel a strange sense of pride. He built something incredible and carved his path in a world that wasn’t always kind to him.
I shake my head, realizing I have a stack of work waiting for me. It’s too early to be getting distracted by him. With a sigh, I raise the remote to turn off the TV.
But then—
A new question is asked.
I freeze.
My heart skips a beat Do I want to listen?
Or should I turn it off and pretend I don’t care?
My fingers tighten around the remote, but I can’t move. I wait. I listen. And I brace myself for whatever Logan is about to say.
Mr. West, we notice you’ve always been a private person, but rumors about your relationship have been circulating lately.
Seeing you with that lady has made your fans curious—should they expect something serious between you two?
The interviewer’s voice is smooth and professional, but I barely register it.
My heart skips a beat because I already know, without a doubt, that she’s talking about Cara.
Do I want to hear his response? Or should I just switch off the TV and pretend it doesn’t matter?
My fingers hover over the remote, but something keeps me rooted in place.
I watch as Logan’s expression remains unreadable. And then, as if he knows I’m watching, his blue eyes seem to pierce through the screen—through me.
I should look away. I should ignore whatever game he’s playing. But instead, I drown in that stare, one that holds secrets I don’t dare to uncover.
Then he speaks.
"It’s a misconception that has been going around, and I’m here to clear the air. There is nothing between that lady and me. She’s just an employee. If anything... There is only one woman I have ever loved. My heart still beats for her. And I lost her."
My breath catches.
"I hope she finds it in her heart to forgive me. She has built a new life for herself, and I am genuinely happy for her. But..." He pauses. "I want to be part of her new life."
I stumble, my body sinking into my chair at his word
Does he mean this? Or is it just another carefully crafted performance, another move in whatever twisted game he’s playing?
I don’t want to know.
With shaking hands, I do what I should have done from the start—I lift the remote and turn the TV off. The room plunges into silence, but my heart pounds so loudly it feels deafening.
Just as I take a deep breath, ready to collect myself, I feel a presence at my office door.
Someone is standing there. Watching me.
A strange unease crawls up my spine as I slowly turn my head to look.
"What?" I snap, my voice sharper than intended.