Chapter Eleven

As so often, Logan usually found herself in a situation she would instead bite her own hands off to escape the horror of her circumstances.

Logan had reluctantly called her mother, one very awkward and strained call had resulted in her being unable to say no to the dinner with her mother and her fiance. That was how Logan found herself at an Italian restaurant with a happy couple.

Naomi was a youthful-looking woman of sixty years old, her blonde hair hadn't yet fully turned silver, and she naturally strived to fight the inevitable passage of time with something she called her gifted genes. Naomi was elegant, her long slender fingers danced across her glass as she smiled and spoke, her thin lips pressing into a fine line as she contemplated her answers.

Naomi was always comfortable wherever she was; even now, Logan angered to think how unaffected she was by the cosmic changes that she had made happen.

Her future husband. The man Naomi had cheated on her late husband with Randall Johnson, a man ten years her junior and shorter by an inch, his horridly dull brown rodent eyes dashed around the room as though he was waiting for someone to try and steal his food.

Or maybe his wife, that was after all, how he had acquired the woman having begun an affair when Jerome Luther was alive.

The Italian restaurant was billed as one of the best in the city of London and had once been a grand ballroom until it was hit by a bomb during the war and part of it was damaged. The dining hall still showed it's Edwardian grandeur as golden pillars scattered through the room, and tall ceilings were painted with incredible pictures of mythical reek gods and nymphs.

There were tales of a girl ghost who roamed the dining hall looking for her lost lover who had planned to meet her one night to dance, but he never turned up, and in her desperation, the girl had thrown herself from the balcony above.

Logan believed that was a tall tale, and if anyone dared steal her chicken cacciatore, she would not be a very happy chick.

Luckily Logan had dragged Liam along because there was no way she was enduring this all alone.

"This tagliatelle is gorgeous," Liam said through a mouthful of food.

Logan grimaced when her friend had forgotten how to eat?

Naomi Luthor laughed, that same old laugh that Logan recalled from her childhood when she was happy. The sweet, warm melody made Logan want to vomit. "Tell me, Liam, what was the name of that girl you were seeing?"

Logan rolled her eyes.

"Amelia." Liam smiled happily. "She's Amelia."

"Ah, yes, Amelia is such a beautiful name, you know Logan. I wanted to call you that, but your father said Logan was more you." Naomi smiled, addressing her only daughter. "I had no idea what he was talking about until you grew up."

Logan rolled her eyes.

Naomi turned to talk with her fiance, Logan's eyes drew to his hand, reaching out to touch her mother's. It was so innocent, and anyone else would call it sweet, but it made Logan silently growl and pale.

"Stop glaring at everyone; you're putting everyone off their food," Liam whispered. "Your mom is nice; she always respects my pronouns and only ever calls me Liam, which is more than my mother does."

"That's nice for you, Liam, but your mom never screwed some other dude then announced she was marrying him," Logan whispered.

Liam rolled his eyes; the mood may be edgy, but at least the food was excellent, and Liam was going to get his fill while he could. He eagerly picked up his fork and twirled the pasta scooping it up and devouring it with delight.

"And how is the cacciatore Logan?" Her mother asked.

"Okay," Logan grumbled.

A motion to her right caught Logan's attention, and whipping her head around, she had to blink twice before she realized she was correct in her initial assumption.

There was Mrs. Smiley, the very recent widow dressed up to the nines in a long, slim-fitting red sequin dress that caressed her body in all the right places. Holy crap, she's hot.

Logan's mouth fell open as her eyes moved down the woman's body; how the hell had her husband ever been looking anywhere else when this was his wife? Not even Logan had been foolish enough to cheat when she had a smoking hot wife.

Then the aforementioned smoking hot wife had thrown her out, and that had ended that.

Logan blinked again, clearing her foggy brain.

"What the fuck is she doing here?" Logan muttered under her breath as she followed the familiar figure approach a table that had a man sitting at.

The man smiled and rose to his feet when he saw she was coming; Logan watched as the couple embraced and kissed. If Logan was not mistaken, there were plenty of tongues involved.

Oh my god! Mrs. Smiley was having an affair too.

"Liam, look over there," Logan whispered to her friend, pointing to the scene.

"Is that who I think it is?" Liam asked.

"Yes, only in my office. She was damned terrified of germs; she clearly hasn't read up how much bacteria is in the human mouth cause she's eating that man alive," Logan whispered enthusiastically.

"What do we do?" Liam asked his eyes, never moving from the pair as they fondled each other. "OMG, they are like spider monkeys or something."

"Don't be jealous, Liam, I'm sure they will let you join in if you ask them nicely." Logan scoffed as she discreetly pulled out her cell phone from her pocket and took some shots. Making sure that she wasn't seen.

"Well, she just pinched his butt," Liam said. "She's not very widowlike, is she?"

Logan scowled, her green eyes taking in the sight as suddenly she felt uneasy. Had she been played and used as a distraction, an alibi? Who would suspect the wronged weary love-torn widow when her husband was found dead?

"Logan, dear, what are you two doing?" Naomi asked, puzzled by their distraction. "Oh, not another of your women, Logan." Her mother sighed. "You cannot run around like this."

Logan turned an angry glance at her mother. "How dare you, she is not another of my women, thank you very much."

"Pitty, she's a looker, Logan." Randall winked at her, and Logan barely managed to keep herself from throwing herself across the table at him and strangling him with brute force.

"Do you mind not eye fucking other women? You are supposedly marrying my mother," Logan growled.

"Logan!" Naomi gasped.

Randall blew out a pent up breath, the sweat was piling in his palms; Logan Luther was a tough woman, and Randall was not ashamed to say that she unnerved him. Her green eyes hooked onto his and scorched her with their intensity. He knew she hated him, but that look she pierced him with shook him.

If Logan had the ability, she would set him alight with just those eyes, and Randall doubted she would cry very much in remorse.

"Logan, blink," Liam whispered.

"Come on, Liam!" Logan announced as she grabbed her friend by the arm and rushed to her feet, pulling him with her. "I'm afraid I have work to do, let's leave this another few years before we do this again!"

"But, Logan." Naomi protested, rising to her feet, her eyes shining with the threat of tears.

"Bye."

"But my food!" Liam complained as he pulled him away and out of the dining hall.

"I'll buy you pizza on the way to the office."

Liam groaned audibly; it was far too late to go into the office. Liam wanted to go back and finish the delicious food; instead, he was stuck, held hostage by a workaholic with a leather jacket.