Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

MIRA

D espite my warning about leaving earlier, Logan was late. I huffed out a breath as I stared at my brother, my arms crossed over my chest and my feet kicked up on his desk.

"Your friend is going to get killed out here."

Slate rolled his eyes at me, chuckling as he lifted himself half out of his seat to swat at my feet. "You're as bad as the guys right now. Just give him a chance, okay?"

"This isn't about a chance. It's about the fact that he's literally going to die, if not by doing something stupid, then by pissing off the wrong man. What is he doing here, Slate?"

"Checking out his investment. I told you." When I lowered my chin and peered at him between my lashes, he let out a sigh. "Fine. He's also got some ideas about making the rig more environmentally friendly."

"It's an oil rig," I said, completely deadpan. "Oil and environmentally friendly don't make sense in the same sentence. At least not yet. As much as I wish I was wrong, I'm not. So why come here now? He can't have any more of a clue than I do how to achieve that."

He folded his hands on his desk, abandoning his idle reassurances as he nodded. "Look, I know, but he's been doing some research and I've looked it over. There are things we could be doing to minimize the impact of the drilling on the environment."

I arched an eyebrow at him, wholly unconvinced. "I'll check it out, but I would've come across it before if it was viable. Plus, getting these men to change their ways here isn't going to be a walk in the park."

"Logan and I both know that." He drew a breath from the pit of his stomach, worry darkening his eyes for the first time since his friend had arrived. "I know he's out of his depth, okay? But that's why he's here. He's trying to learn, he hired us because he knew that he needed help, and I'm here to make sure nothing bad happens to him."

"Be careful," I warned him softly, finally dropping my feet away from his desk and sitting up from the position I'd been reclining in. "Don't do anything stupid trying to protect him, Slate. I don't need to tell you how fucking dangerous this place can be for someone who has no idea what they're doing. Frankly, this rig is too big for Logan Jones. He should go back to the city where he belongs, and we can discuss his idea in a meeting online."

"That's what we've been doing, but it was time for him to come out here, meet everyone, and see the operations for himself. Why are you so against him?"

Frustration buzzed through my veins. "I'm not against him. I'm worried about you . Why didn't you tell me that he was coming? Or who he is?"

"Would it have mattered?" Slate asked, head canting slightly to one side. "You wouldn't have known who he was anyway, and I didn't tell you he was coming because he only confirmed last night."

"Oh, goodie. So he didn't even have the decency to?—"

My brother shook his head hard and fast. "It has nothing to do with decency, Mira. Logan is a busy guy. He's got interests in a ton of businesses and he runs his own company, so it's not like he can just up and leave on a whim to come spend a few days out here."

" We run our own company," I countered. "Yet we're capable of scheduling properly."

"Spiers Consulting is not a multinational conglomerate. LJ Incorporated, on the other hand, is. Besides, it wasn't a scheduling issue. He had a last-minute cancellation of a meeting in Japan and his schedule opened up unexpectedly as a result."

LJ Incorporated. Shit.

I'd known a Mr. Jones owned the rig, and I'd known that said Mr. Jones was the CEO of LJ Incorporated, but it was only at this very moment that I really realized who I'd slept with all those months ago.

Logan wasn't just the hot playboy of a best man I'd been warned against at the wedding. The man was a force of nature in the business world these days. With a master's degree in engineering, he'd burst onto the scene out of nowhere a few years ago—allegedly after some investments he'd made had paid off big time after winning the lottery—and he'd built himself a bit of an empire in the time since.

There were very few viable industries he wasn't involved with in some way, and from what I'd read, whatever he touched turned to gold. The tabloids had even dubbed him the Midas of Wall Street as a result.

My stomach burned with the knowledge that somehow, I'd managed to fall in bed with not only one of my brother's best friends, but also with a living legend in the making. And all the while, I'd been thinking that it hadn't been a big deal.

That it had been nothing and with no one but a good-looking stranger.

I'd never been more wrong.

Anything and everything Logan did was news, and that was not a good thing for me. No one can ever find out.

I ground my teeth together, resolve pumping hot and heavy through my veins just as the door finally opened. Logan walked in, somehow looking both sheepish and cocky—and annoyingly hot.

For all his many faults, his good looks weren't something even I could deny, and with that sandy hair all windswept and messy, and more practical sneakers on his feet, he really was damn attractive.

"You weren't talking about me, were you?" he asked as he walked in, almost like he was hoping we had been.

I crossed my arms again, turning in my seat to watch him lowering himself into the chair beside mine. "We were discussing a tiny fish who somehow ended up in a very big pond, so yes. You could say that we're talking about you."

"Oh hush," Slate said, and I rolled my eyes at him but kept my mouth shut, settling back as my brother turned to his friend. "Everything okay with your cabin? Our options are pretty limited, but if you need anything, I'm sure we'll be able to rustle it up."

"Nah, I'm fine. Thanks. It's not exactly the Four Seasons, but I'll survive." He spread his legs as he sat down, getting comfortable as he got down to business. "Catch me up. What's going on?"

"A lot," Slate said. "I thought we could start by deciding how you're going to allocate your time for the next three days."

"You're here for three days?" I heard myself ask before I'd even fully formed the thought to do it. "Why?"

Logan glanced at me, those warm blues alive with amusement and excitement as he winked. "Why not? I had the time for a change and I decided to spend it here."

Fuck .

As I looked at him, I realized that it'd been so damn stupid of me not to have recognized him the night of the wedding. I'd thought he looked familiar, but I figured I must've seen him in a picture with Jude and Mickey at some point.

It was all making so much more sense now, though. The cocky attitude. Mickey and Tess's warnings about him and how women flung themselves at his feet. The newly built house in the Hamptons. The driver on speed-dial…

Sigh. I should've kept my damn legs shut.

Slate, however, oblivious to the fact that I was remembering what his best friend could do with his cock, rolled his eyes at me. "Mira."

"Slate," I retorted, banishing all thoughts of Logan's penis from my mind. This was not the time or the place, and most importantly, our hookup wasn't something I intended to dwell on.

Beside me, Logan shifted in his chair so that he was looking at both of us. "I'm not here to disrupt operations or to distract the workers. You guys lay down the law on this thing. I get that. I understand and I agree. "

Before I could say anything, he looked right at me. "I'm spending three days here to learn as much as I can before I head back to the city, but I know that I'm inexperienced and I realize that can be dangerous, which is why I'm willing to play by your rules."

Slate gave him a relieved smile. "I knew you weren't going to cause shit for us. We should start with where you should go and not go. I don't want to sound like a kindergarten teacher, but there are definitely areas which are more dangerous than others. You want to steer clear of those."

Logan nodded, his posture and his expression open and smooth. "Definitely. I went to my cabin earlier when she told me to, didn't I? Trust me, I'm more than happy to follow your lead. Tell me the areas to avoid, and I'll avoid them."

"Well, there are two platforms on the rig," Slate replied thoughtfully. "The production platform and the accommodation platform. You should spend your time here, on the accommodation platform. It's much safer and you really have no business being on the production platform anyway."

"Is there a bar?" Logan joked as he leaned back and made himself comfortable.

I frowned, realizing that he was probably only joking, but also not entirely sure. I got stern with him, needing him to understand that none of this was a joke. "Alcohol isn't permitted on the rig."

"You're a buzzkill," he complained playfully and aggravation rattled through my bones as I stared into those golden blues, taking in how completely relaxed he was.

Reclining back in his chair with his legs spread and humor in his eyes, it almost looked like he was lounging around a cruise director's office, getting his itinerary to have some fun onboard.

Knots formed in my stomach at the thought that he was going to be here for three long days, which definitely wasn't enough for him to learn as much as he said he wanted to and yet, it was more than enough to get into some potentially life-threatening trouble.

When Logan caught me staring and smirked at me, I turned to Slate, shooting him a serious look as I got up. "This is dangerous, and I don't like it. We really should've just had a conference call."

With that, I turned my back on them both and marched out, careful to shut the door behind me. That guy is such an asshole.

I was starting to wonder if he was capable of taking anything seriously, but so far, it sure didn't look that way. Which told me exactly what sort of person he was.

Logan Jones had gotten lucky at every turn in his life and he'd never had any serious consequences come down on him. And that didn't work for me.

Not out here.

Obviously, he'd bought the rig from Jude on a whim and now here he was, disrupting everything and everyone with his mere, unnecessary presence. That was dangerous in and of itself. These workers couldn't afford to be worrying about his motives or to be too scared of having him look over their shoulders while they were working.

These men were my friends. Their job was dangerous enough without some city boy making them second-guess every move they made. Then there was Slate. He was here too, and I didn't want anyone getting hurt, but Logan felt like a disaster waiting to happen.

If I could, I would have marched them back to his chopper, loaded him in, and told him to video call us from the comfort of a luxury hotel once he got back to land. That seemed to be much more his speed anyway.

But I couldn't.

Because ultimately, he owned the rig and I couldn't make those kinds of calls. Even if I did have an ominous feeling in the pit of my stomach that Logan being here spelled bad things for us all.