11. Casey

Chapter 11

Casey

As I drove back to Westbrook Meadows from the grocery store, my thoughts were like a whirlwind. Scattered tension lingered in my brain as I thought about the custody situation with the Mercers.

Martin was busy setting the dinner table, so Betsy had asked me to grab a few items for a dinner—with the Mercers.

I was already anxious about how uncomfortable it was going to be.

When I caught sight of the first highway billboard, my foot eased off the gas instinctively.

It was practically impossible to miss—a massive sign, giant black letters against a crisp white background, gleaming in the sun.

Some grandparents bake cookies. Others cook the books. Family bonds are priceless. Tax fraud isn’t.

I blinked several times, certain that my eyes had deceived me.

But as I drove past the second billboard just a little further down the highway, my jaw dropped.

Real grandparents don’t hide behind fake charities. Where did the millions go?

Driving faster, I noticed the final billboard. I didn’t even try to mute the laugh that escaped my mouth.

Offshore accounts, onshore drama.

Transparency is a family value, Robert.

Oh my god. Betsy had called him out by name.

The implications were clear. And at this point, they weren’t just implications anymore.

This couldn’t be real. Betsy would never do something like this.

Would she?

I shook my head, going back and forth between awe and disbelief. Betsy had completely outdone herself. Hopefully for her it was subtle enough to avoid legal implications, but I assumed at this point Betsy was no longer concerned about that.

Driving back to the estate, I knew that the Mercers were probably fuming, and that I was likely walking right into the storm.

When I arrived, the air was already thick with palpable tension as I made my way toward the dining room, bracing for what I knew was waiting there.

My footsteps echoed slightly off the polished floors, and each step I took made my heart race faster. Normally I was impressed by the scale and beauty of the house on the estate, but when things were tense, the atmosphere almost took on an eerie, haunted vibe.

The high ceilings, unusual art pieces, and large, ornate rugs that covered the floors all lent themselves to the feeling of being summoned by a royal.

Walking down the hallway, hearing my own footsteps, waiting to see what awaited me around the next corner. On one hand, I had no idea what to expect. But on the other hand, that was to be expected.

Betsy liked to keep everyone guessing, but there wasn’t much room for interpretation based on the signs.

Finally, I heard the sounds of clinking dishes coming from the dining room. I braced myself for what I was about to experience. I had hoped that by the time I arrived, they’d be completely finished with their conversation. Conflict over, just like that. I could go back to being the nanny and things could go back to normal.

But as I turned the corner into the dining room, I knew that wasn’t likely.

And there they were.

Betsy sat in her chair like royalty, a small, satisfied smile playing at her lips. Logan stood next to her, his arms crossed, radiating calm control with a protective edge.

Across from them were Helen and Robert, seated at the table.

Helen’s nails were digging into the armrest, her lips pressed so tightly they were nearly white.

Robert’s jaw was clenched, and he glared at Betsy but said nothing.

I lingered in the doorway, hesitating because I felt like an intruder walking onto a battlefield.

“Oh, Casey,” Betsy said, gesturing toward the chair beside her, “come and sit. We’re all just sitting here discussing… morals.”

Robert’s face was furious, and his hands were balled into clenched fists. “This is outrageous, Betsy. You think you can plaster slander all over the highway and just get away with it?”

Betsy leaned back in her chair. “Slander, Robert, is when it’s untrue—everything up there is a simple reminder of how much we value honesty in the Westbrook family.”

“Honesty?” Robert asked with a scoff. “If you want to talk honestly, let’s talk about how you ripped off the Ashford family a few decades ago and stole millions from them. How’s that for morality?”

Betsy shook her head, defiant. “We won our fair share of Harborstone Gallery in a court victory. A judge approved it.”

“A judge you practically own!” Robert fired back.

Betsy glared at him. “The entire case was made public for anyone to research. The Westbrooks won fair and square. We’ve never stolen a thing in our lives.”

“Tell that to the Ashford family!” Helen finally chimed in.

“I have,” Betsy said, her voice steady.

I watched Betsy with awe. Her words were pointed and cutting but she never lost her cool.

Helen bristled but clearly was trying to keep her composure. “Look Betsy, we came here to discuss what’s best for Henry, not to be utterly humiliated.”

She turned to Logan. “Logan, surely you can see that your mother’s behavior is inappropriate.”

Logan glanced at his smiling mother before returning his focus to the Mercers. “What’s best for Henry is a life of stability. And if you had such good intentions, maybe you wouldn’t be so disturbed by a little honesty.”

“Honesty?” Helen asked, her mouth agape. “This isn’t honest—it’s slander! None of these claims are true.”

Betsy leaned forward and stared with a calm intensity that silenced the room. She folded her hands neatly on the table, a faint smile pulling at her lips, but it was anything but warm.

Her tone was measured but still polite—which made it all the more terrifying. “Well, Helen, Robert… you’ve expressed your concerns about Henry’s home life. Now I’m going to express my concerns.”

Robert looked visibly uncomfortable, shifting in his seat. Helen’s face was tight but starting to crack, her carefully applied makeup failing to hide her discomfort.

“The thing is,” Betsy started, “I happen to believe that honesty and transparency are the foundations of a strong home. And I believe that actions speak louder than words. For example…”

Betsy paused theatrically before reaching out and grabbing a folder she’d neatly placed on the table earlier. The kind of folder that could only spell doom.

“Robert’s little adventure a few nights ago,” Betsy said, nodding at Robert.

Helen snapped her head toward her husband. “Adventure?”

Betsy was unrelenting. “Yes, his adventure. Starting with driving under the influence after leaving a bar. But that’s not all, is it, Robert?”

She flipped the folder open and pulled out a shiny, glossy photo before sliding it over to Robert with impeccable ease.

“Here’s Robert,” she continued, “visibly intoxicated, parking your car at a less-than-reputable street corner to purchase something in a little baggie. And here you are…,” she said, sliding out another photo, “snorting it right off your dashboard. Charming.”

Robert’s face suddenly went pale. “This is outrageous! You can’t⁠—”

“I already have,” Betsy replied, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied expression. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but these aren’t simply allegations. These are stone cold facts, Robert. And I haven’t even gotten around to the financial irregularities.”

Panic flickered in Helen’s eyes as her façade began to crack. “What are you talking about?”

Betsy opened the folder again and pulled out yet another glossy photo, this time sliding it across the table to Helen. Even from where I was sitting on the sidelines, I could see that the numbers in the rows didn’t add up.

“Dear Helen,” Betsy said, “you’ve been thoroughly creative with your bookkeeping. Offshore accounts, income that’s gone undeclared, and my personal favorite: a fake charity. ‘Helen’s Helping Hands.’ Absolutely adorable name, by the way.”

Helen looked completely stunned. “Betsy, you cannot⁠—”

Betsy raised one hand, cutting off Helen with regal authority. “And before you claim to be completely ignorant, Helen, let me remind you that tax fraud isn’t exactly a slap-on-the-wrist kind of offense—that should come as no surprise. Judges frown on this sort of thing—especially in custody cases.”

Silence filled the room, almost deafening. Logan stood beside his mother, his arms still crossed and his expression ice cold. I could feel his fury radiating, but he didn’t speak.

This was Betsy’s show.

Betsy’s voice was almost a low purr. “I’m more than willing to give the courts complete and total transparency. You said yourself that Henry deserves to live in a stable home, not one built on lies and fabrications. I suggest you think very, very carefully about your next move.”

Helen gripped the edge of her chair, her hands shaking. “This… this is blackmail, Betsy.”

Betsy’s satisfied smile didn’t fall. “Oh Helen, blackmail is such a harsh word. I prefer to think of it as shining a light.”

Robert looked as if he might erupt, but Helen grabbed his arm and dug her nails into his sleeve.

She glared at Betsy, eyeing her as if she hated her. “You’re awful.”

Besty stared back, unmoving. “I’d think very carefully about testing me again. I’d hate to be forced to release what I have to the proper channels. Think about Robert’s career at the law firm. The fallout would be absolutely… catastrophic.”

Defiance finally drained from Robert’s face as he slumped back in his chair, looking at the folder in front of him like it was a ticking bomb. His mouth opened, but nothing came out—his earlier bravado had completely vanished.

Helen forced a smile and said, “Well, I suppose we’ll… reconsider our approach. But just for Henry’s sake, of course.”

“Of course,” Betsy said with sweet southern charm, as if they’d just agreed to a perfectly civil matter. “After all, Henry’s well-being is what we’re all focused on, right?”

Betsy’s gaze was as sharp as a blade, daring the Mercers to challenge her.

Helen grabbed her husband with trembling hands.

“We’ll take our leave now,” she said, her voice brittle.

“Wonderful,” Betsy chirped. “And feel free to let me know if you need any further clarification on where you stand. I’d be happy to oblige, any time.”

Helen’s face turned completely red as she pulled her husband toward the door, turning to walk away. They wandered out of the room, their backs toward us, stiff. Finally, the sound of the door closing behind them echoed off the walls.

I glanced at Betsy who sat back in her chair casually, as if she hadn’t just dismantled the Mercers’ plans with a few carefully chosen, devastating sentences.

Logan leaned against the mantle, exhaling slowly. I could sense the frustration leaving the room.

“I think that’s the last we’ll hear from them,” he said. “They’d be stupid to push their luck.”

Betsy smoothed the hem of her jacket. “Oh, stupidity is a common affliction. I wouldn’t count them out just yet—personally. They’re like a bad odor lingering in an otherwise pristine room.”

Betsy certainly had a way with words.

Logan looked at his mother. “Think they’ll leave us alone now?”

Betsy smiled and nodded. “Now they understand just how far I’ll go to protect the Westbrook family. If they’re smart, think they’ll twice before testing me again. I don’t bluff, darling. And I never lose.”

The weight of Betsy’s words hung in the air of the grand dining room. Betsy rose to her feet and walked out of the room with the grace of a queen exiting her court.

A few hours later, I found myself wandering the cavernous hallways of the house, heading toward Logan’s bedroom. I’d found his tablet in the drawing room, and I wanted to bring it to him. Although, if I was being honest with myself, that wasn’t my only motive.

Thoughts of Logan had riddled my mind all day. I simply could not stop thinking about the man.

After Betsy told the Mercers off, Logan and Betsy had relaxed for a few hours. The mood had completely shifted, and it was nice to see Logan finally decompress and smile. When Betsy took Henry out for dessert at his favorite restaurant, I knew it was the perfect time for me to talk to Logan, alone.

Standing outside Logan’s bedroom, I gazed in. It was a place I never dreamed I’d be.

Just like him, his bedroom was calm and refined with an undercurrent of intensity.

The walls were a deep gray, the kind of color that made everything in the room feel sharper. Dominating the room was a massive bed with a dark wooden frame and crisp linens.

And there was Logan, standing by the window with his profile illuminated by the glow of the evening light. He turned and looked at me, neither of us saying anything for a moment.

The silence practically crackled, alive with the electricity that had built up between us.

I hesitated by the door, feeling as if I was crossing an invisible line. “I just… I just wanted to bring up your tablet, you left it downstairs.” I held up the tablet like a shield. “I’ll just leave it here and⁠—”

“Casey,” he said, his voice low, stopping me in my tracks. “You don’t have to leave.”

I swallowed hard, my pulse quickening. “I didn’t mean to intrude…”

“You’re not intruding,” Logan said, stepping forward with deliberate steps as if he didn’t want to spook me. “Stay.”

I stepped into the room and gently placed the tablet on the edge of a nearby table, my fingers brushing against the wood and lingering longer than I’d meant for them to, as if I needed something to steady me.

Logan took another step forward, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of his distinctive cologne.

I glanced up to meet his gaze, my heart racing. His expression was almost unreadable, but there was a hint of something in his eyes that I couldn’t ignore.

“Casey,” he said, closing the distance between us in an instant.

His hands cupped my face as his lips met mine. The kiss was eager, almost desperate, as if we’d held back too long and couldn’t wait a second longer. My hands quickly found their way to his chest and gripped the fabric of his shirt.

Breathe, I thought, trying to relax.

I tried to steady myself against the table, forcing my legs not to wobble against the wave of emotions crashing over me.

Logan quickly pulled my shirt over my head and brough his mouth to my chest, trailing kisses along my skin and sending a shiver down my spine. His lips found their way to my nipples, gently biting them.

My heart was pounding, and I knew Logan could feel it. His giant, rough hands gripped me snugly.

The sheer power of his touch and the electricity contained within shocked me.

I felt a mix of helplessness and hunger that nearly sent me spiraling, teetering on the edge of control.

I thought I knew what physical strength was. I exercised regularly, tried to lift weights—but next to Logan, I almost felt fragile.

His hands roamed my body as if he were claiming every inch of me. I rolled my hips forward to press against him as he cupped my ass and let out a tight-lipped hiss of pleasure.

Suddenly, I felt Logan’s cock stiffening through his pants as he slid his shirt over his head.

My own cock began to twitch and move around, obviously with a mind of its own.

Every subtle move of Logan’s body pushed me further over the edge, and I felt my cock straining against the pressure from my pants.

Logan slid his hand between us, repositioning our cocks so that they ran parallel to each other.

I closed my eyes and moaned, giving in to the tantalizing pleasure of his cock sliding against mine between thin layers of fabric.

It simultaneously felt wrong and so very right.

Logan pushed himself into me, further pinning me to the hard, rough wall. But the slight pain only heightened the thrill.

“I want you to feel good,” he said, whispering in my ear. “I want to give you the same pleasure you’ve given me.”

I bit my lip, feeling my anticipation swell.

Without hesitation, I gently pushed him back before slowly lowering myself to kneel before him. I gazed up at his stunning face with something almost like reverence. Looking up at him, I felt more than desire—it was something more like awe.

He wasn’t just a handsome man, he was an elegant masterpiece, a creation so impossibly perfect he almost seemed unreal. Every line and curve of his body was like a testament to a divine artist’s work for me to enjoy. Logan was simultaneously larger than life, yet still somehow tangible.

He was real.

He slowly unzipped his jeans. I waited patiently for as long as I could, but I couldn’t resist the urge to reach out and tug them down. They slipped down just low enough to allow his thick cock to spring free and bounce in the open air. I licked my lips, excited by how massive it was.

I wanted so badly to taste the little drop of precome glimmering in the light.

“You want it?” he asked with a grin, gazing down at me.

I leaned forward and pulled the swollen head of his cock between my lips, rolling my tongue over the tip. The salty precome touched my tongue, making me groan as I eagerly swallowed it.

“I want to feel your throat,” Logan commanded. “Deeper.”

My own cock twitched as I moaned and took more of his length in my mouth. I moved further and further down his shaft, slowly swallowing more of him until I was nearly gagging. Logan rocked his hips forward, thrusting himself into my mouth, fucking my face as I gently moaned.

He held both of his hands on the side of my head, guiding me with commanding strength as he reared back and pushed forward again.

I felt him shudder, and I knew he was in heaven.

I wanted to give him everything he wanted—everything he could possibly ask for.

His pace quickened, and I thought he was going to finish in my mouth, but he stopped.

Logan pulled back, his voice low, and said, “Stand up. And turn around.”

I climbed to my feet, and we found ourselves beside the bed. I felt my knees ache, hinting that they might give out at any point.

I was overwhelmed and engulfed all at once as I faced the wall, Logan behind me.

Desperate anticipation rolled over me as I bit my lip and wondered what was about to come.

Logan leaned in and breathed in my ear as he unbuttoned my jeans and pulled them to the floor, exposing me.

He pulled my pants and boxers down, leaving me stripped.

I let out a quiet groan of approval as I felt the cold air brush over my uncovered skin.

Suddenly, I felt Logan’s length sliding against my cheeks.

“Do you want it?” he asked with the kind of confidence that told me he already knew the answer.

I eagerly, desperately wanted it.

“I want it,” I said, practically begging. “I want you inside me. Please…”

He snarled, his voice almost a growl. “Who do you belong to?”

“You,” I answered quickly. “I’m yours and yours alone, Logan.”

He growled again. “Damn right.”

Hearing the tear of plastic behind me, I turned to see Logan rolling a condom over his length. He grabbed a bottle of lube from the nightstand drawer and squeezed some onto his fingertips.

He pressed his fingers against my hole, causing a loud moan to erupt from my lips.

“Feel good?” he asked.

“Yes,” I whimpered. “Oh god, yes.”

“Want more?”

I rutted back against his fingers as they pressed into me. “Please, Logan,” I choked out, trembling. “Please…”

I relaxed and moaned as he fingered my hole, working the band of muscle as I squirmed. My fingertips were digging into the sheets as I begged him for more.

“Please fuck me,” I gasped. “I need it, Logan.”

Logan moaned. “Want my cock in your ass?”

“Make it yours,” I begged. “Claim it.”

I felt his tip first, then slowly, the rest of his length as he entered me.

Both of his hands groped my ass cheeks as I writhed on the bed, pushing my cock into the sheets. Logan kissed and nipped at my shoulders as his cock pushed even deeper.

I closed my eyes and lost myself in the almost unbearable waves of bliss washing over me. He knew exactly how to touch me—exactly what I needed. He hit that perfect spot that made my vision swim.

Logan wrapped his arm around my waist and started to stroke my cock with his free hand. I nearly collapsed onto the bed, frantically trying to breathe.

“It feels…,” I said, my voice shaking. “It feels so good.”

“Good,” he said, his voice rumbling behind me. “I want you to come for me, Casey. Can you do that?”

“Whatever you want,” I choked out, rocked by pleasure. “I’m all yours.”

He stroked my cock harder, then faster, in perfect rhythm with his shaft slamming deep inside me as I clenched around him. I yelped, then groaned before burying my face in the sheets to try and quiet myself.

Logan’s hand slid up and down my cock, delicately at first then rough and quick as I neared the edge.

His thumb toyed with the sensitive tip of my member, practically willing me to come.

I cried out, my entire body convulsing with pleasure as my come spurted out, thick and heavy all over the sheet.

“Good,” he said, his voice raspy in my ear. “You want it?” he asked, sounding frantic. “Want my come in your ass?”

My hands, legs, and feet shook, and I felt as if I might faint. “Yes,” I said breathlessly. “Please, I want it.”

An animalistic snarl escaped his lips as he slammed into me, holding me in place as he emptied into the condom. I felt every single pulse as he throbbed inside me. To my delight, his breath became ragged and quick as his body gave in to pleasure.

After a few more desperate thrusts, he pulled out and softly kissed the back of my head before collapsing on top of me. Sweat glistened from his body and dampened my skin as it rolled onto me.

Still shaking and trying to compose myself, I pulled my boxers up and we both crashed onto his massive bed. Logan smiled, pulling me into his arms and stroking my hair as I tried to catch my breath. It amazed me that he could suddenly be so gentle after ravaging me.

Instinctively, I leaned into him, pressing my head into his chest. Logan held me closely, the sound of his heartbeat calming me, helping me come back to earth, grounding me.

We came down together, softly landing in a place we hadn’t been before. A place that felt uncharted, yet somehow perfectly ours.