I was standing at the kitchen counter, chopping vegetables for a salad. Logan was standing behind me, pouring himself a glass of scotch.
Suddenly, the heavy glass bottle of olive oil sitting near the edge of the counter slipped. It crashed onto the hardwood floor right behind my heels, shattering into dozens of pieces with a loud, violent CRASH.
Instinct took over before my conscious mind could stop it. I flinched. My shoulders jumped violently, and I let out a sharp, involuntary gasp.
The kitchen went dead silent.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. Stupid. Stupid.
I turned around slowly. Logan was frozen, the scotch bottle suspended over his glass. His eyes were narrowed, locked onto me with a sudden, dark suspicion.
He set the bottle down with a heavy thud. He walked slowly toward me, his boots crunching on the broken glass.
“You heard that,” Logan said, his voice dropping an octave, losing all its casual arrogance. It was a statement, not a question.
He grabbed my shoulder, spinning me around forcefully. He leaned in, his face inches from mine. His eyes searched mine, looking for the lie.
Suddenly, he raised his hands and clapped them together with a violent, ear-splitting CRACK right next to my left ear.
I didn’t blink. I forced every single muscle in my body, every nerve ending, to remain perfectly, terrifyingly still. I didn’t let my eyes widen. I stared directly at his lips with a look of mild, innocent, slightly annoyed confusion.
We stared at each other for five agonizing seconds. The air in the kitchen felt heavy enough to choke on. If he realized I had been listening to everything, he would know I knew about the money. He would know about Chloe. He might panic and do something drastically worse than stealing my assets.
Finally, Logan exhaled a harsh breath. He stepped back, running a hand through his hair.
“Still broken,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head.
“What?” I mouthed, tilting my head like a confused child.
