Her mouth opened so she could apologize, but then his words hit her, and Tilly’s mouth snapped shut.
Did he just basically say all of this…was him simply pranking her back?
Her gaze flew up to him in shock, and Logan smiled lazily at her.
“Oh my God, you—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Hardwall, Ms. Wakefield.” Jim’s tone was deeply apologetic. “I am very sorry for having to interrupt—”
“What is it?” Logan asked right away, knowing that the older man would have only done so for a very good reason.
“Reception called. Ms. Berger is on her way up.”
Tilly saw Logan stiffen and tried not to feel suspicious. You have no right to react, she reminded herself, regardless of who that woman was. But in her mind, she could already see herself Googling the heck out of the name, and Tilly realized in shock that she was actually jealous.
Tilly tried not to panic. I can’t be jealous. I’m not. Because as a mail-order bride, the most she could hope for was a husband who would provide for her and Billie, one she could care for in return.
But never be possessive about.
When the billionaire finally turned to face her again, Tilly had her smile in place.
“It’s my lawyer.”
But out loud, all she said was, “I understand.” She even managed to sound like it, too. “Liam and I could go home ahead of you, or we could wait for you, too.” Tilly inclined her head in question. “It’s all up to you, Mr. Hardwall.”
A hardened expression formed over Claudette Berger’s beautiful face as she watched a younger woman walk inside the daycare center with a chubby toddler in her arms. The kid seemed intent on talking her ears off, and the woman’s laugh actually sounded genuine as she listened to whatever gibberish the little boy had to say.
What a gold-digging little whore, Claudette thought furiously as she spun on her heels and headed back to the elevator. Having seen the numerous photos taken by Logan’s employees, all of which showed the hussy shamelessly using the billionaire’s nephew to play up to him, Claudette had taken her chances by making a detour at the 10th floor.
It was where all employee amenities were located, and after a few minutes of waiting, her intuition had once again proven correct when she saw the bitch coming out of the elevator with the billionaire’s nephew in tow.
The woman had been nothing like Logan’s usual taste at all. Short, unsophisticated, and such crudely large breasts. The woman didn’t even have the right hair color, for fuck’s sake. So why did all the photos currently blowing up a viral storm in San Antonio show the billionaire looking at the bitch like she had just become his favorite dish?
She had been the billionaire’s lover once, and not only that, but their relationship had also lasted the longest compared to all his other mistresses.
And yet he had never looked at her that way.
Although the thought was more than enough to make Claudette want to claw the other woman’s eyes out, her cold-blooded streak of ruthless practicality eventually won over her livid emotions, and by the time Claudette entered the billionaire’s office, she had all of her ducks in a row, her practiced smile in place.
But then the musky scent inside his office reached her nostrils, and realizing what it meant—
Logan raised a brow when his normally graceful lawyer almost tripped over her own feet.
“Sorry about that.” Claudette quickly righted herself even as she found herself hurling the vilest curses at the billionaire’s nanny inside her head.
Whatever happened to his fucking rule about women not being allowed in his workplace?
Even Claudette hadn’t been spared from that, and she had only been allowed access when her role in his life switched from mistress to legal counsel.
So what made the nanny the fucking exemption?
“Are you alright?” Logan asked.
“Yes, of course. It’s just a little sprain,” she lied. “I injured myself while playing tennis last week.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” The billionaire gestured for Claudette to take a seat before settling down behind his desk. “I assume you have a very good reason for the unscheduled visit?”
“Naturally. Or did you think I only came here because I missed you?” she asked archly.
“Touché.” A slight smile curved over Logan’s lips. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit then?”
“The Crown Prince of Najma,” she said sweetly.
The billionaire’s gaze narrowed. “You’re sure of this?”
“The information didn’t come cheap, but yes, everything checks out, and he’s indeed the mystery investor we’ve been after.” She gave a little pause. “He’s a personal friend of yours?”
“We’ve known each other for some time,” Logan acknowledged.
“Then nothing should seem amiss if you were to bump into him in the Oil Barons’ Ball tomorrow night and strike up a conversation…” Claudette’s gaze was deliberately thoughtful. “Tickets have been sold out months ago, but we both know the committee will happily bend backwards to add your name to the list.”