"Quit trying to pretend you're here out of the kindness of your heart," I growl, holding his gaze. His eyes flash at me like pieces of steel, hard and cold, but if he thinks he can intimidate me, he's lost his fucking mind.
Not a fucking chance.
Logan laughs. "You think you have a VIP access to this office or something, where only you're permitted?"
He's mocking me, but I answer him in a serious tone. "No, I think I'm here on business, which of course you know nothing about," I say, unconsciously balling one hand into a fist and shoving it into my pocket.
If it wasn't contained in my pocket, I don't know what would happen. I might do something I'd regret.
With my fist in my pocket, my rage is contained. It's safer that way.
"You can go ahead and play the high and mighty card all you want," Logan smiles, "but it's getting old. You need to find something new to grab onto."
I look over at Lana. She's standing there, more beautiful than ever, and I say, "Lana has already promised to work with me. We made a deal."
A new emotion registers on her face.
It washes over her like a wave over sand, smoothing out the landscape below it, so you hardly recognize what it once was.
Is it anger on her face? Is it confusion? Is it surprise? I can't tell, but I know it somehow isn't good.
"Excuse me?" she blurts out. "This is my manuscript we're talking about. Let's not forget that. And this is my body. I'll repeat that. My body. And don't look at me like that. You two have both been eye fucking me from the moment you entered the office."
We both turn to her, with blank looks on our faces because we aren't used to hearing her talk like this, and then she turns to me.
"I haven't promised you a goddamn thing, Anders. So, you can go crawl back into whatever fantasy world you were living in."
"But—Lana," I say, and she cuts me off, refusing to let me finish that thought.
"I'm serious, Anders. This is non-negotiable."
"But you can't go with Logan," I say, "You just can't." And I watch as Logan stands up from his chair, and cocks one eyebrow, shaking his head at the accusation.
"I can't?" she says, turning to me again, and emphasizing the word 'can't.' "And why is that, hmm?"
"You just can't," I say.
"I'm gonna need more than that," she says, placing both hands on her hi
ps and letting out a truncated laugh. "You just standing here telling me I can't do something isn't enough to convince me. In fact, it just pisses me off. The word 'can't' isn't even a part of my vocabulary."
I shift on my feet, and think before responding.
I'm in murky waters now, and I need to fucking tread carefully.
I didn't want to do this.
I didn't want to go down this path, and throw Logan under the bus, but he's leaving me no choice.
Now I have to. My back is up against the fucking wall like a fucking caged animal.
"Because," I say, pausing before continuing. "He's really a bad guy."
As soon as those words leave my lips, I wish I would've said it differently. Maybe have given an example. Because now it sounds pathetic. But I didn't say those things when I should've. And now it's too late.
Lana and Logan stare at me.
Then Lana looks to Logan, and I see a smirk form across his face.