Auctioned By The Ceo

Chapter 13

Logan jerked awake with a frown. The soft weight of Hannah’s delicious curves warmed his side, and

the even puffs of her breaths across his jaw told him she wasn’t the reason for his sudden alertness.

His little dove was fast asleep, worn out no doubt, after their earlier sexcapades.

His cock jerked to life with a speed that left him rather lightheaded as all his blood pooled in his groin.

So much for fucking her out his system. Having tasted her submission, made ten times sweeter by her

usual fiery nature, he wanted to do it all over again. When was the last time he hadn’t woken up itching

to get rid of the woman in his bed? Come to think of it, when was the last time he’d actually allowed

himself to fall asleep with any of the women he’d bedded?

Logan’s frown deepened, and then he heard it. A child’s sniffling, muffled cries, followed by a tentative

knock on the doors to his suite.

What the fuck?

“Want Papa … I scared … Mummy…”

Little Rhia’s heartfelt cries—a sure sign she’d had another one of her nightmares—made his chest

tighten, and galvanized him into action. She oughtn’t be here at … fuck, four in the morning. What in

the hell was Rosamunde thinking, bringing her here at this hour, when he was with…

Logan swallowed another curse, mindful of the still sleeping woman in his bed. He carefully extricated

himself from her delectable grasp, hastily shoved his legs into the old joggers he used for his time at

the gym, and stalked out of the room. Another, much louder knock made the wood buckle, and this time

he did swear out loud.

He yanked the door open and came face to face with a disheveled, grumpy looking guy, who most

definitely shouldn’t be anywhere near Rhia. This asshole reeked of cigarettes and the unmistakable

odor of sex.

“Who the fuck are you?” Logan’s growled curse had no effect on the other guy, other than to make him

smirk. Not that he was paying him much attention because Rhia leaped across the threshold and

wrapped herself around his leg in a bear hug. Her little body shook in fear, and his joggers were

instantly soaked through with her tears.

“I’m sorry, sir, she wouldn’t stop crying, and I did try and ring you, but you didn’t answer, so I had to

bring her here. This is Jack. He drove me. Jack, that’s Logan Br—”

“Never mind the fucking introductions. What the hell are you thinking dragging her across town at this

time of night?”

Rhia clung tighter, and Logan pulled a deep breath into his tight chest, when her sobs got louder. It

wouldn’t do to lose his temper in front of the little girl. She’d seen more violence in her short life than

any child should ever be subjected to, but damn it all to hell and back. He wanted to hurt someone,

something, to make them pay for this mess. None of this was Rhia’s fault, however, and he forced his

clenched fists to uncurl and patted her dark curls.

“There, it’s okay, munchkin. Everything will be fine.”

Tearstained, big blue eyes, ringed by long dark eyelashes, so reminiscent of her mother stared up at

him, made his guilty heart clench in pain. Grief, remorse, and utter terror as raw and immediate as it

had been the night this girl’s world had been turned upside down by the power of a man’s fists.

He somehow managed to twist his lips into the semblance of a smile, and she stopped sniffling and

popped her thumb in her mouth. She didn’t relinquish her koala bear impression on his leg, however.

Behind him a door opened, and Hannah’s soft gasp piled yet more guilt on his head.

“Well, hello there. Seems we interrupted something here, Rosa, babe.”

Hearing this stranger address his little dove like that, and the insolent sneer as he appeared to look

Hannah up and down made Logan’s good intentions fly out of the proverbial window.

“Hannah, go back inside. This doesn’t concern you.” He flicked a glance over his shoulder and

groaned. If this got out the papers would have a field day, because as adorable as Hannah looked

wearing nothing but his shirt, she also looked like a thoroughly fucked woman. From the whisker rash Material © NôvelDrama.Org.

on her neck, to the faint finger marks around her delicate wrists—fuck, I left bruises—to the disheveled

hair, the kiss-swollen lips, and the blush that stained her pale skin, she practically screamed “had

passionate sex”.

“You.” He looked back at the other man. “Don’t get to look at what’s mine.” He fought the urge to plant

his fist in this Jack’s insolent face, and addressed his incompetent nanny instead. “As for you.” He ran

his gaze over Rosamunde’s appearance. The itty bitty little skirt and low-cut blouse she was wearing

were most definitely not suited for looking after Rhia. Neither had they been the clothes this woman

had been wearing when he’d left her in charge of the little girl. He pinched the bridge of his nose and

shook his head.

“You’re fired.”