3
I had upset Logan again. He left, bottling up his frustration so he wouldn’t show it in front of me. But I knew that later tonight, he’d drink himself into a stupor.
Sure enough, his assistant called, stammering on the other end of the line that Logan was drunk again and wasn’t making any sense. He said they couldn’t move him.
“Mr. Sterling has an important meeting tomorrow morning…” he asked tentatively. “Mrs. Sterling, what do you think?”
I sighed softly. “Send me the address. I’m on my way.”
I parked in the underground garage of a downtown club. After double–checking the address, I pushed my door open and stepped out.
The moment I did, I felt a pair of eyes on me. I instinctively followed the gaze and met the stare of a small boy, maybe two or three years old.
Across from my parking spot was a discreet black luxury van. The boy, neatly dressed with a beautiful, angel- ic face, was leaning against the half–open door, just watching me. He tilted his head slightly, his gaze full of a pure, direct, and gentle curiosity.
