CH17
"You." Evonne squeaked, then clamped her mouth shut before she started cursing Logan, who was the occupant she had waited for. But before Logan could turn his face to look at her, she pretended to dig into her large bag, hiding her face.
Oh, dear, why all of a sudden must she have an itch in her throat? Trying to hold it in, she couldn't help releasing a massive cough, which alerted Logan to her presence.
Logan was a bit taken aback when he turned to see a petite woman holding a bag near her face, huddled in the corner of the elevator like a scared mouse. And here he thought he was all alone when he entered.
He supposed he was so depressed over losing his mysterious Lorddess that he didn't give a thorough look at his surroundings. He couldn't get a good look at her face, but the man was her body. Kind of reminded him of the Apple.
Evonne cut her eyes a bit so she could take a sneak peek at Logan when she was sure his attention was elsewhere. She lowered the bag a little more to get a better view. He looks horrible, she thought, absolutely horrible. Even worse off than when she'd first seen him at the café.
That hair was even more messed up than before. And his clothes… What was he doing last night, all wrinkled up like that? Then a scenario of the Lothario's activity of last night swam into her head. He must have bedded a woman, and by the looks of things, she must have kicked him out.
Otherwise, Lothario would never appear in anything other than pressed and branded clothing. Serves him right. At that very moment, as Logan was about to push the eleventh-floor button, he turned to face Evonne, who almost jumped in fright, automatically smacking her bag right in her face just so Logan couldn't see her, resulting in a loud thwacking sound.
The price of keeping one's identity anonymous was very painful indeed. Dear heaven, that hurt like hell. Damn you, Lothario. It's all your fault. "Hey," Logan asked somberly, eyeing the woman who was acting strangely. "Which floor?" Crap, he wants me to answer him? To keep her identity safe, she decided to use her best impression of an old lady's voice. "Eleventh floor," she said seductively. Shit, that sounded like his mysterious Goddess.
Logan's eyes immediately jerked toward the woman who still held that bag blocking her face. "Say that again?" Logan asked, which came out more like a demand, piqued at the woman's voice.
Could it be her? Heaven help her! Was she so affected by last night that her voice was still laced with that seductive passion? She had to use her hoarse voice if she wanted to fool Logan into believing she was an old woman. Muster up that croaky voice, Evonne. Muster up that voice now.
"Eleventh," she said seductively again. Oh deary me, it came out wrong again. By this stage, Logan was convinced the woman who shared the same lift was hiding something from him, and he bet his life that he was not wrong.
Moving closer, he tried to sneak a peek at her face, but whichever direction he turned, she would counteract, as a result, hiding her identity from him. Evonne could feel his gaze on her. Logan was standing so close.
If he saw her face, she was sure she'd die. Logan would annoy her again. She didn't need this. Not at all. How to get rid of him? she thought. Standing with the bag in front of her face for the duration of the lift's journey would not be successful because she could sense at any minute now, Logan would advance, demanding to see her.
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