Grace's POV
I couldn't avoid it any longer. Like it or not, I had to meet Logan, especially after wearing the dress he gave me and letting him help me get ready. The man who picked me up led me to a café, stopping at the door to an outdoor area with a white theme, decorative lights, and flowers. There were only two chairs and one table, where a man sat with his back to me.
I took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and tried to calm my racing heart. This felt so romantic and special, leading me to conclude that he might repeat his request to start a relationship with me.
"Miss Emerson."
I turned to the man who picked me up. Handsome and authoritative in a black suit without a tie, he looked older than me.
"You can meet him now. Don't worry; there won't be any paparazzi or anyone else here to take pictures of you," he said, as if trying to assure me there'd be no gossip.
I nodded lightly, giving a faint smile before walking slowly toward Logan, who still hadn't turned around.
'Why is he just sitting there? Doesn't he realize I'm here?' I kept walking, struggling a bit because the heels were too high. Then, unexpectedly, I misstepped!
"Shasha!"
Before I knew what was happening, he caught me, preventing me from falling. I gasped, trembling, and looked at him. His deep gaze held mine, and a gentle smile spread across his face.
"You are so beautiful," he whispered.
I immediately pushed him away, standing up straight and trying to fix my hair, which wasn't even messy.
"Sorry, I..."
"No, I'm the one who should apologize," he interrupted. Then, glancing down at my feet, he added, "I shouldn't have given you heels that high. You must not be used to them."
"Ah!" I looked down at my feet, smiling shyly. "It's okay. They're not that hard to walk in. I can manage."
"I know you can do anything, but I don't want you to fall again." He extended his hand to me. "Shall we?"
I bit my lip nervously, unsure how to respond, before hesitantly taking his hand. He kept smiling as he led me to the table, where a steak dinner and red wine were waiting.
"I have something to tell you," he said.
"What is it?"
"I cooked this steak," he replied with a sly grin.
"Really?" I raised an eyebrow, smiling at the thought of him cooking in his sleek black suit.
He simply raised his eyebrows with a knowing smile.
"You didn't have to do that. If you were going to cook for me, we could've had dinner at your apartment," I said, glancing at him doubtfully. It all felt surreal. 'This feels like a dream—a romantic dinner with a handsome model much younger than me. What next?' I thought to myself.
"It's better here than at my apartment. I wanted this to be special, so I chose a special place. And my cooking is part of that," he replied calmly.
I could only smile, unsure how to respond. I felt undeserving of all this but also happy to be treated so kindly by someone after giving up hope on starting a new relationship.
But this evening didn't go as I expected. We only had dinner, talking about our childhoods and life experiences. He didn't mention wanting a relationship with me. I didn't know why—was he giving me time, or had he lost interest in me?
I couldn't think clearly. I suddenly wanted to clarify everything but didn't know how to begin. When he dropped me back at my apartment, I said, "You don't need to get out. I'm worried someone might see us leaving the same car and spread rumors."
He stayed silent but leaned slightly closer, his gaze fixed on me.
"I have to get out," he said.
"Shasha!"
Of course, he didn't let me leave. He grabbed my left hand, and I let out a frustrated sigh, my heart pounding too hard for me to meet his eyes.
"I won't bother you anymore after this, but give me ten minutes to talk," he said softly.
I turned to him, seeing the relieved smile on his face as if he was happy just to see me.
"Shasha, how do you see me? What do you think of me now?" he asked, his gaze piercing.
I swallowed hard, unable to bear the intensity of his stare, and looked down.
"I want you to be honest. No hiding anything between us," he continued.
I took a deep breath and looked back at him, studying his handsome face. "To me... You're a handsome and independent young man. You're humble, respectful of ordinary people like me—despite my low status and profession. You're kind and attentive. I just hope it's not because you like me..."
"No," he interrupted, shaking his head. "I never judge anyone by their status or profession."
"That's good," I said, nodding as my gaze fell to his hand still holding mine. "But... I... I feel like all this is wrong!" I pulled my hand away, looking at him with fear.
"Why?"
"Logan..." I couldn't speak, torn between confessing my feelings for him and my fear of the risks we'd face if we pursued a relationship.
"Hey," he said, cupping my right cheek with his left hand. "What are you thinking? Are you afraid this is wrong because I'm younger than you? Is that what's stopping you from accepting me?"
I could only nod.
"If that's the reason, it means you have feelings for me. You're just scared about the age gap," he said with a reassuring smile before taking my hand again. "Now tell me honestly. Do you have feelings for me?"
I froze, unable to answer. Fear and desire clashed in my mind.
"Shasha..."
"I don't know... I don't know if this is love or not," I finally admitted. "I feel like I want to be with you, but it feels so wrong. It'll only lead to problems!" I pulled my hand back and looked away, holding my head in my hands. "I don't want to take the risk of starting something I already know will end badly. I'm tired... I can't bear another heartbreak. I don't want to!"
"Shasha... Hey..." He gently placed his hands on my shoulders. "Don't cry... It's okay. Everything will be fine, trust me."
I stayed silent, crying in his embrace. It felt comforting, but the thought of his mother, Katherine Maverick, and his fans haunted me.
"You know what? I'm so happy you're honest with me," he whispered, stroking my hair like I was a child. How ironic—he seemed like my younger brother.
I pushed him away. "But you're twenty-two, and I'm twenty-nine—nearly thirty!"
"What's the problem with that?" he asked, raising an eyebrow and shrugging. "It's just age. If we're together, no one would guess there's such a gap. Age doesn't matter anymore."
"But what will people say if they find out? If anyone knows my age, your fans will too. They'll think you deserve someone younger, someone better, someone who matches your career. Someone who can—"
Before I could finish, he kissed me, holding my head so I couldn't pull away. I closed my eyes, stunned, as his tongue brushed my lips briefly before he pulled back.
"Everything will be fine," he whispered as I opened my eyes to his sweet smile. "I love you, and you love me. Don't think about anything else," he said, gently brushing his thumb across my lips.
I exhaled deeply, feeling strange as I looked away. Was this a confirmation that we were now dating? I hadn't said yes, and I wasn't even sure about my feelings. But that kiss... It felt like an answer. Oh, God. I'm going to lose my mind over this confusion!