Stranded with a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #1)(81)

And here Logan was, their leader, about to bring the woman he loved to a meeting and explain to her that he was part of a secret society of billionaires. The tattoo on his arm? A badge of membership. His success? Interlocked with that of his brothers.

He hoped she’d understand. He knew there couldn’t be any more secrets between them, not if he wanted to keep her. And he was laying it all on the line, betting everything he had, because he needed her to realize just how much he loved and trusted her. And how different she was from everyone else.

The others would be furious. They wouldn’t understand. None of them were married or even had steady girlfriends, though Reese had a steady stream of women. But Logan had to do this.

He couldn’t risk losing Bront? forever. So he’d show her everything . . . and hope she wouldn’t be put off by the nondisclosure agreement she’d have to sign. Danica had balked at the prenup and shown her true colors. What would Bront? do?

Was he going to lose everything just by trying to include her in his life? He hoped not.

***

Bront? studied her closet. She had no idea what to wear to this mystery meeting. Meeting implied business, but Logan said it was friends. She studied the clothes hanging in the small closet. Go casual? Or dress up in anticipation of something fussy? She couldn’t decide. Tonight felt important for some reason, though she had no idea why.

Her mind was still on this morning’s conversation with Gretchen. Logan had offered himself just as he was, and she had been the one with the problem. It was a bit humbling. There was nothing wrong with being a waitress, of course. She liked her job and liked working with people. But she couldn’t be a waitress and be with Logan. The two were completely incompatible. Waitressing was hard work with odd hours. She didn’t want to be too tired to see him—or too busy. And it didn’t make sense for her to bust her butt for tips when he had money.

She had to choose.

And she was going to pick the gorgeous man she was in love with, of course. It was just a matter of admitting it to herself.

She decided on a simple black sweater and dark gray skirt with heels. Dressy enough that she could pass for formal, but it wouldn’t look out of place if the evening was casual. She smoothed her hair, applied a bit of makeup, and waited for Logan to arrive, her stomach fluttering with nervousness.

She had a feeling tonight was going to change everything in their relationship.

***

The dark sedan had shown up for their date, and Bront? didn’t even blink when the driver got out to open the doors. She would just have to get used to that sort of thing in the future, she told herself.

Logan got out of the car and kissed her lightly, then held the door open for her to get in. Bront? smiled at the driver as she entered, then slid over to make room for Logan. When he was seated next to her, she asked, “Is what I’m wearing all right?”

“It’s fine,” he told her, seemingly distracted, but he reached for her hand. With a nod to the driver, the car pulled away from the curb, and they began to head back toward midtown.

Bront? watched the buildings that passed, noting streets and trying to determine where exactly they were going. Where was this meeting being held? To her surprise, they pulled up in front of a small bar.

She gave Logan a curious look, but followed him out of the car and onto the street.

He put his hand on the small of her back and guided her forward. Inside, the bar was quiet, only a few patrons seated at wooden tables. It looked very . . . ordinary. A hockey game was playing on a TV set in the corner, and no one was paying a bit of attention to them.

“Is this where the meeting is?”

“I’ll explain everything later. I promise.”

Curious, she let him lead her to one of the back doors. A dark, narrow hallway was lit by a single unadorned lightbulb, and at the far end stood a large hulking man next to a door.

Logan stepped in front of her and headed toward the man, and unease grew in her stomach. This . . . wasn’t normal. Was this some kind under-the-table business deal? Something illegal? Oh, God. Was Logan into trafficking? The drug trade? Her stomach twisted with anxiety. Surely not. She’d never expected such a thing from Logan, but what were they doing down here in this dingy hallway for a business meeting? She didn’t understand.

The man eyed them with a cold expression, saying nothing, and Bront? resisted the urge to step behind Logan and let him shield her.

Logan lifted his hand and placed two fingers over his heart, then moved it up to his shoulder, and slid them down his sleeve. A very specific gesture. The man nodded as if satisfied, and his glare fixed on Bront?.

“She’s with me,” Logan told him.

The man’s eyebrows went up, but he simply nodded and gestured at the door. “The others are inside.”

This was clearly some sort of secret meeting. Her stomach clenched again. Surely Logan wasn’t in the Mafia, was he?

Then again, this was New York City.

Logan pushed the door open and then gestured for Bront? to enter.

She did, stepping down a narrow line of cement stairs into . . . a basement. A very well lit basement. Cigar smoke hung in the air, and she could hear the murmur of conversation that abruptly stilled as she descended the last stair and came into the others’ view.

A poker table sat in the center of the room. A drink table at the far end. Chips were scattered about, along with half-full glasses and ashtrays. Around the table sat five men, all scowling at the sight of her.