Page 109 of Tattered (Lark Cove 1)

Logan hadn’t been happy when he’d found me there this morning, but he hadn’t been angry, just worried. He kept looking at me, checking on me and touching me. I’d give him small smiles, hoping to reassure him that I was fine.

We both knew I wasn’t.

On top of it all, I was nervous for Charlie. She was meeting new grandparents today, and when I’d explained to her over breakfast we’d be spending the weekend with Logan’s parents, she’d immediately gone quiet.

She’d barely muttered anything as we’d packed our things and said good-bye to the penthouse. The three of us were staying at the Kendrick estate this weekend, then Monday morning, Charlie and I were flying home.

“How much longer?” Charlie asked from her seat.

“Just right down this road,” Logan said into the mirror. He smiled at her, then over at me, taking my hand in his.

At this point, every touch was torture. I craved them, but they stung. Still, I didn’t let go of his fingers, forcing Logan to drive with one hand.

He turned off the highway and down a road that wound past gate after gate. People didn’t get to just “pop in” around here. You made an appointment. You probably had to get a background check before they gave you a gate code to enter a property. Every home we passed got bigger and bigger until we reached the end of the road.

“Whoa.” I was stealing Charlie’s word as Logan turned down a private drive. “Is this it?”

“This is it.” Logan nodded, letting go of my hand to roll down the window as he approached the gate. An oval plaque engraved with KENDRICK was in the center of the iron bars.

I looked over my shoulder to a wide-eyed Charlie. Her mouth fell open as we pulled through the gate and slowly made our way up an incline to the mansion.

The grounds were enormous. Green grass and manicured shrubs sprawled on both sides of the drive leading to the estate. The cobblestone courtyard had enough room to fit at least ten cars, maybe more, even with the fountain in the center.

“Is this where you grew up?” I asked Logan.

“It sure is. We spent a lot of time in the city too, but this is where we lived most of the time and where I went to school.”

I couldn’t imagine being a child in this place. Like everything else about our lives, it was the polar opposite of the orphanage.

The gray stone exterior spoke to the home’s age, but it had been meticulously well kept. The many windows were large and sparkling in the afternoon sun. Their rich, cream trim matched the ornately carved scallops along the roofline.

Logan parked and shut off the car. “Ready?”

No. I nodded anyway, unbuckling my seatbelt as he went to the backseat to help Charlie out. He took her hand, leading the way to the front door.

I smoothed down the front of my jeans, wishing I’d worn the dress I’d brought for dinner. Logan was in jeans too, but his were a dark wash. Mine were cuffed in a loose boyfriend cut. My white tennis shoes were new but totally inappropriate for a home that screamed high heels only. I straightened at the hem of my black cardigan, making sure it covered my white tee and that my bra wasn’t showing through.

Charlie and I were wearing the same style today, except she had on her cap. I quickly swiped it off her head, earning a glare as I smoothed down her hair. “No hats inside.”

That had never been a rule before.

As Logan approached the front wooden door, it opened for him. The butler bowed—an actual bow—and waved us inside. “Mr. Kendrick.”

“Hello, Phil. How are you today?” Logan asked as we passed over the threshold.

“Very well, sir. Thank you. You are all set up in the guesthouse this weekend.”

“Thank you.” Logan grinned down at Charlie, swinging her hand a bit. “Phil, I’d like you to meet my daughter, Charlie. And this is my girlfriend, Thea.”

“Please to meet you, miss. Ma’am.” Phil smiled at us both, bowing again. “If that will be all, sir, I’ll take care of unpacking your belongings. Your parents have requested everyone meet in the east parlor for cocktails at five.”

“Excellent. Thanks.” Logan nodded and off Phil went, snapping his fingers as he walked out the door. From nowhere, two other butlers appeared, each wearing khaki pants and a white button-up shirt that matched Phil’s.

I followed Logan and Charlie farther inside, taking in the estate with its tall ceilings, gleaming wood and marble floors. Everything was pristine, from the crystal chandelier to the gold-framed artwork, likely worth millions. It was the most elaborate home I’d ever seen.

“Would you like a quick tour?” Logan’s voice echoed in the foyer.

Quick? Not likely. We could get lost in here. “Sure. That would be nice, wouldn’t it, Charlie?”