His Nanny Mate (Moana and Edrick Morgan)
Chapter 297 By Eve Above Story

Chapter 297 Temptation & Her Mistress

Logan

The symphony of the ballroom surrounded us: the gentle murmur of voices, the soft clink of glasses, and the mesmerizing notes of the orchestra weaving a spell around the dancing couples.

But amidst all the sounds, there was a silence, a charged void, between Ella and me. Every step we took, every turn, and every glide was a wordless conversation.

My wolf, always alert beneath the surface, yearned to entangle with hers, to join in a dance of their own. I could feel the pull, the almost magnetic attraction between our two spirits, and it was maddening.

“I wish she would let me in,” my wolf complained, his voice a growl in the back of my mind as it mirrored my own turmoil. “Just for a moment.”

“I know,” I answered. “She’s a fortress.”

No matter what I did, Ella and her wolf resisted. There was a barrier, a wall she had erected, both to protect herself and to maintain at distance from the chaos of my world. My wolf growled low in frustration, longing to bridge that gap, to assert our bond..

I wanted to pull her close, to feel her breath against my lips, to lose myself in the intoxicating allure she radiated. The urge was overwhelming, almost primal, yet the conscious part of me fought it..

I knew it wasn’t the time, nor the place.

“You keep staring at me,” Ella said, a ghost of a smirk playing on her lips. “It’s weird.”

“Is it?” I asked, guiding her gracefully through a twirl as the music swelled. “You keep staring at me, too, you know.”

Ella’s face turned an even deeper shade of red than it already was. “You’re flirting with me.” “So what if I am?” I asked. “You’re a beautiful woman, Ella. And fascinating.”

The final notes of the dance approached, and the intensity between us grew. My hand tightened on her waist, her fingers gripped my shoulder a tad firmer, our eyes locked in an unwavering gaze.

We were on the edge of something profound, a precipice, and the fall was tantalizing. But just as the dance concluded, with our faces inches apart and the promise of a kiss hanging in the air, I felt the weight of a gaze upon us.

Breaking our intimate moment, I glanced to the side and met my father’s piercing eyes. They held a clear warning, a silent command.

Ella must have sensed the shift, the sudden tension. Her eyes, previously soft and lost in our connection, now held a hint of confusion, perhaps even hurt.

“You should…” I swallowed hard, the words catching in my throat, “get yourself another drink at the bar. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

She blinked, processing the abrupt change. “Alright,” she replied, her voice betraying what almost sounded like a hint of disappointment. “I’ll wait for you!”

As she gracefully made her way to the bar, I took a deep breath, attempting to quell the tempest of emotions within. I knew I had to face my father, to address whatever reservations he held. But the thought of it, the inevitable confrontation, filled me with dread.

The dance’s last note still lingered in the air as 1 walked over to my father, a poignant reminder of the emotional whirlwind that was Ella.

Ella confused me. One moment cautious, almost timid, the next, a fierce protector of a stranger. And yet, the very elements of her that baffled me also drew me in, like a ship to a lighthouse on a stormy night.

“Logan,” my father’s voice cut through the gossamer thread of thoughts weaving Ella into my consciousness.

I turned, facing him. His stature always. reminded me of the old oaks on our family estate-solid, enduring, and occasionally imposing. “Your ‘girlfriend’ seems quite taken with the hired help,” he remarked dryly, his eyes trained on Ella.

My gaze followed his. Ella, in her ethereal beauty, looked slightly out of place amidst the grandeur, like a wildflower in a manicured. garden.

“She’s… unique,” I replied, the shadow of at smile dancing on my lips. “She has a way of connecting with people, a rare gift.”

My father’s eyes held a cool skepticism. “I allowed that little spectacle earlier because the man you brutalized-Rodrick-was a problem. His businesses were cutting a little too close to mine, so I allowed you and your Alpha Princess to play your little game of ‘sticking it to the man’. But remember who you are, Logan. And who she might turn out to be. It’s unwise to trust someone who so openly fraternizes withi escorts.”

“Dad, I had no choice,” I defended, my gaze still fixed on Ella. “Rodrick beat that escort, and you and I both know that it’s a favorite pastime of his. It was about time someone stopped him.”

“And I suppose next, you plan on taking on half of the men in this place,” my father said, subtly gesturing around with his martini glass. “Then perhaps after that, you’ll go straight for the pimp himself.”

My father, even more subtly than before, nodded his head toward a man in the corner. He wore a blood red suit, with snakeskin shoes and a dark look in his eyes. And he was looking right at me.

“But don’t worry,” my father hissed, drawing my attention back to him. “Rodrick hadn’t paid his bill in quite some time, so it’s all settled now. But cross that line again, and you-and ‘Dahlia’-will both be sorry for it.”

Before I could reply, Harry sauntered over, his gait confident. Marina, dressed in an expensive red dress, was on his arm, laughing at something he had whispered. But the laugh only went as far as her lips; it didn’t reach her eyes, which were like two snake eyes. Calculating. Watching.

Harry and I were night and day. Where I was reserved, he was boisterous. He reveled in the attention, while I often found solace in the shadows.

“Logan!” Harry’s voice boomed, a smirk playing on his lips. “Drowning in the depths of another philosophical debate with father?”

“Always,” I retorted, glancing from Harry to Marina. “And you, enjoying the simpler pleasures, I see.”

Marina’s laugh tinkled, like wind chimes in a gentle breeze. “Harry does have a way of making everything feel light-hearted,” she said, giving me that snakelike look once more. “Where is your date?”

I nodded, my focus returning to Ella, watching as she gracefully interacted with those around her.

“She’s… mingling,” I said, looking back at Marina and Harry. I noticed, briefly, how Harry’s tongue shot out across his lips. How his eyes darted over Ella’s body, drinking her in. Like she was a buffet with no customers.

“Speaking of light-hearted, what brings you over?” I asked, wanting to draw Harry’s attention back to me. “Planning another one of your infamous pranks? Found another billboard to drop on me?”

Harry’s eyes twinkled, his smirk deepening. “No,” he said, “no billboards tonight. Actually, I wanted to tell you that I’ll be holding an after- party on the yacht tonight. Care to join? It’ll be a change from your usual nightly musings.”

“The yacht?” I asked, frowning. “After last time?”

“Oh, come on, brother,” Harry said, clapping his hand on my shoulder. “That gunshot at the last party was an accident; a simple case of someone forgetting to… turn the safety on. I’m sorry one of your men got injured, but it really wasn’t intentional.”

“Right,” I hissed, remembering the incident at the last party. There had been so much blood. “Forgetting to turn the safety on.”

Or maybe remembering to turn it off, I thought to myself.

Marina tilted her head playfully, her dark locks cascading over one shoulder. “Well?” she asked. “Are you coming? Of course, your date is invited. The night’s just getting started.”

I hesitated. The thought of drifting away on a yacht with my brother was alarming, but my father was standing right there, and Ella and I had already made enough transgressions that night. We needed to appear open, friendly. Otherwise, Ella would have a target on her back.

Before I could mull over it further, my father interjected, his tone firm. “A party sounds lovely,” he said, his voice laced with something I couldn’t quite read. “I think you should go, Logan. Introduce your girlfriend to the Barrett lifestyle.”

I sighed, meeting Harry’s amused gaze. “Fine.

Let me talk to Ella.”

“Ella?” Marina asked with a mischievous smirk, cocking her head to the side so that a lock of her hair fell onto her slender collarbone. “Or is it… Dahlia?”