The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife
Chapter 106: The Same Bed Situation

Chapter 106: The Same Bed Situation

Jean blinked, confused. "Wait... what just happened?"

Jared was wiping tears from his eyes. "You just scared the child into dessert defense mode."

Logan leaned back in his chair, watching Jean with an amused, slightly dazed expression.

"I don’t know whether to be proud or terrified of you right now."

Jean shrugged unapologetically. "Don’t come between a woman and her dessert."

Martha, between chuckles, patted Jean’s arm. "You’re officially family now."

Jean smiled, her chest filled with warmth.

For once... she didn’t feel like a stranger in someone else’s home.

_____________________________

By the time dessert was over and Hannah had declared her tiramisu victory... Jean was in a full blown food coma.

She reclined on the nearest sofa, arms sprawled, her soul halfway to the afterlife.

"I can’t move..." she groaned. "Tell my company I died nobly. Death by dinner."

Martha chuckled, already fluffing a pillow beside her. "Oh, don’t be dramatic. You just need rest. Why don’t you both stay the night? It’s too late to drive back anyway."

Logan looked at Jean, expecting hesitation.

"Deal," Jean replied instantly, without lifting her head. "Just roll me to the nearest bed."

Martha clapped her hands cheerfully. "Perfect! You can use Logan’s old room."

Jean’s eyes fluttered shut with a sleepy smile. "Sounds good..."

Until she opened them again.

Wait.

Did she say Logan’s old room?

Before she could protest, Martha was already halfway up the stairs. Logan followed her, carrying Jean’s small bag while she waddled behind him like a bloated penguin.

When Martha opened the door, Jean blinked.

It was... very Logan.

Dark walls.

A huge bed.

Books.

A few childhood photos on the dresser... one with teenage braces. She tried not to snort.

She went inside the bathroom attached to the room with Hannah’s clothes... Martha gave her and came out wearing them. She noticed now...

There was only one bed.

Logan tossed the bag near the wardrobe and said nothing.

Jean finally whispered, "There’s just one bed."

Logan raised an eyebrow. "You really gonna sleep on the floor with that stomach?"

She sighed. "Point taken. You will."

Jean didn’t hear him replying.

She climbed onto the bed like a dying warrior, dramatically flopping onto her back. "I can’t even bend. I think I broke something."

The cozy atmosphere didn’t last long.

As Logan closed the bathroom door behind him and peeled away his suit jacket, Jean sat up abruptly on the bed, eyes narrowing with growing suspicion.

"What are you doing?" she asked sharply.

He raised a brow, tugging off his tie. "Getting ready to sleep. What does it look like?"

"In this room? On this bed?"

"Yes. It’s my bed. My room. My house." He pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it into the laundry basket. "Where exactly would you like me to go, Jean? The doghouse?"

Jean stood up, pointing a trembling finger. "So this was your plan all along. You knew your mother would make us stay. You knew this would happen!"

Logan paused, then slowly turned to face her, now shirtless, his torso lean and sculpted from years of discipline. He smirked... dangerous and amused.

"My plan?" he echoed. "You think I planned a family dinner just to get you into bed? Trust me, sweetheart, if I wanted to sleep with you..." He stepped closer, unbothered, lowering his voice, "I wouldn’t need a plan."

Jean’s heart kicked against her ribs. Her mouth parted, but no sound came out.

Then Logan slid off his pants, now standing in nothing but black boxers. "You’ve already signed the contract, Jean. Every clause. Every demand. Including the one where you promised to be a real wife. Not just in public..."

His eyes dropped to the bed, then back to hers.

"But in private too."

Jean’s face flushed, rage and confusion mingling in her chest. "Sharing a bed is one thing, but don’t twist the words. I didn’t sign up to be your personal stress relief."

"Didn’t you?" he asked quietly, and for a second... just a flicker... his smirk vanished. "Because I remember you flipping through that clause without even blinking. You agreed to everything. The bed, the image, the duties. So what exactly are you trying to deny now?"

Jean clenched her fists, breath shaky. "I still hate you."

Logan gave a low laugh and walked to his side of the bed. He slid under the covers with ease, back turned to her.

"Then hate me from your half of the bed," he said casually, "because I’m not sleeping on the damn floor in my own house."

Jean stood frozen, fury bubbling under her skin. She couldn’t leave... Martha would notice. She couldn’t sleep... Logan was there. She couldn’t breathe... her heart was racing.

She gritted her teeth, stormed to the other side, yanked the blanket with unnecessary force, and slid in... stiff as a board, facing the wall.

They lay there, a foot of silence between them, both fuming.

Neither slept a wink.

The silence was deafening.

The room was dim, lit only by the soft moonlight filtering through the curtains. Jean lay stiffly on her side, clinging to the very edge of the mattress like it might save her from drowning in Logan’s presence.

But the bed wasn’t made for two. At least not for two people pretending to hate each other.

Logan shifted slightly behind her, causing the mattress to dip. Jean gritted her teeth and held her breath.

Then it happened.

Their legs brushed.

A single, accidental graze of skin against skin. Her calf to his.

Jean jolted like she’d been shocked, immediately pulling away and drawing her leg up to her chest. Logan let out a soft grunt but said nothing.

Minutes passed. Maybe hours.

Eventually, the discomfort won. Jean rolled onto her other side with a sigh... only to find herself face to face with Logan.

Close.

Too close.

His eyes were already open, staring back at her.

For a long second, neither of them moved. The tension was so thick it could’ve suffocated them both.

Jean’s breath caught in her throat.

His gaze dropped for a moment... her lips, then her neck... before returning to her eyes. She could feel her heartbeat hammering against her ribs, loud enough that he probably heard it too.

She gulped.

Logan raised an eyebrow lazily, voice low. "Something wrong?"

"No," she whispered, her voice almost inaudible.

"Then why are you looking at me like I’m about to kiss you?"

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