The Ruthless CEO's Revenge Wife
Chapter 81: Keeping Things Spicy

Chapter 81: Keeping Things Spicy

"But Henry said...!"

Henry, standing behind Emma in the doorway with takeout bags in hand, raised his hands in surrender. "I didn’t say he kidnapped her! You said that. I tried to explain but you hung up after yelling something about confiscating him."

Emma frowned. "Oh."

Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the wall. "Wolf in designer suits, huh?"

Emma narrowed her eyes. "The verdict is still out."

Jean sighed and turned around. "If someone doesn’t bring me fried chicken in the next ten minutes, I’m jumping off this penthouse myself."

Emma rushed to her side with a sisterly glare. "You better tell me everything, Jean. What happened to your foot? What’s with the doctor visit? Are you eating? Are you safe? Blink twice if he’s holding you hostage."

Jean rolled her eyes, dragging her cousin toward the couch. "For the last time, I’m not a hostage. But I might be mentally held captive by everyone’s nonsense tonight."

Jean shut the bedroom door behind her with a determined click. The second it locked, Emma crossed her arms and spun around, her face full of concern.

"Okay, spill it," she demanded. "What the hell is going on? You’re limping, your dress is torn, you look like you went through a tornado, and you’re holed up in Logan Kingsley’s penthouse."

Jean groaned, brushing past her. "I’ll tell you everything, but first—I need a hot shower, then I need food, then you get your damn story."

Emma raised a brow, ready to argue, but one look at Jean’s exhausted face made her sigh in surrender. "Fine. But don’t think I’m letting you off the hook. You look like you’ve been dragged by a monster truck."

Jean snorted as she picked up the neatly folded bag placed on the bed—the one Henry had delivered on Logan’s request. "Let’s see what Mr. Kingsley considers ’comfortable nightwear.’"

She vanished into the bathroom, and a few minutes later, the sound of running water echoed softly through the room.

Emma paced the floor like an impatient mother hen.

When Jean finally emerged, towel wrapped tightly around her body and her wet hair dripping down her shoulders, she didn’t say a word. She marched straight to the bed, threw the contents of the clothing bag onto it, and stood there with a face full of betrayal.

Emma glanced down—and nearly choked on air.

A sheer, lacy, deep red lingerie set stared back at them both like it had no regrets.

Jean jabbed a finger at it. "This. This is what that idiot sent me. I knew it! Logan Kingsley has ulterior motives!"

Emma blinked twice, then picked up the flimsy fabric with a raised brow. "Okay... this isn’t exactly cozy cotton pajamas."

Jean groaned and flopped on the bed dramatically, towel still tightly clutched. "He wants me to believe he’s being noble and chivalrous, but then sends me something that screams Netflix and sin."

Emma bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. "To be fair, Henry is a man. Maybe he panicked and grabbed the first thing in the store with a woman on the cover."

Jean gave her a deadpan glare. "Don’t defend them. This is war."

Emma finally burst out laughing, throwing the lingerie back onto the bed. "If this was his plan to seduce you, it’s got some serious gaps. You look like you’re one wrong move away from biting his face off."

Jean smirked, but her eyes had a flicker of tired vulnerability. "He’s not the worst, Emma. But I can’t afford to trust anyone right now."

Emma nodded, her tone softening. "Okay. No more jokes. Tell me what happened."

Jean sat up slowly, still wrapped in the towel. "First... food."

Emma sighed again. "Fine. But after that, you’re not leaving anything out. Even if it involves men in silk suits buying lingerie instead of pajamas."

Henry set the last box of food on the table and let out a tired sigh. "If we’re done here, I’ll get going. It’s already midnight."

Logan shot him a glare. "You’re not going anywhere."

Henry raised a brow. "What? Why?"

Logan leaned back against the counter, arms folded. "You think I’ll survive alone with two dangerous women under my roof? You’re staying."

Henry groaned. "Getting tired already? You’re the one who dragged Jean Adams into your penthouse. Now you’re crying?"

That hit a nerve.

Logan’s jaw clenched. He looked away for a moment, trying to decide how much to share. But before he could open his mouth, the door to the guest room burst open with a loud BANG.

Jean stormed out, barefoot, wearing an oversized white shirt—Logan’s, unmistakably his. Her hair was damp from the shower, and fury blazed in her eyes.

Without a word, she tossed something straight at Logan’s face. It hit him squarely—the sheer lace fabric of a sexy black lingerie set falling at his feet like a declaration of war.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Jean snapped. "I knew you had ulterior motives. Pajamas, my ass! You got me lingerie?! Were you expecting me to model this for you or something?"

Logan blinked in shock.

Henry froze.

Emma, trailing behind Jean, looked between them and simply crossed her arms, choosing violence through silence.

Logan’s sharp eyes immediately found Henry. If you don’t speak now, you’ll never speak again, his glare seemed to scream.

Henry raised both hands like a hostage. "Hey! Don’t look at me! I didn’t know those were for her! I thought they were for, you know... your usual late-night guest."

Jean and Emma turned slowly toward Logan with matching expressions of horror and disgust.

Logan’s eye twitched. "You’re dead to me," he growled at Henry.

Henry gulped. Please, God. Let me die now rather than face his wrath.

Jean snatched the pizza box off the table with a scowl. "Enjoy your little bachelor’s paradise, Mr. Kingsley."

Emma gathered the rest of the food with a raised brow. "For someone who pretends to hate each other, you sure keep things spicy."

Then BANG, the bedroom door slammed shut behind them once again.

Logan stood there, still holding the lace fabric, while Henry quietly slid a bottle of beer across the table to him.

"You’re gonna need this."