"Logan?" I called, watching while he scribbled out a letter addressed to a man named Michael. Let's just say it was a very strongly worded letter and I pitied whoever Michael was.

"I said quiet," he barked, not even pausing his writing.

I sighed and leant back a little. "I know but I am going to talk anyway," I informed him. "Why am I always stuck in my room? You said yourself that there is no way I could ever leave so why can't I roam the rest of this bloody mansion."

Finally, he quite violently clicked his pen and slammed it onto the desk, sealing his letter in an envelope. "The fact that you are so desperate to be allowed in the rest of my house indicates you plan to escape," he replied.

I let out a groan. "No, it doesn't. It indicates that I am bored out of my mind and would love a TV or someone to talk to. Anything," I whined.

"No," he simply snapped, pushing me up off his knee and striding to the door. I collapsed back into his extremely comfortable office chair and watched as he handed the letter to one of the guards outside and barked an order at them before swivelling back around. "You have about two seconds to stand up out of my chair," he growled.

I swallowed down my nerves and rose an eyebrow. "If I do, may I have your permission to explore your house?" I challenged and his dark eyes narrowed.

"No."

I sighed, clutching the arms of the chairs to keep myself from leaping up from the look on his face. "Please. I'm bored." I huffed.

"Get. Up," he ordered, now towering in front of me like a damn skyscraper, I had to crane my neck to see the top of his head.

"Only if you let me roam around the house when I am not in here," I argued, tightening my grip on the chair until my knuckles were white.

"You really want to do this?" He asked me in a menacing tone. "You want to negotiate?"

I hesitated. It seemed like a trap. I could feel my legs shaking and was sure if I did get up, they would give in under my weight and I would collapse to the floor. "Yes," I answered, my voice surprisingly strong.

He studied me for a moment, his hard expression giving nothing away. The only change in his expression was the slight widening of his eyes and a small twitch in the corner of his mouth.

"In that case, you are free to roam the house whenever you aren't in here. I will allow the staff to interact with you and you have permission to do as you please as long as it follows my rules," he caved and I grinned. I had actually won. "However, if you break a rule, you will spend the rest of your life here in the cells. It's your choice."

My grin dropped off my face. "Wait what?" My whole life locked in the cells. That bastard. He knew I would break a rule, of course I would, he had crappy rules. "No way."

"So, you will stick with spending your free time in your room then?" He smirked.

"Absolutely not." I scoffed. "You'll just have to change the offer to something I at least have a chance at managing to do."

He raised an eyebrow in consideration. "Three strikes then," he stated.

"A week?" I asked.

He scoffed. "A year."

"You are joking. Maybe if you didn't have such shitty rules, I would have a chance but come on... respect you? How am I supposed to respect you when you are such an ass?" I argued, keeping my head held high while my heart thumped.

He narrowed his eyes at me. "Three strikes a month."

I was taken aback. I had expected him to lash out and make threats. I was generally considering the offer, freedom to roam around the house could mean less time in Logans office - which would mean it would be easier to follow his stupid rules. But, on the other hand, it was easy to keep out of trouble in my room, in the rest of the house, there would probably be more opportunities to do something wrong.

"How about you show me around the house and then I can decide?" I asked and again, he studied me intently.

I couldn't hold his intense gaze so flickered to look at his perfectly ordered desk. Everything had a place and although there was a lot of stuff on it, there was an order to the chaos.

"Fine, get dressed." He finally agreed and I was shocked to say the least. I silently crossed the room to slip my shirt and leggings over the most revealing piece of lingerie there was in the bag, I had been saving it in hopes he would get bored but one of the maids took the rest to wash this morning.

"Let's go," he barked, grabbing my wrist and leading me out the office and down the stairs. The foyer was absolutely massive and truly beautiful with marble floors and gold leaf ceilings - Logan was loaded and it showed.

He guided me through the kitchen where a small, plump woman was scurrying about. She had a Spanish complexion and when she greeted Logan, her accent matched.

"This is Fiona, the head chef," he grunted, nodding towards the smiling woman.

"Hello," I greeted, "I'm Mia." I smiled politely while the woman clasped her hands on the sides of my face. Her skin was warm and calloused against my own.

"Mia, you are very beautiful," she complimented with a maternal smile that made me instantly more comfortable.

"Thank you." I smiled back.

"Are we done? Fiona has work to do," Logan snapped and instantly, the middle-aged woman dropped her hands and after a small smile, turned back to her work. "Let's go." Logan retook my arm and tugged me away.

"You know," I grumbled as we crossed a large dining room. The table was longer than anything I had seen and each seat - 20 to be exact - had a placemat set up perfectly, "you don't have to be so mean," I continued after gawking at the beautiful room.

Logan stared at me for a long time and I was beginning to think he was going to ignore me. "That was me being nice," he eventually replied and I frowned.

"Then I would hate to see you when you aren't being nice." I scoffed, running my hand across the smooth oak table and tracing my finger over the intricate design on the china.

"Yes," he nodded, "you would."