His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story

Chapter 334 Steal Away

Ella

I lingered in the opulent sitting room, Mrs. Wentworth’s words still fresh in my mind. The soft glow of the chandeliers painted the room in a warm amber hue, casting shadows over the lavish sofas and intricate tapestries that adorned the walls.

I couldn’t shake off the growing unease bubbling within me. Logan had been gone for hours, and every tick of the ornate grandfather clock heightened my anxiety. It was well past midnight by now, I had thought that he would have returned by now. What did he even mean by what he had said? Was he planning on confronting the men who kidnapped me tonight with so little preparation?

Chewing on my bottom lip, my gaze shifted to the large French windows that looked out onto the estate’s driveway. I half-expected to see Logan’s car approaching, but the gravel path remained empty.

The sitting room, with its high-vaulted ceilings and marble columns, was filled with the soft hum of the grand clock, its pendulum swinging methodically. As I sank into one of the plush sofas, staring absently at the intricate patterns of the Persian rug beneath my feet, a nagging unease gripped me.

“Something’s not right,” Ema said suddenly, pulling me out of my reverie.

I closed my eyes, trying to locate the source of my unrest. The emotion felt distant, as though it wasn’t wholly mine. Logan, I realized with a jolt. The fated mate bond we shared allowed me to feel his emotions, especially when they were particularly intense. And right now, I felt his distress.

“Ema,” I whispered internally, “do you feel it too?”

“Yes,” Ema responded, her voice tinged with concern. It felt like a cloud of unease, growing by the moment. I had heard tales of how it felt when someone’s fated mate was in distress, but I had thought that I was immune to it since I rejected him. Apparently I wasn’t.

My fingers drummed on the armrest, my patience waning. “Should I check on him?”

Ema hesitated, then replied, “Maybe you should. It’s been hours now. He could be in trouble.”

Grabbing my phone from the coffee table, I dialed Logan’s number, my heart pounding with every ring. Once, twice, three times… but no answer. The voicemail greeting clicked on, leaving me more worried than before.

My voice trembled as I spoke aloud, the weight

mused, her tone contemplative. “Or… you could

shook my head. “I don’t have a car here.” And yet, the memory of the grand garage flashed before my

Logan’s vast car collection!

me was a mix of polished leather, fresh wax, and the metallic tinge of oil. The overhead lights cast a soft glow over a

Every car had been meticulously cared for, their exteriors gleaming, their leather seats conditioned to perfection. As I walked through the aisles, my fingers brushed against the cool, smooth hoods, each car telling a silent story

vintage convertible caught my eye, its allure undeniable. It seemed powerful yet elegant, much like Logan himself. I remembered this car from before, when Logan took

of a car’s tires screeching to a halt echoed through

I cried, rushing to him. My fingers lightly touched the red splotch on his shoulder, feeling the wetness of

me a weak smile. “I had a bit

I gripped his arms. “A situation? Logan,

Pulling out a delicate handkerchief with the embroidered initials ‘D.L.’ from his pocket, he said, “Was inspecting an empty house when I found

trying to make sense of his

out of place.” He

gasped. “What

shootout. My men and I, we managed to get away. But not

sit. Ripping open his shirt, I grimaced at the sight of the shallow wound. The bullet

graze. I’ll be fine,” Logan tried to reassure me, but his words fell on deaf

I recalled seeing a first aid kit there earlier. Grabbing it, I returned to Logan’s side, quickly cleaning the wound with an antiseptic wipe. He winced and pulled

murmured, his gaze fixed on my face. I

the sound laced with pain.

rolled my eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “You love that

hint of his