His Nanny Mate By Eve Above Story

Chapter 299

Chapter 299 Target Practice

Ella

The laughter from Logan was unexpected-a short burst, barely audible over the ambient hum of the bar’s patrons. “You’re very funny, Ella,” he said, shaking his head. I sat up straighter, leveling Logan with an icy stare. “I’m dead serious, Logan.”

His blue eyes bore into mine, trying to gauge if I was joking. “You? A gun?” “Yes,” I replied, unwavering. “Growing up, my father made sure I took shooting lessons. For self-defense. Your bodyguard has an extra pistol, doesn’t he?” All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

Logan’s expression shifted from amusement to contemplation. “You truly think you can handle it?”

“I wouldn’t be asking if I couldn’t.”

He sighed and ran a hand through his dark hair. “Alright. But you’ll have to prove yourself first.”

“Prove myself how?” I laughed, looking around. “Don’t tell me your next big reveal of the night is for me to shoot the pimp that’s been standing in the corner and giving you dirty glares since you beat up one of his customers.”

Logan’s face turned a slight shade of red, but only momentarily.

“No,” he said. “Come on. I’ll show you.”

As the music and laughter reverberated through the bar, Logan took my hand and guided me away from the throng of people, making sure we went unnoticed.

On our way to the elevator, he made a quick detour to the bar, grabbing empty beer bottles that had been discarded by the party-goers. Their green glass glinted with remnants of liquid under the dim chandeliers.

“Are you planning to recycle those or something?” I asked.

He smirked. “You’ll see.”

We stepped into the elevator, where Logan pressed the round button that said “B”. As we took it down, the air was silent, save for the rhythmic dings of the elevator as we gradually descended each floor.

“So, Alpha Princess Ella took shooting lessons, huh?” Logan asked, glancing over at me. “Color me surprised.”

“Why so surprised?” I asked, “It was important for my safety. My father wouldn’t have it any other way.”

He scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Just didn’t think he’d be the type. He must be an interesting person.”

I smirked. “You have no idea.”

There was a slight pause before Logan, with a side glance, added, “Clearly, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”

I tilted my head, the hint of a smile forming. “What do you mean?” I asked. He hesitated, then finally said, “I find you… very interesting, Ella.”

Surprised by his candidness, I tried to keep my face neutral. “Do you?”

He looked a tad embarrassed. “I’m sorry, but when I first met you, I had some preconceived notions. Thought you’d be just another wealthy heiress, more interested in designer shoes than real-world

skills.”

I frowned slightly, taken aback by his frankness.

“And now?” He smiled, genuine and warm. “Now, I’m glad to admit I was wrong. I’m pleased to get to know the real Ella, and not just the tabloid version.”

I found myself taken aback, not expecting such raw honesty. A thousand retorts rushed to my mind, but instead of voicing any, I chose silence. Ema whispered, “He’s being sweet.”

But getting close was not on my agenda. “You shouldn’t believe everything you read,” I finally said, my voice cool. Logan chuckled. “I’ve learnt that now.”

The elevator continued its descent, the seconds ticking away, making the atmosphere grow thicker. “I look forward to meeting your father one day,” Logan remarked, breaking the silence.

Inside, I recoiled. I knew that Logan meeting my father was one of the stipulations of our arrangement, but thinking about it still made me uncomfortable. The thought of my straight- laced father meeting Logan filled me with a sense of apprehension.

My wolf growled softly, echoing my sentiments. “We’ll see,” I replied noncommittally, leaving unsaid the words that swirled in my mind: I’m not sure if I ever want that to happen.

The elevator dinged, signaling our arrival to the basement. As the doors slid open, revealing the rustic confines beyond, I felt a mix of relief and uncertainty.

Upon reaching the basement, the scent of old cement and moist dirt surrounded us, offering a stark contrast to the contemporary atmosphere above.

Logan began arranging the bottles on an old wooden table. The room was spacious, the brick walls damp, revealing its age and history. From somewhere high up, an old rusty sign hung, swaying ever so

slightly, bearing the emblem of what might’ve once been the name of a shop. Picking up the pistol, Logan winked.

“Watch and learn.” With a swift move, he aimed and fired. Two bottles shattered instantly, their fragments scattering across the table. He grinned triumphantly, expecting applause or at least some semblance of admiration.

“Good shot,” I remarked, clapping sarcastically, “but now it’s my turn.” He handed over the gun, an amused expression on his face, no doubt expecting me to fumble. Little did he know.

I steadied my breath, recalling all the sessions, all the instructions, all the relentless drills I had undergone. Holding the pistol firmly, I took aim.

Within moments, I’d cleared the table of the bottles, each shot echoing in the vast space of the cellar. Logan’s amused expression shifted to one of mild surprise.

Without waiting for his response, I looked up, fixing my gaze on the old sign hanging from the ceiling. It seemed almost a world away, swaying in its lofty domain. But challenges had never deterred me. I aimed, accounting for the sway, the distance, and the angle..

With a deep breath, I squeezed the trigger..

The report of the gunshot was immediately followed by a loud clang as the bullet hit the sign dead center. The impact caused it to swing violently from its perch, catching the dim light in a flashing dance of rusty metal.

The room fell silent, save for the ringing in my ears, as I lowered the pistol. I glanced sideways at Logan, a smug smile playing on my lips.

“Too bad you don’t have a moving target. I’d have liked to prove myself further.”

Logan’s jaw dropped. “That was… impeccable.”

I handed the pistol back, smirking. “Told you, I had lessons.” He blinked a few times, still processing the scene. “Your father really didn’t leave any stone unturned in prepping you, did he?”

I shrugged. “In our world, you never know when you might need an edge. Not that I’ve ever needed to use it before… now.”

For a moment, we just stood there, amidst the remnants of shattered bottles and the reverberating silence that followed the gunshots. Then Logan chuckled, breaking the quiet. “I’ve never been shown up like that, especially not by a woman in heels.”

I glanced down at my stilettos. “Shoes shouldn’t be an excuse,” I winked. He grinned, a genuine, boyish grin. “You’re full of surprises, Ella Morgan.”

“And I hope to keep it that way,” I replied with a playful smirk. He approached one of his bodyguards, murmuring something in his ear. The man nodded, removing a sleek, black pistol from his side holster and handing it to Logan. “This is for you,” Logan said, offering it to me, “but only use it if it’s absolutely necessary.”

Taking the pistol, I tucked it discreetly into my purse. “Of course,” I responded. “I hope I won’t need to.”

Logan’s gaze lingered on me for a moment longer, something unreadable in his eyes. Then, he seemed to shake himself out of his thoughts.

“Let’s get back upstairs. We’ve got a yacht to catch.”