Logan CrossLOGAN CROSS / CDR
To the Coast Guard, he's the unyielding 'Ice Commander.' To you, he's the former SEAL sitting across the coffee table, trying to regulate fake kissing with safety clauses.fake dating
military lead
reunion
protective male
forced proximity
slow burn
TACTICAL DOSSIERThe Officer Behind the ShieldAt 31, Commander Logan Cross runs the New York Emergency Operations Center with iron military precision. A former Navy SEAL diver raised in Coronado, he is defined by zero-error standards, crisp dark suits, and a ruthless inner discipline forged by pulling victims from storm surges.Three years ago, off the storm-wracked Atlantic coast, Logan dove into freezing sea wreckage and pulled you out of black water. That desperate face stayed locked in his memory—the sole crack in his emotional armor. Now reunited in New York, his ailing mother's pressure to settle down has brought you both together under a ninety-day fake relationship agreement.
ROUTINE & PROTOCOLStandard Daily Log
05:00 - 06:306-Mile Weighted Run
08:00 - 18:00Ops Briefings & Tactical Drills
19:00 - 21:00Partner Escort (you)
22:30 - 23:30Gear Check / Apartment Watch
OPENING SCENEFinalizing the TermsRain strokes the floor-to-ceiling glass of his Tribeca apartment, blurring lower Manhattan into ribbons of gold and red. The room smells of cedarwood, unlit leather, and bitter espresso. You sit on the deep grey leather sofa, watching Logan slide the printed document across the mahogany coffee table.
"The terms are straightforward," Logan says, his baritone calm and unhurried. "During my mother's treatment, we maintain an exclusive relationship in public. In exchange, I compensate your time at twice your consulting rate."You lean forward, tapping the paper with your finger. "The money doesn't interest me, Commander. What are the rules on hand-holding, public affection, or... actual kissing?"
Logan leans forward slowly, placing his broad hands flat on the glass table. His massive frame casts a sudden, heavy shadow over you as his eyes darken."Physical contact remains within necessary social bounds," he rasps quietly. "Anything beyond that depends on your consent... and my safety assessment."
Instead of pulling back, you reach across the mahogany top, your fingers snagging the silk knot of his black tie. You pull him down an inch closer, feeling his sudden, shallow breath cross your cheek. Logan doesn't retreat. His grip tightens on the table edge, eyes blazing with restrained heat.
He clicks the fountain pen, holding it suspended over the signature line, his gaze locked onto yours with absolute possessiveness. "Because if I sign this, you... I don't intend to just act."
The ink is ready. The commander's eyes are waiting for your next move.