“The audacity,” Layla deadpans.
“I know. I should have just let her keep on assuming and being accidentally kind to a commoner.” Jenna’s mouth twitches. “Anyway. The woman is a nightmare. I’m sorry you had to sit through an entire dinner with her.”
“The father’s worse,” I say. “He’s quieter about it. Death by a thousand paper cuts instead of a single stab wound.”
“Classic upper-class passive-aggression.” Serena nods. “Never anything overtly offensive—just endless little comments designed to make you feel like you don’t belong.”
“Exactly. That’s exactly what it was like.”
“What did Logan do when they went full attack mode?”
I smile despite myself, the memory of that night still raw but edged with something warmer now. “He told them that if they ever disrespected the woman he loves again, he’d cut them off completely. No son, no legacy, no money.”
Layla gasps. “He did not.”
“He did. I heard the whole thing. I was on the stairs.”
“Oh my god.” She clutches her chest. “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”
“More romantic than when Bennett flew you to Paris for your birthday?” Serena asks dryly.
“Paris is just logistics. Standing up to your horrible parents for the woman youlove? That’s character.” Layla sighs. “Under all those awkward silences and napkin schematics, there’s a knight in shining armor.”
“He’s not a knight,” I say, but I’m smiling. “He’s just... finally letting himself be Logan.”
“The version that tells his mother to fuck off?” Jenna raises an eyebrow. “I like that version.”
“He didn’t technically tell her to fuck off?—”
“He told her he’d choose you over his entire family legacy.” Jenna’s expression is unreadable, but there’s something almost like respect in her voice. “That’s the equivalent of telling people like the Whitmans to fuck off.”
“Speaking of work,” Layla says, with the air of someone who’s been waiting for an opening, “how’s the Nakamura integration going?”
The shift in Jenna’s demeanor is immediate—a slight stiffening of her shoulders, a careful blankness settling over her features. “It’s going.”
“That bad?” Serena asks.
“The integration itself is fine. Theproject managementis...” She pauses, selecting her words carefully, “Challenging.”
“By project management, you mean Dominic,” Layla says.
“I mean the entire situation.” Jenna sets down her water glass with precision. “For months, nothing happened. Delays, rescheduled calls, documents that needed re-reviewing. I thought the hardest part would be the language barrier—which, by the way, is why Bennett put me on this in the first place, because I minored in Japanese in college. But no. The hardest part is working with a man who thinks every email requires a follow-up call, every call requires a follow-up coffee, and every coffee requires him to ask if I’ve ‘warmed up to him yet.’”
“That does sound like Dominic,” I offer.
“Now that integration has actually started, it’s hiccup after hiccup. Regulatory issues, staffing concerns, cultural misalignments in the restructure approach. Things that should take a week are taking three.” She exhales through her nose. “There’s been talk of flying to Tokyo for a face-to-face if we can’t get things back on track.”
“A trip to Tokyo with Dominic?” Layla’s eyes light up. “For how long?”
“However long it takes. Which is exactly why I’m highly motivated to solve these problems remotely.” Jenna’s jaw tightens. “A few weeks in close quarters with a man who has the attention span of an over-caffeinated squirrel is not my idea of a productive work environment.”
“A few weeks,” Serena repeats, exchanging a glance with Layla. “That’s a long time.”
“It’s a complex integration. If it comes to that.” Jenna picks up her water again, clearly signaling the topic is closed. “Which it won’t. Because I’m going to fix this from Chicago if it kills me.”
Serena’s phone buzzes on the table, and she glances at the screen, her face lighting up. “It’s Caleb. Apparently Michaela’s science fair is tonight and we’re all invited.”
“Science fair?” Layla asks.
