If he’s trying to scare me, it’s not putting me off. “I’m not afraid of hard work.”
“It’s not always about hard work. It’s also about weighing what you’re prepared to give up,” he adds quietly.
“Like what?” I ask, though I’m already reading between the lines. I’ve seen his relentless travel schedule, how he’s always taking call after call, and how he’s always in his office working when everyone else is heading home for the night.
“Going home on time. Having dinner with friends. Having a life in general.” He leans back, his expression turning pragmatic. “Have you ever wondered why Sharma isn’t the head of this office? She’s technically more qualified than I am. She could even be an executive in London.”
“Because she doesn’t want it?” I guess, thinking about her sons.
“Exactly. Her family is her priority. She wouldn’t trade her weekends and time off for a promotion.” He reaches for his glass, taking a long drink as he stares out at the castle. “I don’t have that problem. I have nothing to go home to.”
He sets the glass down with a deliberateclinkand looks at me with an intensity that makes my breath hitch. “I’m being honest with you, Minami, because you’re talented. You have more potential than anybody I’ve seen in a long time. I just... I don’t want to see you end up like me.”
I look at him—really look at him. The man who claimed during my first week that he was volatile is nowhere to be found. In his place is someone with a brilliant mind. A man who has conquered the industry in record time and has so many accolades to his name. Except, I’m starting to realize that for Theo, hotel rooms and terminal lounges are more of a home than any actual house could ever be.
I think of my family back home—Mama, Papa, Rei. I think about my new chaotic, nerdy, fun-loving work family here in Orlando. I realize I would never trade a single second of their company for anything. At least not right now.
Looking at Theo, the truth hits me with cold, sharp clarity—You can reach the very top of the mountain and still find yourself standing there entirely alone.
“Are you...” I start, the question feeling far too heavy for the cooling evening air. I swallow hard, my voice dropping to a whisper. “Are you still miserable?”
He just stares out toward the silhouette of the castle. “Not completely,” he says at last. The words come out rougher than I expected.
“Things have gotten better since I moved to the States,” he says slowly, his gaze drifting back to mine. “Being in an office that isn’t so sterile has changed things. There’s Sharma’s constant stream of consciousness, Billings’ terrible dad jokes, and a team that actuallywantsto eat lunch together. They look for reasons to be around each other when they’re off the clock.”
Hetrails off, his eyes searching the middle distance as if he’s trying to categorize something that doesn’t fit into a spreadsheet. “The culture is different. It’s like a...”
He stops, the word dangling between us, unsaid.
I watch him, and I realize I’ve never actually seen him sit down for those lunches. He’s always the one watching from the glass walls of his office, or hovering at the edge of the break room with a polite, distant nod. He recognizes the warmth of the team, but as the boss, he’s built a fortress around himself.
“A family?” I finish for him.
“Yes, family,” he says so softly, it’s barely audible.
“We kind of are, aren’t we?” I muse. “But there’s one thing missing from the dynamic.”
Theo tilts his head, his curiosity piqued. “And what’s that?”
“The cool older brother.”
He pulls back slightly, his brow furrowing. “A brother?”
“Yes. A brother.” I lean forward, smiling. “I don’t have one, but I’ve always imagined he’d be the person who’s just... there. Looking out for everyone when the parents aren’t around.”
Theo’s lips twitch, a sparkle of amusement in his dark eyes. “And I suppose, in this scenario, the parents would be...”
“Anya and Leon, obviously,” I say with a grin.
He actually huffs out a short laugh, shaking his head. “And I assume I’m the brother in all of this?”
“Exactly.” I bob my head up and down. “And that means we need you to actually hang out with us to make sure we’re behaving ourselves. You can’t do that if you’re lingering in the background like a ghost.”
He chuckles, a low, warm sound that vibrates in the space between us.
“And...” I’ve already sprinted past the professional boundary. I might as well see where the path leads. “That means it’s okay to be friends with us too. Starting with me.”
He stays silent for a long beat, his gaze searching mine as if he’s looking for the catch. Then his expression softens into something I’ve never seen before—something genuine. “Friends,” he repeats, the word sounding less like a category and more like a discovery. “I suppose I could manage that. Although Mr. Harris may not approve.”
