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“The boutique hotel chain catered to the college-aged demographic that Fleur opened fifteen years ago? Three hundred fifty-six locations across the globe on all continents, excluding Antarctica?”

He whistles and claps. “This is what I’m talking about. When we saw you working your ass off in recovery, we knew you’d be up to the task.”

“Just some basic research—didn’t want to waste any more time.” Warmth infuses my insides at his compliment and I curl a lock of hair behind my ear, brushing the mysterious hummingbird earrings I’m wearing in the process—they seemed like a good luck charm when I picked them out this morning.

“So, what the public doesn’t know is that division is struggling,” Lana murmurs. “Our numbers are declining and the stock market has caught wind of it. The target consumers are choosing Airbnb or otheroptions now. With this trend, we’re concerned about the stock price and how this may impact our other portfolios.”

I frown—obviously, I haven’t done any traveling since I got out of the hospital, so I’m not sure how I can help.

Clearly seeing the questions in my eyes, she answers, “As you know, Ryland is a full-time professor now. He’s trying to improve student internship programs so that the interns can actually make a difference instead of running errands or grabbing lunch orders. We want to test drive his new program and give him feedback.”

“So I’m your guinea pig? But I’m not part of your target demographic.”

I’m almost thirty—not the early twenties population who frequents The Strata.

Lana nods, a glint of excitement sparking in her eyes. “True, on the surface. But you bring something rare to the table.”

She leans in, her voice confident and persuasive. “You’re older, but you’re also in college and immersed in their world. And thanks to your time away,” I don’t miss how she avoids the wordcoma, “you have a perspective unclouded by the cynicism that comes with working in the grind. You’re the perfect bridge between generations—mature, driven, and unbiased.”

She pauses just long enough to let her words sink in. “This isn’t just about market research; it’s about shaping the future of a division. You’ll gain real world experience, fulfill your course requirements, and leave your mark—all while doing us a huge favor. A win-win, right?”

Clasping her hands on her lap, she looks expectantly at me. The room falls quiet—I can hear the AC humming in the background. A sizzle of energy prickles of my skin as I mull over her words. It sounds exciting and meaningful—a challenge for sure, but she seems to have faith in me.

I glance at Rex, finding a mysterious smirk on his face, then at Lana, who’s still exuding whatever positive, bright, magical energy she apparently has been blessed with.

She’s good.

“No wonder you’re the head of PR. You could probably sell my old ballet shoes at a premium and no one would complain.”

Lana laughs. “It’s only the truth. So, what do you think?”

“Well, you don’t have to convince me since I’m an intern, but from an ‘unbiased’ viewpoint, what you’re saying makes sense. I’m excited to help.”

“Damn right, sis.” Rex raises his hand and Lana rolls her eyes before giving him a high five. “I taught her everything she needs to know about human psychology.”

“Oh please, Rex. Who comes to me with women problems? Who runs his big marketing designs bymebefore they’re released?”

Shaking his head, he appears nonplussed. “Have to give you some opportunities to shine. The solar system can’t only rely on the sun. Got to let the moon come out sometime.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.”

I giggle, watching the two bicker. They remind me of my relationship with Liam—constantly wanting to kill each other, yet ready to destroy anyone who tries to hurt the other.

After a few minutes, Rex clears his throat. “Sorry. Lana drives me nuts. Anyway, to begin this project, you’ll be partnering with the bore of the Anderson family.”

“What do you mean?”

“A struggling division means numbers. Revenues, occupancy rates, budgets for revamps. This info will be the basis of a new marketing campaign to turn things around. That means,” a sharp glint appears the dark gray eyes that run in his family, “your new best buddy will be my younger and most unfortunate brother, Ethan, because he runs the finance department.”

My breath stalls in my throat.

Working with Ethan?I must’ve misheard. “Sorry, come again?”

I think back to the smug look on Ethan’s face before he strode away earlier. The damn bastard must’ve been talking about this.

Rex glances at Lana—a strange look passing between them. I narrow my eyes.What’s going on?

He clears his throat.