Page 99 of Boss of the Year

Lucas, I had discovered over the week, didn’t actually like the city, despite having to work there almost every day. He preferred the quiet of the countryside when he could get it, or at least spaces like Prideview that afforded some access to nature. Like me, he was easily overstimulated by people and had learned to take the space he needed to recharge.

Robbie was wrong. Lucas’s choice to stay at the ryokan over a fancy Tokyo flat had nothing to do with me and everything to do with his own need to decompress.

“You would have liked it,” I told him. “We traveled all around the lake, and I saw a heron and two types of eagles, according to the guide. How was your day?”

“Long.”

Lucas rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck back and forth. I curbed the offer to massage out the tension, though the idea felt as natural as breathing. I couldn’t explain why.

“Three presentations, two conference calls with New York, and a dinner meeting that ran until nine.” He gave me a smirk. “I barely ate after that bento you packed. I knew you were making seared toro tonight with the miso duck, and goddamn, it was worth the wait.” He made a motion like he was patting his flat belly under the water. “Three servings. I’m stuffed.”

I grinned. Among other things I had learned about Lucas on this trip was that, despite his insistence that he had no favorite foods, anything duck-related guaranteed a cleared plate with requests for seconds or even thirds. It even trumped steak.

I only served it on “cheat” nights, also per request.

I had also discovered that Lucas didn’t really enjoy talking about his work, to the point where I was starting to think he kind of hated his job. The business meetings were too dull for a mind as quick as his. Every conversation and presentation felt trite and practiced, all of it part of the overstimulation he sought to escape once he was back at the ryokan.

It was a tragedy, really, that someone this brilliant was forced to while away his days in a position that was so unsatisfying.

“Can I ask you something?” I wondered.

“Of course.”

“What would you do if you didn’t run Lyons Corp?”

He stiffened, mid-rub of his neck, then dropped his hand into the water with a heavy splash. “I haven’t really ever thought about it.”

I tipped my head, scooting closer without even thinking. “Lucas.”

He turned, gray eyes sparking. “Marie.”

“I know that’s not true.”

One side of his mouth curved with humor. “Do you now?”

“Yes,” I insisted. “I’ve sat naked in this spring for over a week listening to you tell me all about your childhood, your memories of your mother, your predictable life, and how controlledeverything was for you, even when you had to take over the company at twenty-one. I do not for one second believe that ridiculously quick mind has never considered a life where you do something that doesn’t make you miserable every day.”

His eyes flashed when I said the word “naked” but returned to thoughtfulness as soon as I finished my little diatribe.

“Do I seem miserable now?” he asked.

“Well—no,” I had to admit. “Not now. But when you come home, you seem relieved to be here.”

It felt a little funny to call what was fundamentally a fancy hotel “home,” but I didn’t know what else to say. The ryokanwasour home base in Japan, just like the penthouse had been in São Paulo. And part of my job was to make it as homelike as possible for Lucas’s well-being.

“Maybe I’m just happy to see you,” he said.

I didn’t know if it was another joke or not, but I couldn’t deny the quiver of joy the idea brought me. “Maybe. But I don’t think that’s all it is. You’re avoiding the question.”

He was quiet for a few more moments, and I was content to wait while I leaned back into the spring, gazing at the stars. If there was one thing I understood, it was the need to give a person space to think.

“Plants,” he declared finally.

I turned. “What, like a plant shop?”

“No, like a lab.” He leaned back on the slab with his hands behind his head like a pillow. “I took an intro to plant biology course at Harvard and wanted to pursue a double major of study in biosciences. I managed to get three more classes to satisfy my science and elective credits, but my father wouldn’t allow me to lengthen my time at university. He wanted me at Wharton as soon as I could get there.”

I propped my head up on one hand against the bench, more interested in digging into this fascinating revelation about LucasLyons than in keeping the water all the way to my neck. “Color me shocked. Why plants, though?”