Page 5 of Logan

Yours always, Johnny.

I stare at the card, anger warring with the traitorous ache in my chest.

I crumple the note in my fist, the paper crunching in my grip. In one swift motion, I sweep the roses off my desk and into the trash can.

Does he really think some pretty flowers and empty promises will erase the hurt he caused? Does he think I'm that weak, that desperate, that I'll just fall into his arms like nothing happened?

Chapter Two

LOGAN

Ipress the intercom button to summon my personal assistant, but there’s no response. Is it really so difficult to find competent employees these days?

And yet, Liam insists that I’m the problem.

Buzzing again yields the same silence.

We’re in the middle of a damn workday.

I open the office door with a strong pull, just in time to catch her rushing out of the kitchen with a cup of coffee in her hand. Shit, I can’t remember her name.

“You,” I snap, narrowing my eyes.

She freezes in her tracks, a splash of coffee dropping onto the floor. “Yes, Mr. Valeur?” Her voice trembles.

“If you step away from your desk, you need to take the mobile extension with you,” I point out, gesturing toward the phone on her desk. “I shouldn’t have to go searching for you.”

Her pupils dilate as she stammers, “I–I was just making coffee?—”

“I don’t care,” I cut her off. “When I call, you answer. Got it?” Honestly, how difficult is it?

She nods, her gaze flickering between me and the spilled coffee on the floor, all the while avoiding my eyes.

“I need you to book my trip to London next week. Arrange the private plane, accommodations, and driver. And please make an appointment for me with the owner of Wolfson Electronics. His details are in the file.”

Closing the deal with him in person is crucial. He needs to see my dedication. I must show growth before the analysts’ forecast is published, or the stock will plummet.

Dad reminded me of this earlier this week—as if I needed the reminder. After all, I’m still the one running Valeur-Tech.

“Yes, Sir. Accommodations in…?”

“In the company apartment. Read the file. I don’t have time to waste on explanations,” I retort, closing the door behind me with a firm click. Sinking into my chair, I massage my temples, trying to ease the throbbing pain in my forehead.

Every week brings a new assistant, each seemingly without training or a clue. I can’t afford to train them from scratch every single time. They should be saving me time, not wasting it.

I’ll have to call HR again and give them a piece of my mind, ensuring they send a more qualified candidate next time.

My office door creaks open.

“Not now,” I mutter, keeping my eyes closed.

“Logan.”

I straighten, meeting the cool gaze of my younger brother. “Liam.”

“Headache again?” Liam drops into the chair opposite me, stretching his legs onto the desk, ignoring my irritated expression. “You really should see a doctor.”

“I need people to do their jobs.”