Page 7 of Logan

If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen.

I step through the grand double doors of my father's sprawling mansion, the click of my shoes echoing off the polished marble floors.

The housekeeper greets me with a nod. “He's in the living room, Mr. Valeur.”

I slip off my designer loafers, sinking into the soft embrace of luxurious house slippers as I make my way down the long, art-lined hallway. Priceless paintings and glittering chandeliers showcase the family's immense wealth at every turn.

I find Dad seated in his favorite wingback chair, nursing atumbler of scotch. Floor-to-ceiling windows offer a stunning view of the manicured grounds, but he pays them no mind, his steely gaze fixed on me as I enter.

“Hey, Dad.” I settle onto the sofa opposite him, the buttery leather sighing beneath my weight. “How are you?”

“I didn’t ask you here to talk about me,” Dad says, dodging the question as usual. “How are you, Logan? It’s been so long since you’ve been here that I’ve forgotten what you look like.”

I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “It's only been a couple of weeks, Dad. No need for exaggeration. Managing Valeur-Tech keeps me busy, as you well know. Besides, we talk every day on the phone.”

If you can call it talking. Our daily conversations are more like him barking orders and me obediently listening. As the head of Valeur Industries, overseeing Valeur-Tech, Valeur Real Estate, and Valeur Capital, he's not just my father, but my boss. And he runs a tight ship.

Dad swirls the amber liquid in his glass, his expression calculating. “What about the Wolfson deal?”

“I’m working on it.”

He rolls his tongue over his teeth and frowns. “London?”

“Next week.”

He nods, momentarily appeased, then peers behind me as if expecting someone else to materialize. “Did you bring a date?”

I nearly scoff. “No, I'm not seeing anyone at the moment.”

A muscle in his jaw twitches. "You're not getting any younger, Son. When I was your age, I already had four children."

I force myself not to roll my eyes. "I'm only thirty-five, Dad. Hardly over the hill."

It's not that I'm opposed to love, but rather that love seems vehemently opposed to me. There's no shortage of women eager to throw themselves at a Valeur, drawn by our family name and hefty bank accounts.

But I can spot the dollar signs gleaming in their eyes from a mile away, and I refuse to be played for a fool again. My brother Lucas may revel in the endless parade of gold-digging bed-warmers, but I have no taste for it anymore.

I’d rather invest my time in the company than in fake relationships. The one I had with Georgina was enough for a lifetime. Hell, I’m still paying for that mistake.

I clear my throat, determined to change the subject. “Actually, Dad, I had an idea about installing road cameras to detect drunk drivers?—”

“No. Absolutely not,” he says, cutting me off with a sharp slash of his hand.

Frustration flares in my chest, but I push it down. “Just hear me out.”

“Son, I know you mean well. Wanting to make the world a better place is admirable. But Valeur-Tech is focused on innovative medical devices. We can't just jump into a totally unrelated field on a whim. We don't have the right infrastructure or expertise. It would be like launching an entirely new company from scratch.”

“That's not true," I argue, leaning forward. "There's actually a lot of overlap in the underlying tech?—”

“Hey, Dad.” Cora's chipper voice cuts through the tension as she breezes into the room, all sunshine and smiles. Sheleans down to press a kiss on Dad's cheek, and his expression immediately softens.

All she needs to do is smile to get whatever she wants from him.

She plops down next to me on the sofa and pins me with a grin. I know that look.

She's up to something.

I narrow my eyes in mock suspicion. “What’s going on, Peanut?”