Chapter 9 #3
“You’re welcome. I thought you’d like it. I use this place a lot for client dinners, and it’s always received well,” Theo says, smoothing his napkin across his lap with practiced ease. “Most people fly into Florida expecting Disney. Even if the company has absolutely nothing to do with it.”
I hum thoughtfully as I unfold my own napkin.
“That makes sense. I almost applied to work for them, you know. But I didn’t think I had a good shot.
” I reach for my water glass. “My advisor said I wouldn’t be competitive enough.
Most people have at least a couple years of experience already under their belt. ” I give a small shrug.
“I’m glad you didn’t. You would’ve been wasting your time with them. It would’ve been at least two years before you’d make it to looking at track layouts. Your end goal has always been coaster design, hasn’t it?”
“Yeah, how did you—”
“I remember your interview. I was on your panel.”
“I’m surprised you remember. You must’ve dealt with a lot of candidates.”
“No.” He shakes his head, leaning back as the lantern light catches the sharp line of his profile.
“I don’t normally do interviews. It was a one-time thing.
I was only stepping in for a colleague who was out sick.
But I remember how much fun I had.” He offers a rare, lopsided ghost of a smile.
“It isn’t often I get to ask such technical questions and actually get an answer that makes me think. ”
He nods, his gaze settling on me with an intensity that feels far more personal than a performance review.
“I’ve been told that a lot of candidates crumble when we poke holes in their work.
They rush to agree. They apologize. They try to guess what I want to hear because they’re desperate for the job. ”
His expression remains steady. “You didn’t.
You corrected me. You explained your reasoning, acknowledged the limitations, and defended your design without ever getting defensive.
You held your own and impressed me. All of us.
I wanted Mara to make a job offer to you on the spot, but HR would’ve had my head. ”
A thousand little lightning bugs flutter inside my chest. It’s a sensation that has nothing to do with the height of the rooftop or the cooling breeze.
Rather, it’s the weight of the realization that Theo wanted me.
All this time, I’ve been bracing myself for a battle, trying to prove I belong in his world, only to find out I already have his acceptance.
A server arrives with dinner, setting down a lacquered black plate in front of me. Steam rises in soft curls from a perfectly grilled miso-glazed salmon, flanked by a delicate mound of yuzu-scented rice and roasted seasonal vegetables that are all bright and jewel-toned under the lantern light.
Across the table, Theo’s dinner is heartier, the most expensive thing on the menu. No surprise. He’s ordered a wagyu steak and a side of truffle-dusted potatoes.
“Itadakimasu,” I say, before lifting my chopsticks and helping myself to the salmon.
“What does that mean?” he asks, giving me a quizzical look.
“Oh.” I pause and glance over at him. “Just a habit. It’s a greeting we say back home before we eat. It expresses gratitude for a meal and the people who prepared it.” I return my attention to the plate.
“I like that,” he says, cutting into his steak. “I’ve heard it before, but I never knew what it meant.” He pauses mid-bite, eyes flicking up to meet mine. “How’s the salmon? Better than a protein bar?”
I snort. “What do you think?”
“To me it is, but you never know.” He shrugs.
I shake my head, swallowing another bite. “For the record, the salmon is perfect. It’s rich and buttery. Honestly, I could live on it.”
“Noted,” he says dryly. “The next time I need to bribe you, I’ll bring grilled fish.”
“Thanks, but I’d rather have a chocolate bar.”
“Of course you would,” he murmurs, placing his cutlery down and patting his mouth with his napkin. “Hypothetically speaking, aside from chocolate, what else would you accept?”
“I’m easy, all you need is ramen. But it has to be proper ramen. Not the instant-noodle crap you buy in the grocery store for fifty cents. I mean the kind that takes hours and hours to cook.”
I rest my chopsticks on the edge of the plate and glance at his dinner. “What about you? What would it take to bribe a man like you?”
He leans back in his chair, a thoughtful look crossing his face as he considers it. “One of my nan’s shepherd’s pies.”
Shepherd’s pie? Interesting. I wouldn’t have guessed he’d pick something homemade. He strikes me more as the type of guy who’d want something high-end or flashy. I mean, again, look at what he ordered for dinner tonight. “What makes your grandma’s pie special?” I ask.
“Everything. But it’s mostly the smell.” He sighs. “When I was younger, I always knew it was Sunday when I came down for breakfast and smelled the roasted lamb and veggies caramelizing in the pan.”
There’s a faraway look in his eyes now. “She raised me,” he adds so softly, I have to almost strain to hear it. “My parents were always . . . too busy.”
The last word hangs there.
“Do you ever see them?” I ask before I can stop myself.
“From time to time.” His knife stills against the plate. For a moment, I think he might actually elaborate, but then he pulls back and the professional boundary snaps back into place before I can see any further behind the curtain.
He shifts the focus to me. “What about you, Minami? You’re a long way from home. Is there anything you miss about it?”
I chew slowly, buying myself a second. There’s a lot I could say.
A lot of which he might not believe. “The small things,” I say finally.
“Summer festivals. Wearing a yukata. The smell of grilled corn.” I smile faintly.
“Not having to second-guess what I’m saying.
I use English so much nowadays, I don’t usually have to think.
But there are times it still trips me up. ”
Theo tilts his head, thoughtful. “I never would’ve guessed.”
“Because I hide it well,” I say, half-joking, half-serious.
A quiet settles over the table, the distant sound of the theme park humming in the background. I nudge a piece of salmon through the last of the miso glaze, my mind drifting to the reason I’m even in this country.
“How do you feel like you’re settling into Excelsior Parks?” Theo asks, switching back into boss mode.
“Pretty well. Everyone has been nice.” I picture Leon and the guys. “And Anya is an amazing mentor. I’m learning a lot.”
“I know in your interview you said this was the dream,” he says, watching me over the rim of his glass. “But now that you’re actually in the thick of it, do you see yourself staying with us long-term?”
I hesitate. It’s a loaded question to answer when your boss is the one asking and the truth is overly complicated. Orlando is everything I’ve hoped it would be. But at the same time, I feel like I need to be honest with Theo.
“Yes,” I say finally, meeting his gaze. “I do. Although . . .” I trail off, tracing the rim of my glass with a finger before finding the courage to continue. “My long-term goal is to get to London and the main office.”
Theo doesn’t offer the easy, supportive nod I’m hoping for. Instead, a quiet sigh escapes him. “That’s a brilliant goal, Minami. But it’s unlikely.”
I freeze. “What do you mean?”
“Transfers to the head office are rare,” he says. “Most people put in ten or fifteen years at one of the satellite offices before they’re even considered for a posting like that. If they get the chance at all.”
I frown, feeling a spark of defiance. “You were based in London. And now you’re heading up the entire Orlando division. I reckon you can’t be that much older than me.”
“I’m twenty-seven. I’ve been with Excelsior for five years,” he says carefully.
“Exactly.” I lean forward. “If you’re an exception, I can be one too.”
“You can . . .” he says slowly. “But it’s bloody hard work. You have to be prepared to sacrifice everything.”
He blows out a long, slow breath and suddenly looks exhausted.
“I interned with the Cooper Parklands attraction design firm for three years during uni. Took every overtime shift I could get. I volunteered for the projects no one else wanted. The ones that were most likely to fail.” He looks back up.
“I was miserable. But I proved I was useful enough that I couldn’t be left in the junior ranks. ”
Silence stretches between us.
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 deliberate clink and 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 actually wants to eat lunch together.
They look for reasons to be around each other when they’re off the clock. ”
He trails 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.”
“He doesn’t have to know,” I say, feeling a spark of playful rebellion. “And I do have one condition.”
His eyes fill with curiosity. “Which is?”
I smile despite myself. “Don’t call me Minami. Call me Kaori,” I add, glancing at him over the rim of my glass.
Another moment passes. Then he nods once. “All right,” he says.
And just like that, Theo Riverton, my boss, becomes Theo Riverton, my friend.