Logan wears a crisp white suit with a black bow and the shining Rolex on his hand, ready to arrive at the yacht gathering. Henry and team rode the same limo, matching his confidence. The limo stops at the dock in front of the yacht stairs. The driver opened the door for him and he got off.
Let's get over this already. I have wasted too much time here. Only because of her.
The moment Logan stepped onto the yacht, he felt it.
Eyes were on him,more than usual. He was used to attention, used to admiration, envy, and even silent resentment from rivals. But this? This was different. The energy around him shifted, the hushed whispers, the sideways glances, the smirks exchanged between guests. It gnawed at him, unsettling in a way he hadn't felt in years.
His stride remained composed, his expression unreadable, but inside, his instincts flared in warning. This was no ordinary scrutiny.
He subtly adjusted the cuff of his tailored suit before leaning toward Henry, his ever-efficient assistant. His voice was low, controlled. "Check what's going on. Something isn't right."
Henry, sharp-eyed as always, nodded once before slipping away into the crowd, phone already in hand, gathering intel. Logan, meanwhile, continued forward, his mind spinning through possibilities. He had faced enough corporate backstabbing to recognize when someone was moving against him.
And then it clicked. The way people whispered with barely contained smirks, the occasional glance toward where Jean's table is assigned. And his?
Our seats are at the same table, and that's too together?
Whatever was happening, it had to do with her.
His jaw clenched. If she was behind this, she had just made her biggest mistake yet.
Jean stepped onto the yacht with effortless grace, her presence an undeniable force that turned heads the moment she arrived. Dressed in an elegant yet commanding ensemble that hugged her form just right, she exuded power and sophistication.
The ocean breeze played with the loose strands of her hair as she walked forward, her team following in perfect sync behind her. It was a silent declaration, she was here to make an impact.
Mr. Kim noticed her arrival, his expression unreadable as he observed her approach. Logan, too, despite being engaged in a conversation, found his gaze inexplicably drawn to her. His fingers curled slightly against the glass he held, something unreadable flickering in his eyes.
Meanwhile, Junho, seated on the far side of the deck, narrowed his eyes at the sight of her. The memory of his humiliation at the pool party still burned fresh in his mind, and his lips curled into a smirk, he wasn't done with her yet.
But as Jean moved deeper into the gathering, she began to sense something off. The way people stole glances at her and whispered behind their hands covering their faces, it wasn't just admiration or curiosity.
No, this was different. There was a knowing glint in their eyes, a hushed excitement in their murmurs. A familiar unease crawled up her spine.
She straightened her shoulders, refusing to let it rattle her. Whatever it was, she would deal with it later. For now, she needed to focus on Mr. Kim.
Jean made her way to the seating area where name cards were meticulously placed for the attending CEOs. As her gaze swept over the arrangement, she suddenly halted. Her name was right there, next to Logan Kingsley.
What?!
Her jaw tightened, her fingers clenching momentarily before she forced herself to stay composed. Of all the people here, why was she seated next to him? As if the universe was conspiring against her, as if this was some cruel joke meant to test her patience.
She leaned toward Emma and whispered sharply, "Why is Junho giving me that creepy look from the other side? I feel something is not right. And why is my seat placed here? I should be sitting with Mr. Kim, not… here." Her eyes flicked to Logan's name card beside hers in frustration.
Emma's brows furrowed as she, too, scanned the room. "That's odd. This wasn't supposed to be the arrangement. You should be at the main table, not with the other CEOs."
"Find out who made the seating arrangements," Jean ordered, her voice low but firm. "This way, I'll never be able to present myself before Mr. Kim properly."
Emma nodded, giving Junho a wary glance before subtly stepping away to investigate, leaving Jean to settle into her seat begrudgingly. She didn't miss the way Logan was already watching her, that insufferable smirk playing at his lips was missing, infact, he looked angry. Very angry.
Jean exhaled slowly.
Something was definitely not right.
Jean took her designated seat, barely masking her irritation at the unexpected arrangement. Logan's nameplate was right beside hers, and she let out a sharp breath. Fate really had a cruel sense of humor.
Just as Jean was about to regain her composure, Logan slid into the seat beside her, his presence commanding but unusually silent. He didn't spare her a glance.
Jean instinctively looked at him, studying his unreadable expression. His usual smug smirk was gone, replaced by an unsettlingly blank face. The Logan Kingsley she knew was never this quiet. Something was wrong.
"Stop looking," he muttered without turning to her.
Jean's face heated. "I wasn't looking."
Logan finally turned his head, and when their eyes met, his glare sent a chill down her spine. There was no teasing or smug amusement—only cold, simmering anger.
"Don't look. Don't talk," he said under his breath. "Can't you see what's happening here?"
Jean's brows furrowed in confusion. She discreetly glanced around, this time with more awareness. The hushed whispers, the stolen glances, the way people tried to appear casual yet were clearly focused on her and Logan, it clicked.
Something definitely wasn't right.
"I didn't know you could stoop so low just to get my attention," Logan murmured darkly.
Jean's head snapped back toward him, eyes blazing. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Jean narrowed her eyes at Logan, irritation bubbling up. "Stop being cryptic and just say whatever nonsense you're thinking."
Logan leaned back in his chair, shaking his head with a humorless smirk. "Oh, I think you already know, sweetheart."
Jean clenched her fists under the table. "Don't call me that."
"Why not? That's what everyone thinks you are, isn't it?" His voice was smooth but laced with sharp edges.
She blinked, taken aback. "What the hell does that mean?"