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Pete in particular has been nothing but a pain. I should’ve never let him be one of the founding investors for the new international market fund Finn and I launched, but he practically begged, saying he needed the best place to park his money. Of course, as soon as he got in, he shed his humble demeanor and started to act like a dick and make demands about how it should be managed. He thinks he’s all that because he has some money. He forgets weallhave money. I have enough to buy him out twice and still have quite a bit left over.

Besides, Ohimesama needs a face-to-face, come-to-Jesus moment. The owners are living in delusion, probably because the professional managers they put in place refuse to communicate bad news.

Max nibbles at her breakfast, her back straight. Her eyes roam everywhere but my face. I reach for the butter. She starts to grab a jar of strawberry jam next to it, then jerks her hand back.

“Why so jumpy?”

She shakes her head, still avoiding eye contact.

“If you’re worried about permanent damage, don’t,” I say, trying to get her mind off whatever’s bugging her. “Your back’s fine. I don’t commit medical malpractice.”

She snort-laughs. “I wasn’t going to sue you for ‘medical malpractice.’ I’m just…” She sighs, then rubs her temple. “What happened this morning isn’t something I wanted to have happen with you.” Her eyes flick down.

“I wasn’t wearing glasses, so I didn’t see much.” I shift to make myself more comfortable. My pants are so tight now.

“Enough to know what you saw,” she says dryly.

I sigh. “It wasn’t the first time I’ve seen a naked breast.”

She slaps her hands over her ears.

“I’m thirty-seven,” I add.

“I can’t hear you.” She glares at me, then lowers her hands. “We aren’t discussing anything HR would find wrong.”

“Facts aren’t wrong.” What’s wrong is her erotic thong underneath the prim dress and the image of a perfectly shaped breast that won’t leave my head.

Her grip on the fork tightens. I can tell she’s thinking about bossicide.

I almost smile. This side of her is much better. Max isn’t Max if she’s furtive and jumpy. “What are we doing today? Lay it out for me.”

Relief floods her eyes. “Our car should be here by seven, and we can make it to the Ohimesama HQ before eight,” she says crisply, easily slipping into assistant mode.

“The slides are ready?”

She checks her phone. “Yes. June sent me the files last night.”

June is Finn’s assistant, and more efficient than some of the MBAs we have.

“Good. And the interpreter?”

“Ohimesama said they’ll provide one on site, but we also have ours, although she’ll be mainly taking notes for final confirmations and the firm’s lawyers, so they can properly update the contract as needed. The morning’s all meetings, and we’ll have factory visits in the afternoon. Afterward, we have dinner with the CEO, the CFO, and some VPs from marketing, production and design.”

“Sounds exciting.” I pray they aren’t like the other Japanese execs I worked with three years ago. They took their work way too seriously. And drank like they had spare livers.

Max’s phone pings. She glances down. “Our car’s here.”

I nod, then finish the last sip of my coffee. Need every bit of caffeine.

She dumps half her suitcase into the laundry bag, scribbles something on the order sheet and leaves it next to mine on the bed.

I open the door. “Ready to go forth and conquer?”

Chapter Nine

Max

Ohimesama is a fairly new accessories and lifestyle product company catering to young women—or women who want tofeelyoung, as some of their marketing executives put it. Their catalogue is unabashedly feminine, with overwhelming pearlescent pinks and purples. Suits the meaning of the company’s name in Japanese: Honorable Princess.