Page 25 of Falling for the Enemy

“I’m writing.”

“Joce. Let me in.”

Her hand lifted to the lock, only to pause in the air. She knew better. “Go home, Daddy Issues. I’m busy.”

“Open the door, Jocelyn. Don’t make me say it again.”

Why did his commanding tone make her so weak in the knees when she knew the smart thing was to kick him to the curb? She despised heroines who couldn’t stand their ground.

“I’m on a deadline, Soren.”

A long silence passed, and she almost thought he’d back off. But she knew better. “Then don’t drag this out longer than it has to be. You know how it’s going to end. One hour. That’s all I want.”

That’s all I want…

It was official. As far as main characters went, she was absolute crap. The lock clicked, and the door opened.

CHAPTER 3

“HEY JEALOUSY”

The drive home from the office had become a ritual. A forty-five-minute meditation. A chance for Soren to decompress and release any unnecessary stress he carried back from Portland. However, the longer he filled his father’s shoes, the less willing he found himself to let go of the stress on that drive back to Hideaway Bay.

After a year and a half at the helm, the glamour and glitz of playing CEO for a global company had finally worn thin, and he was now experiencing the real work that came with boatloads of stress—thirty-six vessels’ worth, to be exact.

But his tension wasn’t solely about the fleet. Yes, he had to consider factors like rising diesel costs, safety issues, ship repairs, crew shortages, import price volatility, and the company’s public image, but there were also fluctuations in tariffs, contracts with outside vendors, concerns about climate change, and pressure from environmentalists. On top of that, there was the tiresome game of playing politics with the board.

One would think the Hawthorne name would have leverage since he and his brothers held three powerful seats as controlling shareholders, but his brothers had jumped ship since Magnus died. And some days he felt like he was alone at sea in a leaky lifeboat.

Soren understood Greyson’s decision to take a non-operational role. He’d always been more involved in the hands-on aspects of the job and had put in his years at sea. Plus, he made it clear he hadn’t wanted a corporate position from the start. His focus was at home, with Wren and their soon-to-arrive baby.

But Logan had no excuse. Maybe his younger brother felt pushed out by Soren’s aggressive seize of their father’s office, but there was still room for him in the company. They all had corner offices, whether they wanted them or not.

If Soren had waited for Logan to show up, the whole company would have capsized. So he was past feeling guilty for aggressively saving the company when no one else had the balls to take the wheel.

Soren was done mollycoddling the baby of the family. Logan was a grown fucking man, and it was time he started acting like it. It had been over a year since Magnus died, and they were all trying to find a new normal.

God, he hated that fucking term.

Soren gripped the wheel as his irritation swelled. Logan had an obligation to the company—to the family.

Fuck. Soren was starting to sound like his father, a man he despised for most of his life for being a manipulative, miserable prick who never shared a word of praise but made sure to voice every single disappointment he suffered whenever he looked at his three sons.

Soren did not want to take his father’s place in that manner. So he inhaled and exhaled—slowly—for the rest of the drive back to Hideaway Bay, in hopes that some bullshit breathing exercises might repair the fact that this job was much more stressful than he’d ever imagined.

Succession was a mother fucker. He was failing to earn the trust of the Magnus loyalists on the board, which he needed to steer the company where it needed to go. It also didn’t help that he was under intense scrutiny for this quarter’s performance.

Every soft quarter gave the board more ammunition. If they didn’t ratify the board and bring in an outside shipping company to scale up their products’ reach, they would never approve the other changes Soren wanted to introduce, changes that, in his opinion, the fishery desperately needed to survive at a global scale in today’s market.

Inhale. Exhale.

One would think Logan would get that. Possibly even care about the outcome since the fishery paid for his rather cushy life.

And…Exhale.

His white-knuckled grip tightened on the wheel. He tipped his head left and right, letting the tension pop along his neck. He needed a massage, a good back rub to loosen these ever-tightening knots in his shoulders. Or better yet, a blowjob.

His mind instantly jumped to Jocelyn. Something had been off the last time he visited her. She seemed…guarded and not herself. Despite having a date with Olivia tonight, he was already looking forward to seeing Jocelyn afterward.