Chapter 11

The tweed jacket was a mistake. A hot, itchy, catastrophic mistake.

​Lena stood in front of the conveyor belt on Production Line 3, feeling a trickle of sweat navigate its way down her spine. The air around her vibrated with the chk-chk-chk sound of the labeling machine, a rhythm that was slowly driving her insane.

​”See?” Miu pointed a laser pen at a blur of white bottles zooming past. “The adhesive temperature is off by two degrees. The labels are bubbling at the corners.”

​Miu stopped the line with a button press. The sudden silence was deafening. She picked up a bottle of Silk Skin Body Lotion and handed it to Lena.

​”Look at the edge,” Miu instructed.

​Lena squinted at the bottle. There was a microscopic air bubble under the gold foil ‘S’ of the Schuett logo.

​”It’s… tiny,” Lena said.

​”It’s a defect,” Miu countered, taking the bottle back. “If this sits on a shelf in a humid bathroom for a month, that label will peel off. And then your premium product looks like a discount brand.”

​Lena frowned. She hated to admit it, but Miu was right. Appearance was everything.

​”So fix it,” Lena said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Turn up the heat. Or turn it down. Do whatever the machine needs.”

​”We are adjusting it,” Miu said, handing the bottle to a line supervisor. “But it takes time to recalibrate. Which means we’re losing fifty units an hour.”

​Miu looked at Lena. She noticed the sweat beading on Lena’s upper lip. She noticed the way Lena was shifting uncomfortably in the stifling heat. Most heiresses would have run back to the AC by now. Lena was complaining, yes, but she was still here.

​”You’re melting,” Miu observed.

​”I am glistening,” Lena corrected weakly. “Schuett women do not melt.”

​Miu let out a short laugh. “Come on. Let’s get some water before you faint again. I don’t have time to fill out another incident report.”

​They walked out of the production zone and into the employee breakroom. It wasn’t the fancy executive lounge; it was a simple room with vending machines, plastic tables, and a very strong fan.

​Miu walked to a vending machine, fed it some coins, and pulled out two cold bottles of oolong tea. She pressed one against Lena’s cheek.

​”Oh, god,” Lena sighed, closing her eyes as the cold plastic touched her skin. “That feels amazing.”

​”Drink it,” Miu said, cracking open her own bottle and leaning against a table.

​Lena took a long sip. The sugar rush helped. She looked at Miu, who looked irritatingly fresh despite the heat.

​”So,” Lena started, toying with the bottle cap. “Since you rejected my horse…”

​”The charm, Lena. Let it go.”

​”Fine. Since you rejected my gesture,” Lena emphasized. “What do I have to do to get off your blacklist? I can’t work like this. I need you to sign my QC reports without looking at me like I’m a criminal.”

​Miu studied her. She took a slow sip of tea.

“You really want a truce?” Miu asked.

​”Yes. My sister is threatening my shoe collection. The stakes are very high.”

​Miu smirked. She pushed off the table and took a step closer to Lena. The playful, dangerous glint was back in her eyes.

​”You tried to buy my respect with a bag charm,” Miu said. “That didn’t work. Because you were trying to bring me into your world. The world of luxury and orange boxes.”

​”It’s a nice world,” Lena defended. “It smells like vanilla and money.”

​”I’m sure it does,” Miu agreed. “But if you want to clear the air, you need to step out of it.”

​Miu checked the time on the wall clock.

​”You asked what you have to do to get off my blacklist,” Miu said. “It’s simple. Stop treating me like a vendor you can payoff, and treat me like a person. Buy me dinner.”

​”Dinner?” Lena blinked. She let out a relieved breath. “Oh, is that all? I thought you were going to ask me to scrub the floors. Fine. Dinner is easy. I know the owner of Le Normandie. Or do you prefer Omakase? I can get us a table at Sushi Masato-it’s usually a three-month wait, but I have connections.”

​”No,” Miu shook her head, cutting Lena off.

​”No?”

​”I don’t want a reservation,” Miu said. “And I don’t want a tasting menu that takes three hours where the chef explains the history of the fish.”

​”Then what do you want?”

​”I want real food,” Miu said firmly. “So here is the counter-offer: I pick the place. And you have to eat whatever I order. No complaints. No ‘is this gluten-free.’ You just eat.”

​Lena narrowed her eyes. “Is it… sanitary?”

​”It has passed my personal QC,” Miu deadpanned. “Do we have a deal?”

​Lena looked at Miu’s expectant face. This was a test. Another test. But if she passed it, maybe-just maybe-Miu would stop looking at her like a spoiled brat. And more importantly, she would sign the weekly report so Lena could keep her credit cards.

​”Fine,” Lena lifted her chin. “Deal. I’ll have Nut bring the car around.”

​”No driver,” Miu said. “Send Nut back to Bangkok. You ride with me.”

​”In… your car?”

​”Yes. Meet me at the staff parking lot at 6:00 PM.” Miu finished her tea and tossed the bottle into the recycling bin with a perfect arc. “And Lena?”

​”What?”

​Miu pointed at the pink tweed jacket.

​”Lose the jacket. Dress code is casual. Extremely casual.”

​Miu walked out of the breakroom, leaving Lena standing in front of the vending machine, clutching her tea and feeling a strange mix of dread and determination.

​”Nut!” Lena yelled into the hallway.

​Nut poked his head in, looking hopeful. “Are we leaving, Khun Lena?”

​”You are,” Lena said, checking her reflection in the vending machine glass. “Take the van back to Bangkok. I’m staying.”

​”Staying? But… where will you sleep? What are you doing?”

​”I’m engaging in a high-stakes negotiation,” Lena said grimly. “Go. And don’t tell my sister. If I die of food poisoning, tell the world I looked fabulous until the end.”