Page 12 of Worth the Wait
“I’m sure they do. I’m just curious about your specific experience with these types of events.”
Lianne turns to face me directly, her expression carefully controlled but her eyes flashing with irritation.
“Mr. Judd, if you have concerns about my qualifications or the venue’s capabilities, perhaps we should discuss them directly rather than through leading questions.”
Erik looks between us with the cautious expression of someone who’s walked into a minefield without a map.
“I think there might be some miscommunication here,” he says diplomatically. “Why don’t I give you both some time to discuss the venue options privately? I’ll be in my office when you’re ready to talk logistics.”
He disappears back into the hotel, leaving Lianne and me alone on the terrace.
“What exactly are you doing?” she asks, her voice low but fierce.
“I’m evaluating a venue for a multi-million-dollar event,” I reply, though we both know that’s not entirely true.
“No, you’re being territorial and unprofessional. Erik is one of the most respected event coordinators in the city. If you have a problem with my choice of vendors, say so directly.”
She’s right, and I know it. My behavior has been out of line, driven by feelings I don’t want to acknowledge and instincts I thought I’d outgrown.
“I don’t have a problem with your vendor choices,” I say finally. “I have a problem with...”
I stop, because finishing that sentence would require admitting things I’m not ready to face.
“With what?” Lianne demands, stepping closer. “With the fact that I have professional relationships that don’t include you? With the fact that I’ve built a career without your approval or involvement?”
Her accusation hits closer to home than I’m comfortable admitting. Four years ago, I was part of her professional world, someone she consulted about venues and vendors and client preferences. Now I’m watching her work with other people, seeing the easy collaboration that used to be ours.
“You’re right,” I admit, running a hand through my hair. “My questions were out of line. Erik seems competent and professional.”
“He is competent and professional. He’s also someone I trust, someone who’s helped me build Luminous Events into what it is today.”
There’s something in her voice when she says it—gratitude, respect, maybe something more—that makes my chest tight with an emotion I don’t want to name.
“Were you involved?” I ask, the question coming out before I can stop myself. “Personally, I mean.”
Lianne stares at me for a long moment, her expression unreadable. “That’s none of your business,” she says finally. “My personal relationships are not part of our professional arrangement.”
She’s right, of course. But her non-answer tells me what I suspected—there was something between them, something that didn’t work out but left them comfortable enough to maintain a working relationship.
“You’re absolutely right,” I say, though the admission doesn’t make me feel any better. “I apologize for overstepping.”
“Good,” she replies, though her voice is still cool. “Now, can we focus on whether this venue meets Sterling Industries’ requirements, or do you need to interrogate more of my professional contacts?”
The sarcasm in her voice is well-deserved. I’ve behaved like a jealous boyfriend rather than a professional client, and we both know it.
“The venue is perfect,” I admit. “The ballroom, the outdoor space, the private dining options—everything Sterling Industries needs for a successful anniversary celebration.”
“Then we’ll move forward with the Esperanza?”
“Yes.”
She makes a note in her portfolio, her movements sharp and efficient. “I’ll coordinate the contract details with Erik and have everything ready for your review by next week.”
“What about tomorrow?”
“I have other events to plan, Cameron,” she says, the sound of my name leaving her lips making my stomach clench. “However, if you need this by tomorrow, I can have?—”
“Next week is fine, although I will be in Europe then but?—”
