Page 3 of Worth the Wait
This version seems more substantial. More thoughtful.
I don’t want to notice that about him. I don’t want to notice anything about him except how quickly this meeting can end.
“Absolutely,” I agree, making notes. “We can create intimate conversation areas within the larger space, natural opportunities for connection without the pressure of formal networking events.”
“Lianne has an incredible gift for reading social dynamics,” Sidney tells Cameron. “The charity gala she organized for children’s hospitals last spring raised over three million dollars because she understood exactly how to make people feel comfortable while encouraging generosity.”
Warmth spreads through my chest at the compliment, though it’s dampened by Cameron’s reaction. His eyebrows rise slightly, and something that looks distinctly like pride flickers across his features.
“Three million?” he asks. “That’s remarkable.”
“It wasn’t just me. It was a group effort, really, and for a good cause,” I say quietly. “The children’s hospitals needed equipment upgrades. Sometimes people just need the right environment to show their generosity.”
Something shifts in Cameron’s expression, a softness that reminds me uncomfortably of how he used to look at me when I talked about using my event planning skills for meaningful purposes. Back when he claimed to support my passion for making a difference.
Before his family made it clear that passion wasn’t enough to overcome breeding and bank accounts.
“I’d like to review the portfolio from that event,” he says. “For inspiration and reference.”
I nod, though sharing my work with Cameron feels dangerously personal. “I’ll include it in the comprehensive package we’ll send over.”
We wrap up the meeting with handshakes. When his hand grips mine, it takes all my willpower not to lose myself in his eyes, or notice the electricity shooting down my spine. I hate that he still can do that.
Maintaining my professional smile, I count the seconds until I can escape this glass-walled nightmare.
“Thank you for the comprehensive presentation,” he says, his tone neutral as I pack up my materials. Then he pauses, glancing at Jennifer and Sidney before his gaze returns to mine. “Actually, I don’t need time to review anything further. Luminous Events is exactly what Sterling Industries needs for our anniversary celebration.”
I freeze, my portfolio half-closed in my hands. Jennifer and Sidney exchange surprised glances—clearly this wasn’t the plan.
“Mr. Judd,” Jennifer begins carefully, “we hadn’t discussed?—”
“The decision is mine,” Cameron says firmly, though his eyes never leave my face. “Miss Peralta’s team has presented three exceptional proposals. Their vision aligns perfectly with Sterling Industries’ brand, their execution capabilities are proven, and frankly, after what happened with Morrison Events, we need planners who can deliver under pressure.”
My heart pounds as the reality sinks in. We got it. We actually got the contract.
“Of course,” Sidney adds quickly, recovering her composure. “We’ll have the contracts prepared immediately.”
“Excellent,” Cameron replies. “Miss Peralta, expect a call from our legal team tomorrow morning to finalize terms.”
“Thank you,” I manage, my voice steadier than I feel. “Luminous Events won’t disappoint you.”
“I’m sure you won’t,” he says, and there’s something in his tone that suggests he’s talking about more than just event planning.
The moment stretches between us, loaded with four years of history and unspoken questions. Then Jennifer clears her throat, breaking the spell.
“We should let you get back to your day, Miss Peralta,” she says diplomatically. “Congratulations on the contract.”
I gather my materials with hands that shake slightly, hyperaware of Cameron watching my every movement. When I finally look up, his expression is carefully neutral again—the board chair making a business decision, nothing more.
The full implications hit me as Amanda and I make our way to the elevator. We got the contract—the two-million-dollar opportunity that will establish us among LA’s premier luxury planners. But it also means I’ll be working directly with Cameron for the next three months.
“Holy shit, we got it,” Amanda whispers as the elevator doors close, her professional composure finally cracking. “We actually got Sterling Industries.”
I stare at my reflection in the polished elevator doors. Professional, composed, successful. Everything I’ve worked tobecome since the day Cameron taught me that love isn’t enough when faced with family disapproval and social pressure.
“I mean,” Amanda continues, “that was unexpected. Usually these corporate decisions take weeks. But did you guys, like, date or something? Because the sexual tension between you two?—”
“It’s ancient history,” I say. “Nothing that will interfere with our ability to deliver an exceptional event.”
