Page 31 of Worth the Wait
“Cameron?”
I look up to find Declan Pierce approaching our table, and I’m surprised by how relieved I feel to see a familiar face that isn’t part of my parents’ social orchestration.
“Declan,” I stand to shake his hand. “Good to see you.”
“You too. How’s the anniversary planning coming along?”
The mention of Sterling Industries’ gala immediately brings Lianne to mind—the way she looked this morning over hotelcoffee, the careful distance she maintained during our drive, the professional mask she wore to hide whatever she was feeling about last night.
“Very well. We have an excellent event planner handling the details.”
“That’s crucial for these milestone celebrations,” he says. “Maya and I just went through planning one of our events for Highland Community Center. The right planner makes all the difference.”
Maya. Lianne’s best friend. The woman who somehow managed to navigate a relationship with a billionaire developer despite coming from completely different worlds.
“I’d love to hear how that went,” I say, meaning it more than I probably should.
“Maybe we could grab coffee sometime one of these days. Compare notes on event planning challenges.”
“I’d like that.”
My parents and the Vitales watch this exchange with polite interest, clearly trying to place Declan in the social hierarchy they understand.
“Declan Pierce,” I explain. “Pierce Enterprises. Community development and commercial real estate.”
“Of course,” my father says, recognition dawning. “That partnership with a community center downtown.”
“Highland Community Center,” Declan says as my father nods.
“Very innovative approach to community engagement.”
“Maya deserves all the credit for that,” Declan replies. “She taught me that the best business relationships are built on understanding what communities actually need rather than assuming what they should want.”
“Actually, I should introduce you to someone,” Declan says, glancing toward the bar area. “Elliot Walker just stepped in—he’s taken over day-to-day operations at Pierce Enterprises. I think you’d find his approach to sustainable development interesting.”
Before I can respond, my mother interjects with the kind of smile that suggests she’s ready to redirect this conversation back to more personally relevant topics.
“That sounds fascinating, but we shouldn’t keep you,” she says smoothly. “Isabella, didn’t you want to see the club’s art collection before we head back?”
“Actually,” Isabella says, “I should probably get back soon. I have a video call with my team in Milan this evening.”
Declan takes the hint gracefully. “Of course. Enjoy the rest of your afternoon. We’ll catch up soon, Cameron.”
The brunch winds down with polite exchanges of contact information and vague promises to continue our business discussions. Isabella gives me her card with a smile that suggests she’d be receptive to further interaction, and I reciprocate with the kind of courtesy that commits to nothing while leaving possibilities open.
As we walk back to the parking area, Isabella talking on the phone with her assistant, my mother falls into step beside me.
“She’s lovely, don’t you think?” she asks as she slips her arm around mine.
“She seems very nice.”
“Very accomplished,” she says. “And so well-connected internationally.”
“Definitely.”
“Your father thinks there could be significant business opportunities there.”
I stop walking and turn to face my mother directly. “Mom, are we talking about business opportunities or something else?”
