Page 7 of Worth the Wait
3
“You look better,”Amanda says as she hands me a cup of coffee. “More like yourself.”
“I feel better,” I say, and it’s mostly true. After running into Cameron Judd at yesterday’s presentation, it had taken Chinese takeout, a long bath, and a full night’s sleep (although it was a restless one at that), but I’ve managed to put yesterday’s shock into perspective, his reappearance in my life nothing more than a brief disruption in an otherwise perfectly controlled professional life.
No matter our history, Cameron is a client. Nothing more. Everything else is irrelevant.
“Good, because Jennifer Martinez called this morning to confirm they’re moving forward with our proposal,” Amanda says, her smile triumphant as she rocks excitedly on her heels. “Contracts should be ready by end of the day.”
“Did she mention the timeline?” I ask, already mentally organizing the next three months. Today alone, I have a wedding at ten, a corporate retreat proposal to finalize by noon, and threevendor meetings scheduled for the afternoon. “Taking over from Morrison Events with only three months to execute is ambitious, but we’ve handled challenging timelines before.”
The reminder of Morrison’s spectacular collapse still sends a flutter of anxiety through my chest. When their financial scandal broke—something about the owners’ marriage imploding and client funds disappearing—it left several major events scrambling for new planners. Sterling Industries’ anniversary gala was their biggest contract, and landing it feels like both an incredible opportunity and a test the entire industry will be watching.
“That’s the interesting part. She said we should expect more hands-on involvement from their board chair than usual. Apparently, Mr. Judd wants daily briefings and approval authority for all major decisions.”
I pause with my coffee cup halfway to my lips. “Daily... briefings?”
Amanda nods. “Mmm-hmm. She made it sound like he’s very particular about protecting Sterling Industries’ brand image.” She tilts her head, studying my reaction. “Is that going to be a problem?”
Before I can answer, our receptionist’s voice comes through the intercom. “Lianne? You have a visitor. Mr. Cameron Judd from Sterling Industries.”
My coffee cup shakes in my hand, sending liquid sloshing over the rim. Through my office’s glass walls, I can see him in our reception area, looking perfectly at ease in a charcoal suit that highlights his broad shoulders.
What the hell is he doing here?
“Send him in,” I manage, grabbing tissues to clean up the spilled coffee while trying to look like unexpected visits from billionaire clients are completely routine.
Amanda raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment, gathering her things with diplomatic efficiency. “I’ll be in my office if you need anything.”
Cameron appears in my doorway as she leaves, and I’m struck again by how much presence he commands without trying.
“Mr. Judd,” I say, standing and extending my hand for a professional handshake. “This is unexpected. I wasn’t aware we had a meeting scheduled.”
His handshake is firm and brief, no lingering contact or meaningful looks. Pure business. “We didn’t. I was in the area and thought it would be more efficient to discuss the planning parameters in person rather than through intermediaries.”
Planning parameters.
Right.
“Of course. Please, have a seat.” I gesture to the chairs across from my desk, the same setup I use for all client consultations. Professional distance. Controlled environment. My territory.
He settles into the chair. “Impressive space,” he says, taking in the awards on my walls, the portfolio books on my shelves, the framed photos of successful events. “You’ve built something substantial here.”
I can’t tell if there’s surprise in his voice or if I’m imagining it. Four years ago, I was a junior planner at Morrison Events, scrambling to prove I belonged in rooms full of people who’d inherited their places at the table. Now I own the table—andI’m about to prove that Morrison’s failure wasn’t a reflection of everyone who worked there.
“Luminous Events has been fortunate to work with clients who appreciate excellence,” I reply, sitting back down and powering up my iPad. “Now, what parameters did you want to discuss?”
Cameron leans forward slightly, his expression shifting into what I recognize as serious business mode. “Sterling Industries’ 50th anniversary gala is more than just a celebration. It’s a strategic opportunity to reinforce our position in the market, strengthen relationships with key stakeholders, and demonstrate our commitment to innovation and excellence.”
I nod, making notes even though this isn’t new information.
“Given the significance of this event,” he continues, “I’ll be taking a more hands-on approach to the planning process than Sterling Industries typically requires. Daily check-ins to ensure alignment with our strategic goals. Personal approval for all vendor selections, venue modifications, and design elements. Direct communication between your team and mine to streamline decision-making.”
I stop writing and look up at him. “Daily check-ins? Don’t you have other things to do besides micro-managing what we do? Unless, of course, you have no confidence in Luminous Events. And if that’s the case, maybe you need to find someone else.”
As the silence stretches between us, regret hits me. Am I really turning down the biggest opportunity of my career all because some billionaire wants daily check-ins?
Shitshitshit
