Page 9 of Worth the Wait
“I’m glad we understand each other, Mr. Judd,” I reply, my voice cool and professional. “The past is irrelevant. What matters is delivering an exceptional event that exceeds Sterling Industries’ expectations.”
“Exactly.” He smiles, the kind of polite, meaningless expression reserved for business acquaintances and social obligations. “I’ll look forward to hearing from your office.”
As the door closes behind him, I head to the reception area, watching through the windows as he exits the building a few minutes later and walks to his car, a sleek black Aston Martin parked in a visitor spot like he belongs here.
“So,” Amanda says, appearing at my elbow with a quizzical expression on her face. “Two to three meetings per week with the billionaire board chair. That’s... thorough.”
“It’s professional,” I correct, though even I can hear the defensive edge in my voice. “High-stakes clients require high-touch service. It’s what separates us from our competitors.”
“Right. High-touch service.” Amanda’s tone suggests she’s not entirely convinced, but she’s too smart to push. “I’ll start coordinating schedules. Should I block out specific times, or does Mr. Judd prefer flexibility?”
“Start with twice-weekly meetings for now. We can adjust frequency as needed depending on what phase of planning we’re in.” I head back toward my office, needing space to think without an audience. “And Amanda? This arrangement doesn’t change anything about how we operate. Cameron Judd is a client. Nothing more.”
“Of course,” she agrees before I close my office door.
Back at my desk, I stare out the window, trying to process what just happened. Cameron didn’t just inform me about increased involvement—he restructured our entire working relationship. Multiple weekly meetings. Personal oversight. Direct communication.
Three months of seeing him two to three times per week, working closely together, navigating the kind of professional intimacy that made us click four years ago.
He claims it’s purely business, and maybe it is. Maybe he really is just protecting a strategic investment, ensuring that Sterling Industries’ anniversary gala reflects the level of excellence their reputation demands.
Besides, Cameron made his priorities clear four years ago when he chose his family’s approval over what we were building together. I learned that lesson, rebuilt my life around it, and became stronger because of it.
Now he’s going to discover exactly what he gave up.
4
My Aston Martin’sengine purrs to a stop in the Esperanza Resort’s circular drive, the ninety-minute journey from Los Angeles having done nothing to calm my anticipation about seeing Lianne again. Fifteen minutes early—exactly as planned.
I step out into the Montecito morning, adjusting my jacket while taking in the limestone facade and manicured grounds that stretch across fifteen acres of prime California real estate. Noah and Dominic Thorne built their hospitality empire on the same principles that made their steel manufacturing fortune—attention to detail, uncompromising quality, and the kind of service that makes billionaires feel their money is well spent.
Smart choice for Sterling Industries. Leave it to Lianne to see possibilities I’d missed despite playing golf here dozens of times.
I don’t know the Thorne brothers personally—despite playing their course regularly—yet Lianne managed to arrange this walkthrough on a day’s notice. Her industry connections are clearly more extensive than I realized, and that’s worth remembering for future business opportunities.
My phone buzzes—Running 5 minutes late. Erik Andersen, Director of Special Events, will meet you in the lobby.
Erik Andersen. The name means nothing to me, though event coordinators rarely move in my social circles. I pocket the phone and head toward the entrance, my footsteps echoing across marble floors as I enter a lobby designed to impress without trying too hard.
“Mr. Judd?”
I turn to find a tall man approaching, late thirties, with the kind of easy smile that suggests he’s mastered the art of making wealthy clients feel understood. His handshake is firm, professional.
“Erik Andersen,” he introduces himself. “Director of Special Events. Pleasure to meet you. Lianne speaks very highly of your vision for the Sterling Industries gala.”
Lianne.Not Miss Peralta. The familiarity in his voice when he says her name catches my attention immediately.
“I’m looking forward to seeing what the Esperanza can offer,” I reply, falling into step beside him as he leads me toward the ballroom complex. “Lianne mentioned this property could accommodate our specific requirements.”
“She knows our capabilities better than almost anyone,” Erik says, and there’s something in his tone—warmth, maybe fondness—that makes me glance at him more carefully. “We’ve collaborated on several high-profile events over the past few years. She has excellent instincts for matching clients with venues.”
Collaborated.An interesting choice of words.
“The Sterling Industries gala will be our largest event to date,” I say, steering the conversation back to business. “Five hundred guests, significant media coverage, attendees who expect perfection.”
“Understood. We’ve handled events of similar scope and visibility.” Erik pauses at the entrance to the main ballroom, his hand resting on the ornate double doors. “Before we go in, I should mention that Lianne and I have worked together extensively. She knows I’ll give you my honest assessment of what we can deliver, not just what you want to hear.”
“Miss Peralta will be coordinating directly with me from now on,” I say, my tone clipped. “I prefer hands-on oversight.”
