Page 3 of Worth the Wait (Worth It All #2)

“You’re off your game today.”

My father’s observation cuts through my distraction as I watch my golf ball sail wide of the fairway at Riviera Country Club. Again. This is the third shot I’ve missed badly, and we’re only on the sixth hole.

“Just thinking about business,” I reply, pulling another ball from my bag while trying to ignore the way the morning sun catches the Pacific in the distance—the same view I had from Sterling Industries’ conference room when Lianne walked back into my life three hours ago.

“Sterling Industries’ business?” Dad lines up his own shot with the practiced ease of someone who’s been playing this course for thirty years. “I heard the Morrison Events situation finally got resolved.”

Morrison Events. The company that imploded spectacularly eight months into planning our anniversary gala, leaving us scrambling to find replacement vendors who could deliver on an impossible timeline.

Their financial collapse had been swift and messy—something about the owners’ marriage falling apart and one of them absconding with client funds before declaring bankruptcy.

At the time, it felt like a disaster. Now, watching my ball finally land somewhere near the green, I’m wondering if Morrison’s failure was the best thing that could have happened to me.

“We hired Luminous Events this morning,” I say, trying to keep my voice neutral. “They’ll be taking over with just three months to execute.”

“Cutting it close.” Dad’s shot lands perfectly, of course. “Are you confident they can handle something that elaborate on such short notice?”

More confident than I have any right to be, considering I made the decision based on seeing Lianne Peralta again after four years. But her presentation had been flawless, her team clearly capable of handling the pressure, and her company’s portfolio spoke for itself.

“Their work is exceptional,” I reply as we walk toward the green. “The owner has built quite a reputation in the luxury market.”

“Good. Your mother’s been planning this celebration for months.

She has very specific expectations about how Sterling Industries should be represented.

” Dad studies the lie of his ball. “She’ll want to coordinate directly with the event planners, of course.

Make sure everything meets her standards. ”

The thought of my mother “coordinating” with Lianne sends a chill down my spine.

Four years ago, it was my mother’s pointed comments about “appropriate relationships” that helped convince me I had to choose between family approval and the woman I was falling for.

The last thing I need is her discovering that Lianne Peralta, the event planner she’d deemed unsuitable, is now running Sterling Industries’ most important celebration.

“Actually, Dad, I’ll be handling all vendor coordination personally,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual. “Given the compressed timeline and the importance of this event, I want direct oversight of every decision.”

My father’s eyebrows rise. “That seems unnecessarily hands-on for a board chair. Your mother has excellent taste in these matters, and she’s been looking forward to?—”

“The event represents Sterling Industries’ brand, not the family’s social preferences,” I interrupt. “I need to ensure everything aligns with our corporate objectives, not Mother’s personal aesthetic choices.”

“Cameron, your mother has been involved in planning major social events for decades. Her expertise?—”

“Won’t be needed for this particular celebration.” My tone carries enough finality that Dad stops mid-sentence. “I’ll handle all coordination with Luminous Events. Mother can focus on being a gracious guest instead of managing vendors.”

Dad’s expression suggests he knows there’s more to this decision than corporate brand management, but he’s smart enough not to push. Yet.

“Speaking of your mother,” he continues, shifting tactics, “she wanted me to remind you about dinner tonight. The Vitales are in town. Charles and Patricia, you remember them. Isabella just finished her fashion degree in Milan and moved back to Los Angeles.”

Isabella Vitale. Beautiful, accomplished, from exactly the right kind of family. The kind of woman my parents have been not-so-subtly suggesting I should show interest in for the past year.

I line up my putt, using the movement to buy time while I figure out how to navigate this conversation.

The last thing I need is my parents arranging social obligations that interfere with the Sterling Industries planning process.

Or more accurately, interfere with the time I plan to spend working closely with Lianne.

“I have a work situation tonight, Dad. Rain check?”

“You’ve been saying that for months, Cameron.” His tone carries the familiar edge of parental frustration. “Isabella is exactly the kind of woman who would complement your position. Beautiful, educated, understands the social expectations that come with success.”

The same speech he gave me four years ago about finding someone “suitable.” Someone who wouldn’t complicate my life with inappropriate expectations or social awkwardness. Someone who belonged in our world without requiring explanations or apologies.

Someone who wasn’t Lianne Peralta.

My putt goes wide, adding to my growing frustration with this entire conversation. “Dad, I’m thirty years old. I think I can manage my own social calendar.”

“Can you? Because from where I’m sitting, you’ve been avoiding every opportunity your mother creates for you to meet appropriate women.

” He retrieves his ball from the cup—another perfect shot—and gives me the look reserved for discussing disappointing quarterly reports.

“Isabella isn’t just beautiful, Cameron.

Her family’s fashion empire has significant European connections.

The kind of international relationships that could benefit Sterling Industries’ expansion plans. ”

Business advantages disguised as romantic opportunities. It’s always about strategic positioning with my parents, about how personal relationships can serve broader family interests.

“Sterling Industries doesn’t need the Vitale family connections to succeed in European markets,” I say, finally sinking my putt on the third attempt. “We’ve been doing fine building our own international partnerships.”

“Doing fine isn’t the same as maximizing opportunities.

” Dad’s voice takes on the patient tone he uses when explaining business strategy to someone he thinks isn’t quite grasping the bigger picture.

“The Vitales move in the highest levels of European society. Isabella could open doors that take decades to access through conventional business development.”

We walk toward the seventh tee in silence, Dad clearly expecting me to appreciate the wisdom of his matchmaking efforts while I try to figure out how to shut down this conversation without revealing why I’m suddenly so resistant to their social engineering.

The truth is, seeing Lianne this morning reminded me exactly what I’d given up four years ago when I chose family approval over following my heart.

She’d built an incredible business, established herself as one of the premier event planners in Los Angeles, created something meaningful from nothing while I was busy proving I could succeed independently of the family name.

And she’d done it all without me.

“Cameron?” Dad’s voice cuts through my brooding. “Are you planning to participate in this conversation, or should I assume you’re too distracted by whatever work crisis is consuming your attention?”

“Sorry.” I select a driver from my bag, though my mind is anywhere but on golf. “What were you saying about Isabella?”

“I was saying that some decisions affect more than just personal preference. Your position in the community, Sterling Industries’ reputation, the family’s business relationships—all of that matters when choosing a life partner.”

The same expectations that made me choose family approval over the woman who’d made me want to be a better man four years ago.

Except this time, I’m not twenty-six and terrified of losing my inheritance.

I’ve built Sterling Industries independently.

I’ve proven I can succeed without their money or their influence.

And seeing Lianne today reminded me exactly what I’d sacrificed for their approval.

“I make my own decisions about who I date, Dad,” I say. “Sterling Industries keeps me busy enough.”

My phone buzzes with a text from Sharon, and I glance at it gratefully for the interruption.

Sharon Finnegan:

Contracts signed with Luminous Events. Jennifer says they’re ready to begin planning immediately given the compressed timeline. Need to schedule your first coordination meeting ASAP.

Luminous Events. Lianne’s company. The woman I’d been too young and too scared to fight for four years ago, who’d just walked back into my life because Morrison Events’ spectacular failure had created an opening neither of us could have predicted.

I stare at Sharon’s message, processing the reality that Lianne Peralta will be working directly with me for the next three months.

Daily coordination meetings, vendor selection discussions, venue walkthroughs—all the intimate collaboration that goes into creating a celebration that represents everything Sterling Industries has accomplished.

Everything I’ve accomplished independent of family expectations and strategic social connections.

“Cameron?” Dad’s voice carries obvious impatience. “Are you planning to take your shot, or has that phone call derailed your concentration entirely?”

“Work emergency,” I say, pocketing my phone without responding to Sharon’s message. “What were you saying about Isabella?”