Page 4 of Worth the Wait (Worth It All #2)

“I was saying that your mother has invested considerable time in maintaining relationships with families like the Vitales. Relationships that benefit all of us, not just your parents’ social calendar.

” He pauses, studying my face with the analytical attention he usually reserves for business negotiations.

“She’s beginning to worry that you’re deliberately avoiding these opportunities. ”

“I’m focused on building Sterling Industries right now. Social obligations take time away from that.”

“Marriage isn’t a social obligation, Cameron.

It’s a strategic partnership that enhances everything else you’re trying to accomplish.

” Dad selects his club with the same careful consideration he brings to major investment decisions.

“Isabella understands the world you inhabit. She knows how to navigate the social expectations, the business entertaining, the community involvement that comes with your level of success.”

The world I inhabit. As if my success requires a specific type of woman who can serve as appropriate window dressing for business functions and charity galas.

Four years ago, that argument terrified me because I wasn’t sure I could navigate that world successfully on my own.

Now, I know I can. The question is whether I want to spend my life with someone who’s chosen for her ability to complement my professional obligations rather than challenge me to be better than I am.

My phone buzzes again, and this time I check it openly.

Sharon Finnegan:

Also, Miss Peralta’s assistant called. They want to schedule a venue walkthrough for tomorrow. How’s your calendar looking?

Miss Peralta. Lianne. Twenty-four hours before I see her again, this time without the buffer of Jennifer and Sidney, without the formal structure of a business presentation.

Just the two of us, discussing flowers and catering and timeline management while trying to pretend we don’t have complicated history between us.

“Another work crisis?” Dad asks, his tone suggesting he’s reached the limit of his patience with my divided attention.

“Event planning coordination. The compressed timeline requires immediate action.” I pocket my phone again, but the damage is done—I can see Dad registering my obvious distraction, filing it away for future analysis.

“Perhaps you should consider delegating some of this hands-on coordination to your staff,” he suggests. “Jennifer Martinez is perfectly capable of managing vendor relationships. It would free up your time for other priorities.”

Other priorities. Like dinner with the Vitales, like getting to know Isabella better, like building the kind of strategic personal relationships my parents think I need to maximize my professional success.

“I prefer direct oversight for projects this important,” I reply, lining up my shot with more focus than I’ve managed all morning. “Sterling Industries’ fiftieth anniversary only happens once. I want to ensure every detail reflects our brand values.”

“Fair enough. But Cameron, you can’t use work as an excuse to avoid every social obligation your mother arranges. At some point, you need to make time for building a personal life that matches your professional achievements.”

The ball sails straight down the fairway—finally, a successful shot. As we walk toward the green, I consider how to respond to Dad’s increasingly direct hints about Isabella and marriage and strategic partnerships.

The truth is, I don’t want a strategic partnership. I want what I had with Lianne four years ago—someone who challenged me, who made me want to be worthy of her respect, who saw possibilities I was too cautious to pursue on my own.

Someone who built her own success rather than inheriting it, who understood the value of creating something meaningful rather than just managing existing wealth.

Someone I was too young and too scared to fight for when family pressure became too intense to resist.

My phone chimes again, and Dad sighs audibly when I pull it out to check the message.

Sharon Finnegan:

Miss Peralta’s assistant called about scheduling coordination meetings. They’re requesting immediate timeline discussions given the compressed schedule. Should I set up a call for this afternoon?

A call with Lianne. This afternoon. The safe, professional approach would be to handle initial coordination over the phone, establish working parameters through efficient conference calls and email exchanges.

But seeing her this morning—the way she commanded that conference room, the careful distance she maintained, the professional mask that couldn’t quite hide the impact our reunion had on both of us—I know a phone call won’t be enough.

Not when we have three months of intensive collaboration ahead of us, not when Morrison Events’ failure has created an opportunity I never expected to have again.

I want to see her face when we discuss venue options. I want to watch her eyes light up when she talks about creating experiences that matter. I want to be in the same room when we navigate the careful dance of working together despite our history.

“I need to get back to the office,” I say, pocketing my phone without responding to Sharon’s message. “The event planning situation requires immediate attention.”

“We’re only on the seventh hole, Cameron.”

“Sorry, Dad. When Morrison Events collapsed, it left us with an impossible timeline. I can’t afford to lose any more time.”

It’s not entirely a lie. The three-month timeline is going to be challenging for any event planner, even one as capable as Lianne.

But the real reason I need to leave is that I need time to think about how I want to handle working with the woman who still makes my pulse race just thinking about her professional competence and personal grace.

“Fine,” Dad says with obvious disappointment. “But Cameron, you can’t avoid these family obligations indefinitely. The least you can do is show up for dinner occasionally.”

“I understand,” I reply, though what I really understand is that my parents will never stop trying to manage my personal life unless I make it clear that their input isn’t welcome. “I’ll call Mother later and explain about the work situation.”

As I walk back toward the clubhouse, I reach for my phone to call Jennifer about restructuring the planning timeline, then pause.

This needs to be handled carefully. Even after acquiring such a lucrative account, Lianne is clearly successful enough to walk away if she thinks a client is going to be unnecessarily difficult.

But she’s also professional enough to work with a board chair who has legitimate reasons for hands-on involvement in a multi-million-dollar event that will be covered by every major publication in Los Angeles.

In my car, I draft an email to Jennifer outlining my increased involvement in the anniversary planning.

Daily briefings to ensure alignment with Sterling Industries’ strategic goals.

Personal oversight of vendor selection to maintain brand consistency.

Direct communication with the event planning team to streamline decision-making.

All perfectly reasonable requests from a board chair managing one of the company’s most important public relations initiatives.

The fact that it will also give me regular interaction with Lianne for the next three months is just an interesting side effect.

I’m curious to see what the poised, successful woman she’s become can accomplish when she’s working at this level. Curious to understand how she thinks about business now, how she’s learned to navigate the world of high-stakes clients and unlimited budgets.

Curious to see if there’s anything left of the girl I used to know underneath all that professional polish.

Curious to see how she’s done without me.