“Bored yet?”
I slid a glance at my friend Ivy Wu. The raucous festivities celebrating Wheeler Corp’s partnership with Conte Enterprise receded while her brother gave a speech.
Ivy Wu was Wheeler Corp. Or rather, her older brother, Daniel, was CEO, and she was its social media face. I met her at the Stanford School of Business, where our rivalry for top honors later transformed into mutual admiration and finally into friendship. We became roommates by the second year.
It didn’t hurt that I harbored a giant crush on her brother.
I sipped my champagne, my gaze riveted on Daniel. “Oh, I don’t know. The view isn’t bad.”
When it was just the two of us, I had no filter about letting her know that I found her brother attractive. The teasing went along the lines of “we’re already friends, why couldn’t we be in-laws?” Around her brother though, I had the good sense to hide it, partly because of pride, but mostly because I valued Ivy’s friendship. It was an unspoken boundary of our sisterhood.
Daniel treated me as an extension of his baby sister anyway.
“Seriously, aren’t you over your crush yet?” In return, she teased me often about the first time I laid eyes on her brother. The “Swoony-Daniel” incident in question was when Ivy and I decided to become roomies. Despite having an empire to run, he took time out of his schedule to supervise his sister’s move into an apartment. Apparently I had a weakness for a man who doted on his sister.
And even if Daniel was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen, my crush on him went beyond the physical. Watching him as he gave his speech, I found him commanding without being arrogant, graced with a humility that I found appealing, charismatic, and admirable.
But a crush was all it could be. Keeping discussions of my feelings for him lighthearted was a form of survival.
A mitigation of future heartache.
An arranged marriage loomed in my immediate future, tightening the noose on my carefree days.
The older gentleman standing on the stage beside Daniel was my godfather, Gustavo Conte. Conte Enterprise was the biggest exporter of olive oil from Turkey and Italy. But more than being my godfather, he was the uncle of my prospective groom.
Nothing short of Daniel declaring undying love to me would sway me, Seraphina Moretti, from fulfilling my duty to the Moretti crime family.
“And to my sister, Ivy,” Daniel called. The spotlight swung our way, blinding us. We groaned and shielded our eyes. “Beside her is the lovely Sera Moretti, a longtime friend of the family.”
“Oh God,” Ivy muttered while doing a queen’s wave to the crowd she couldn’t see. “I told them never to use that harsh light on us. It washes out our color.”
“I’m sure your followers will know it’s the lighting,” I said. Ivy had an impressive following on social media which was instrumental to the success of their luxury boutique.
After Daniel finished his speech, he and Gustavo made their way to us amidst the crowd’s roar of approval and clapping. Wheeler Corp provided the cash flow and logistical expertise that would bring my godfather’s olive oil business to an epic global reach. All financial sectors had eyes on this partnership, which would mean unparalleled growth to Conte’s pipeline of the product into North America and Asia.
What wasn’t visible to the public was the positioning of chess pieces in the underworld given the potential merger between our families.
“Sera.” Gustavo clasped my hands and kissed my cheek. “You grow more beautiful each time I see you.”
“Zio Gus, how are you?”
“Getting older,” he said. “I haven’t seen you in months. You should visit our olive oil farms. We’ve totally renovated its equipment and process.”
“So I’ve heard.” I couldn’t help the excitement in my voice. My thesis for my business degree was on the modernization of olive oil production. “No objection from our old-school friends?”
Friends was putting it mildly. There was objection from the adherers to the old methods of hand-pickers and granite stone presses.
“Resistance is dying out.” He waggled his brows and his laughter held a hint of pride. “The projected profits with the new equipment is enough proof.”
Noticing the lack of input from the other two, I realized Daniel had ventured off. Ivy was frowning into her phone, but somehow over the years, we’d developed some kind of sixth sense and she looked up.
“How long are you staying here, Mr. Conte?” Ivy asked distractedly.
It was hard not to wince because it wasn’t a secret that Gustavo was returning to Italy in four days.
“Monday.” His attention was not on Ivy but over my shoulder, probably looking for her brother.
“You’ll have to excuse Daniel, he had to take care of something.”
Gustavo’s face grew troubled. “Hopefully it’s nothing that will distract him from our partnership.”
“I’m sure it won’t,” Ivy replied, but I knew her well enough to detect the slight doubt in her tone.
My godfather’s eyes returned to me. “I need to mingle with the other guests.” He gave me a kiss on the cheek and a hug and then shook Ivy’s hand. “Great job with the event, Miss Wu.”
When Gustavo disappeared into the crowd, I turned to Ivy. “Daniel is spread too thin.”
“That’s nothing new.”
True. Her brother was a known workaholic.
Ivy caught the attention of a roaming waiter. “Is that the Four Seasons’ virgin punch?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She exchanged our empty flutes with two colorful glasses of the bright yellow and red fruity drink and guided me to an abandoned high top.
But I was still offended for my godfather. I didn’t want to let this go. This was such an important occasion for Gustavo, and though admittedly my godfather was more sensitive than most to the smallest slights, even I thought it was disrespectful of Ivy’s brother to disappear right after making that big partnership speech. “What happened to Daniel?”
“Matteo De Lucci gatecrashed our event.”
