She took her time walking to the conference room and asked God to be with her. Nina had come a long way from being scared to check whoever about whatever and she prayed that it didn’t go there.
The conference room door opened and she stepped in.
“Miss Marcelle,” her assistant announced cautiously, “Carrington Strozier.”
She was a cute girl, but Jio wouldn’t have dated her otherwise. Nina recognized her beauty back at the funeral.
Men like Jio never cheated down.
Carrington stood tall in a cream wool coat with sleek dark hair cascading over one shoulder, her makeup soft but intentional. There was something refined about her. Up close, she could tell that she’d been around her kind before.
“You can go,” Nina said calmly to her assistant.
The door shut behind them.
Silence settled instantly.
Carrington studied Nina first.
Not rudely but carefully.
Like she was trying to connect the woman standing in front of her to the ghost of the man they both knew.
Nina refused to give her anything. She wouldn’t be able to find a hint of insecurity, curiosity, or emotion on her face.
She walked toward the drink station near the wall and poured a cup of coffee.
“You have ten minutes,” Nina stated coldly.
“That’s very corporate of you.”
Nina stirred cream into her coffee slowly. “And popping up at my office weeks after a funeral is very what exactly?”
Nina’s comment made her chuckle.
Jio liked direct women, which irritated Nina more than it should have.
Carrington removed her coat gracefully before taking a seat at the long conference table like she’d been there before.
“I know who you are,” Carrington said finally.
Nina sat down across from her, crossing her legs elegantly. “Who doesn’t?” She popped her shit proudly. Nina Marcelle was a household name and nothing, but hard work and years of sacrifice had earned her the right. She wasn’t being arrogant, she was simply stating a known fact.
The same way people knew the president or could identify a luxury fashion house by its logo, people knew Nina Marcelle.
Her face had been on the covers ofForbes,Fortune,VogueandEssence,more times than she cared to count. Universities taught business courses centered around the Marcelle succession plan after she'd transformed a century-old family company into one of the most respected luxury conglomerates in the world. MBA students debated her decisions in classrooms she’d never stepped foot in.
There wasn’t a continent she hadn’t visited or a stage she hadn’t spoken on.
The waiting list to hear her speak stretched months in advance, and corporations routinely offered seven figures for an hour of her time. Most were politely declined because money had stopped impressing Nina decades ago.
Time and her family were the only currency she protected.
People often assumed success looked glamorous, but they didn’t see the security briefings every morning or the handwritten notes from women thanking her for paying off their student loans. The young woman sitting across from her hadsome nerve coming to her place of business. Nina didn’t have time for this today. Every minute on her calendar was accounted for.
After she finished the therapy session that was interrupted by this impromptu visit, she was expected at a virtual meeting with heads of state to discuss expanding the Marcelle Foundation's maternal health initiative into three additional countries. Lunch was scheduled with the editors of one of the nation’s largest publishing houses regarding her upcoming memoir, a project she’d reluctantly agreed to after years of saying no. The afternoon included reviewing finalists for the Marcelle Fellowship, an annual program that had already produced dozens of CEOs, filmmakers, physicians, and elected officials from communities that had historically been overlooked.
Her influence was heavy. She had an influx of requests to fund hospitals, schools, museums, documentaries, and so much more. It was a quiet burden of knowing that a single endorsement from Nina Marcelle could sell out a product before sunset... or bankrupt a competitor by the end of the week. Her influence was heavier than her network, yet she seemed to carry both with remarkable grace.
