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“Finn, it’s been a while.” I turn on my biggest smile, fake but ample. It might dislocate my jaw, but my work smile garners attention all the time.
He looks up and frowns, his shoulders stiffening. Is he going to pretend we don’t know each other?
“It looks like you haven’t bought a table at the fundraiser yet,” I chirp. “Perhaps an oversight?” I bat my lashes at him. Van den Lindens have never missed the event.
“London,” he sighs. “Of course.” He stands up, smoothing his yellow tie. “My assistant must have forgotten. My family has always proudly supported the cause.”
“Great. There are many research projects benefiting from your generosity.” I might fake my smiles, but the words are honest. The efforts to find a cure for leukemia need all the money I can find.
“Sure, of course. More causes need a—” he pauses a moment, “dedicated ambassador like you.”
“I appreciate your support.”And I believe you should do more. But I learned a long time ago that shaming people into donating only works short-term. “But if you have time later this week, I’d like to tell you a bit more about a project I’m currently sourcing funds for.”
He scratches his neck, making me brace for an excuse. I’ve worked on many members here already, and very few get truly excited about leukemia research. It’s not a sexy topic, but I don’t give up.
Finn clears his throat. “Why don’t you call my people and let’s have coffee later this week.” He bows his head and sits down, dismissing me, but at least he agreed to buy a table at the biggest annual event my foundation hosts and didn’t reject a future conversation. Yet.
Fucking van den Linden. He could sponsor a research lab for decades without even noticing the dent in his finances, but people like him diversify their donations.
Frustration coils around my stomach, but I maintain my smile. “Thank you, Finn. It was nice to see you again.”
“And you.” He doesn’t look at me anymore, completely over with the exchange.
I return to my table and watch Gio work until our meals arrive.
Unsurprisingly, he digs into his meal while swiping over the screen. He ordered pasta, probably due to his unwillingness to put his phone down, and eats with one hand. Lunches with him are tedious, but I gain access to the members here, so I endure them.
I don’t want to eat in silence though. “What do you think is behind Bianca and Dad’s sudden summons for regular family meals?” I take a sip of my sparkling water.
My sisters and I are meeting in a few days to discuss it. The unexpected insistence on spending time together smells sinister to me. I’m worried either my dad or his wife, Bianca, who is Gio’s mother, is sick or something.
They served us the life-is-short speech as an appetizer, and I can’t shake the odd feeling about the whole situation.
“Hmm.” Gio nods his approval tomy question. Screw it. Is access to this dining room really worth being ignored for a whole meal?
Despite his abhorrent manners though, he has supported my projects in the past and helped me wisely invest my trust fund. It’s allowed me to donate my salary to the charitable arm of the Kyle West Foundation, an institution I founded and have been managing for almost ten years now.
Gio shows up when I need him, and while he constantly questions how I spend my money, he does help me all the time.
“You have blood on your shirt,” I say, just to mess with him.
His eyes snap down to his chest and he reaches for his collar, as if he could find the stain by touch. When our eyes meet, I’m pleased his irritation mirrors mine.
“So you do listen,” I mock him. “Good to know.” I give him a smile. Not the one I use when chatting with people like van den Linden. I don’t pretend with Gio. We grew up together, so he gets my glaring smile.
“For fuck’s sake, London, let’s not pretend this is a pleasant family affair. You don’t do that. I don’t do that. You schedule theselovelyoccasions to get access to the other members. To pump them for money or to hook up. I’m just the asshole who has to sit through a meal with you.”
“I don’t come here to hook up.” Indignation spreads through my veins. How dare he? I’m no prude and I love sex, but I’m not stupid enough to mix work with pleasure. “I’m sorry these lunches are such a waste of time for you. Why do you even indulge me?”
He drops his phone and takes another bite before he pierces me with his gaze. He chews in silence, perhaps contemplating his response.
“This pasta is actually fantastic.”
I halt my fork halfway to my mouth. “Asshole,” I snarl, and Gio laughs. Like throwing his head back, full-on laughter.
“I’m just teasing you, London.” He shakes his head at me. “I’ve been preoccupied with a merger in Europe, so my head is elsewhere, but Iindulgeyour company here because I think your work is valuable and important. Because while I don’t understand your way of life and how your remarkable altruism goes hand-in-hand with that bubbling anger and hatred you harbor under your well-put-together appearance, I believe you’re doing an important job, a service really. And people like me and my peers here need to be reminded to distribute our wealth beyond investments that multiply our return. Into something that matters.”
His words stir a fuzzy feeling inside me. I don’t know when something—or someone—last rendered me speechless. Outside validation of my mission isn’t normally important to me, but hearing the praise from my brother means more than I would have suspected.
