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Chapter 11
Sofia
Our last day in Paris is crammed with final meetings with two of the six companies we met this week. Bryce feels confident he’ll be able to tip the pendulum in his favor with the other three companies, but it might require another trip to Paris.
By the time we’re comfortably seated on the private jet, heading back home, we’re both exhausted.
The staff is fussing around us with champagne and appetizers.
Around a bite of mini quiche, I say, “I loved spending time with Mariella. I hope I’ll meet her again.”
“What do you mean, hope?”
“I’m not sure if there will be a future opportunity to meet her.”
“Mariella adores you. She’s disliked every single woman I’ve ever introduced her to and has a particularly acute disdain for Anastasiya, but you charmed her with your wit and charm. The fact you speak Italian didn’t hurt.”
“I’m happy to hear that, because I like her and enjoyed spending time with her. If you have to come back to Paris in the next few months to conclude the deals with the other tech companies, I’d love to come back and help. Obviously, if you’d rather hire a professional—”
“That’s a given. You’re coming back.”
“Oh. Um. Wow.” I didn’t expect that. “I’m looking forward to it.”
“I have big news to share.”
“I’m all ears.”
“I’ve been thinking about this since before we left New York. I’ve been looking at the many opportunities that came from the galas we attended a few weeks ago, and after a number of conference calls with my team of executives, I’ve decided to reopen an office in New York. I’ll move a small team that I’ll oversee personally at first, until I get an upper management team in place. The European clients need a different level of service than our American ones. A trip from Silicon Valley to Europe is a bitch. I can catch a redeye from New York, and it won’t be as punishing on my body.”
“You had an office in New York?”
“Yes,” he hesitates. “I did before shutting everything down five years ago.” He avoids my gaze, and feigns being preoccupied by fictitious lint on his well-cut pants.
There’s something more to this story.
When he lifts his gaze, his eyes are stone cold. “I had to get out of New York after an unpleasant divorce, riddled with drama. Starting fresh on the other side of the country was the only way to prevent me from doing something I might regret.” That sounds heavy. “It’s water under the bridge now. I’m ready to settle back in New York.”
I’m not the only one who’s experienced a string of bad relationships. The mighty Bryce Van Der Linden has also had his share.
He breaks the moody vibe. “I have a little something for you to thank you for this past week.”
He switches back to boardroom Bryce. He sounds so corporate, I assume he’s going to give me something practical like a new briefcase or a new iPad, but from the size of the small box, I know my assumptions are wrong.
I open the box to discover another box. After opening the second box, there’s a third one. I look at him, trying to understand the significance of his charade.
“It’s the same concept as the Russian Matryoshka doll,” he says. “The young woman who helped me at the store’s wrapping department assured me it was a winner with women.”
His personal shopper had nothing to do with this? He went to the shop and picked this out for me.
Myriad emotions collide in my head.
This man…
Like a kid on Christmas, I open box after box.
Bryce is amused as I frenetically try to get to the real gift.
“When did you have time to shop alone in Paris?”
