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Instantly silence descends over the room, and since mere moments ago everybody was clamoring to be heard or whispering urgently to the person next to him, the silence is pretty damned significant. Nine of the eleven men in the room look appalled. One looks like he’s about to go apoplectic, and given that’s he’s the one to whom my negation was directed, I suppose it makes sense for him to be more in shock than the others even though I don’t have the slightest fucking idea in the world why anyone is shocked in the first place unless this is some backward boys club of a group or something and they can’t believe a woman just spoke.
The only man who doesn’t appear appalled is Signor Giordano. Giordano has a faintly amused expression on his face. I can’t tell if that reflects positive feelings toward me or negative feelings. Hell, I can’t figure anything out at all.
“What do you mean no?” the apoplectic guy says. His name is Machiel Janssens. He’s some sort of EU official charged with business development or commerce regulations or something else. “Explain yourself!”
Well, in for a penny, in for a pound. “Nois a complete sentence, Mr. Janssens. We won’t be participating in this program.”
Appalled doesn’t even begin to do the situation justice now. At least six of the men are relieved. I can see that. If Aiden’s organization doesn’t involve itself in this proposed program, they won’t have to. I can see that they, too, have concerns about the program. They lack the clout necessary to refuse, but Aiden doesn’t. They’re still appalled. Giordani is more than just a little amused now, and I’m pretty sure I sense some admiration.
“I want to speak to Aiden Vipera!” Janssens demands bitterly. “Not thisstomme kut!”
There are a few smiles at his outburst. They disappear and there are more looks at admiration when I say, “I speak a little Dutch, Mr. Janssens, and while an argument could be made that I’m a cunt, I am most definitely not astupidcunt. The answer is no and after your outburst, that no is final.”
“Aiden Vipera!” Janssens shouts as he stands. He looks like he’s going to have a seizure.
“Miss Patterson speaks for Aiden and the entire Vipera Family, Mr. Janssens,” Giordani says, standing, “and if you have concerns with her performance of that duty, you’re welcome to send your concerns to Mr. Vipera. That is, if you believe it makes sense to suggest to a man like Aiden Vipera that his judgement was not up to the task of choosing a representative, you are welcome to send your concerns. Alternatively, you might read over the proposed agreements, focusing on Section 214, Subsections A through H. Perhaps you might even propose a new agreement after considering termination of whoever it is in your department who put those words in the agreement in the first place.”
I’m impressed. When he looked over my notes on the plane ride over here, I didn’t think he paid particular attention to the problems I had with the regulatory tone of that part of the contract.
The wording itself isn’t as much a problem as what I feel lies behind the surface of the wording. Essentially, it’s an attempt to ensure that the EU’s economic commission retains executive power over who gets to benefit from this program and to what extent. That’s typical business conniving, and haggling through it should resolve everything, but what concerns me is the thought that since this is a government we’re negotiating with and not a business, they might genuinely intend to use this as a way to take direct control over the businesses who elect to participate.
When Jannsens cuts off and shouts down another of the businesspeople who bring up a concern over the wording, I know for sure that he’s here to bully people into agreeing with something that is a clear power grab by the EU and not an actual attempt at cooperation. So instead of trying to work out the problems, I just refuse.
“I’m glad you’re with the family,” Mr. Giordani mentions to me as we pull into the private airfield, one of many which Aiden’s family owns. “I would have obtained the same result as you, but it would have taken me days longer. There’s something to be said about a young woman with the fortitude to stand up to powerful men. In this part of the world, that kind of woman is still rare, as you no doubt could tell by the reactions of everyone present.”
“Thank you, Mr. Giordani,” I reply.
“Romeo, please,” he replies. “After that performance, you’ve more than earned the right to use my first name.”
I smile and say, “Well, if I get to call you Romeo, then I’m Brooke.”
He returns my smile. “Thank you, Brooke.”
We board the plane, another massive Bombardier 7500, and soon, we’re on our way back to the estate.
On the way home, I look at the beautiful landscape that passes below me and think that the past few days were actually very fun, and not only because I got to do something very helpful and useful for Aiden. When we weren’t in meetings, we actually got to see a lot of Switzerland.
From beautiful alpine snowcaps to bright, colorful meadows full of flowers to entire towns dating from back to the Renaissance and maybe even earlier to people wearing everything from modern Italian business suits to old-school handwoven dresses, Switzerland is a paradise in the old-school sense of the term.
Europe is beautiful. While aspects of the old-world traditional life they lead here are troublesome, like the belief that women should be subservient to men, the beauty and the timelessness of the landscape is something I could absolutely get used to.
I think back to my old life in the United States and wonder that I can already think of it as my old life. What I think of as my life now is the life I lead here in Europe with Aiden.
When we finally land at the estate, my first thought is that I’m happy to be home.
* * *
Aiden
The nursery rhyme is horrible. It feels like something a kid might write as an assignment in high school English. Actually, I’m not even convinced it rises to high school level. On the other hand, it might very well be how something might look if real information were included in an unlikely place.
In days of yore, when the world was young and free,
A legend spoke of a dragon yet to be.
From the mists of time, a prophecy arose,
Of a chosen one, that only fate knows.
