“That would be... incredible.”
I reached into my blazer pocket, pulling out my card case. My fingers trembled slightly as I handed him a business card. “My home phone is on the back.”
Patrick took the card, studying it for a moment before tucking it securely into his breast pocket, right over his heart.
“I’ll reach out to him,” he promised, his gaze holding mine. “And then I’ll let you know what he says.”
It was a business offer, but it felt like a lifeline. A promise of future contact. An excuse to talk again.
He checked his watch, a battered vintage piece that contrasted with his crisp cuffs. “I’m afraid I have a meeting, but I hope I’ll see you around.”
“Me too, and thank you,” I said, and I meant it for more than just the business lead.
“I’ll be in touch, Theresa Carideo.”
He stepped aside to let me pass. As I walked away, I could feel his eyes on me. I didn’t look behind me, but strangely enough, this didn’t feel like walking away from something.
I felt like I was walking toward something.
The networking lunch was as exhausting as I’d expected. I smiled and made small talk and deflected questions about “the transition” at CarideoTech. Vivian Keller ran interference when needed, steering conversation away from Marco.
Arthur showed up halfway through the main course. He looked over the room, his eyes hunting for key contacts to work. I watched his gaze sweep past my table, then snapping back on me, his expression flickering with surprise before he caught himself.
He headed straight towards us.
“Theresa.” His smile was practiced, but I caught the tightness around his eyes. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Arthur. Enjoying the conference?” I kept my voice pleasant.
“Very informative.” His gaze dropped to my badge, and I saw the moment he registered the CEO title. His jaw tightened. “I see you’re... making a statement.”
“I’m representing CarideoTech,” I said evenly.
He pulled out the empty chair beside me without asking. “Of course, of course. Though I wonder if we might have a word after lunch? About the board presentation. There aresome... considerations we should discuss. We want things to go smoothly.”
It wasn’t a request. It was a reminder that he still had power, still had leverage. That showing up at this conference didn’t change the game being played back home.
“Of course,” I said. “I’ll find you after.”
He nodded, satisfied that he’d reasserted some control, and turned to impress the person on his other side—someone from a major venture capital firm, I noticed. Already working his angles.
I felt Vivian’s questioning glance but kept my expression neutral. This was Arthur’s play—showing up here, sitting beside me, reminding everyone at this table that he was still a power player at CarideoTech. That I might be the grieving widow with the title, but he was the one with the real influence.
Fine. Let him play. I didn’t have time. I had my own game to run.
I avoided Arthur for the rest of the afternoon, dodging through corridors like a fugitive. I checked the schedule: a panel on FDA regulatory pathways in the Cypress Room. Useful, critical even, but mostly it was a place to hide where Arthur Vance wasn’t.
As I approached the double doors, I saw a flash of copper-gold hair.
Patrick.
He was walking into the same session, moving with that loose-limbed, athletic grace that made him stand out in a sea of stiff suits.
I could have turned around. I could have gone to the coffee bar, or back to my room. But my feet made the decision before my brain could catch up. I wanted to see him again. I needed that spark, that strange, electric current that made me feel like I wasn’t just a grieving widow but a living, breathing woman.
I slipped into the room just as the moderator began introductions. It was crowded, maybe sixty people, but I spotted him instantly near the middle. I took a seat two rows back, slightly to the left, where I had a clear view of his profile.
I tried to focus on the discussion about 510(k) clearances, I really did. But my eyes kept drifting.
