She leaned in before Bea could react, brushing one cheek, then the other, hands clasped like they were already old friends.
Bea blinked. Her brain stalled. What was the protocol here? Should she curtsy?
“I’m Selene Griffin,” the woman said. Oh.Oh.
Rafael’s mother.
“It’s…really nice to meet you, Mrs. Griffin.”
“Selene,” she corrected, eyes twinkling. “Mrs. Griffinmakes me sound like a banker’s wife. I married a force of nature.”
Said force of nature arrived. Rafael’s father was tall, commanding, in a beige suit he managed to carry like armor, not flair. Cream didn’t soften him, it dared you to underestimate him.
She remembered him from IGNITE, the Griffin Ventures invitational where Bea’s group and nine others had been selected to present live in front of a panel of venture partners. The memory of that experience still thrilled her.
“Leon,” he said, voice gravelly, like his son’s. He extended a hand, which she took. “We’ve heard a lot about you.”
From who? Why? Was this a setup? Was she about to be politely dismantled?
“From Nico’s parents,” Selene clarified immediately, blissfully unaware of her internal spiral. “They’reobsessedwith you. I was fully expecting wings and a halo.”
A real laugh escaped Bea, startled and unguarded. “Nico does most of the work. I just reward him with snacks, and threaten him with boarding school.”
“Wellhesays you’re ‘pretty dope.’” Leon’s smile tugged at the corners, like the phrase amused him as much as the boy who said it.
“His mother’s convinced you’re the only reason she hasn’t strangled him over his grades,” Selene added, with that twinkle in her eye.
She’d practiced for scrutiny—angles of attack, veiled insults, condescension. Praise required a finer balance: accept it, don’t flinch, and for goodness’ sake don’t beam like a Labrador.
Thankfully, Leon spoke. “You presented at IGNITE last year.”
“I did,” Bea said. “It was such a great opportunity.”
“I remember. You spoke clearly. Captured the room. Your group placed third.”
“Thank you,” she managed, surprised by the sincerity and specificity of his praise. “We all did the work together, I just happened to be holding the mic.”
Leon nodded. He looked like he wanted to say more, but excused himself as he was pulled into another conversation.
“You’re with Gage,” Selene said once they were alone. “The pressure this weekend must be immense.”
Bea risked a glance, half anticipating amusement of the voyeuristic variety. What she found instead was…understanding. “Honestly, it is,” she admitted, still not quite sure if she should say it out loud.
“I understand. I’ve only been in this world for a little over a decade.” Selene’s voice was low and wry. “It takes some getting used to.”
Bea recalled the Griffin Ventures case study from one of her classes last year. They’d started as a modest construction company, then, after securing Duret Bank as a backer, grew fast and scaled faster. The company’s billion-dollar valuation hadn’t come until Rafael’s first year at St. Ives. Which meant the present set of Griffins had lived the rise.
“Have you gotten used to it?” Bea asked.
“Not entirely. But I’ve learned how to walk through it without setting the place on fire.”
Bea huffed a laugh. “My mother would say that’s a waste of good fire.”
Selene turned to her fully then. “Korean?”
Bea nodded. “And extremely skilled at silent judgment.”
“Greek,” Selene said, lifting her glass. “We do loud judgment. With olive oil.”
