What We Left in the Dark

Four

Thursday morning arrives, casting a serene light through the high windows of West and Sullivan as I enter earlier than usual. The office is quiet at this hour, the bustling energy of the day yet to begin, offering a moment of calm to gather my thoughts. I head towards Naomi's desk, greeted by the reassuring sight of our efficient receptionist.

"Good morning, Naomi. Could you please direct Luca Ricci to the conference room when he arrives? And let's ensure we have fresh coffee and water ready," I say, smoothing the front of my blazer, my voice carrying a hint of the day's significance.

"Absolutely, Catalina. I'll take care of everything," Naomi replies with a bright, capable smile.

"Thanks, Naomi. I appreciate it," I respond, mirroring her smile, grateful for her steadfast support.

As 10 AM nears, the intercom buzzes softly, Naomi's voice crisp and clear: "Catalina, Luca Ricci is here for your meeting."

"Thank you, Naomi. Please send him in," I reply, my voice calm but my heart quickening with anticipation.

"Alright, he's on his way up now," she confirms and signs off.

I take a deep breath, using the quiet moments to align my papers meticulously on the conference table, setting a tone of order and readiness. As the door opens, Luca enters—tall, confident, with a warm smile that doesn't quite mask the keen sharpness of his gaze. His presence fills the room, and his resemblance to Giancarlo is uncanny, momentarily catching me off guard. However, I quickly gather myself, extending a hand with composed professionalism.

"Mr. Ricci, welcome to West and Sullivan. It's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Catalina Moreno."

"Thank you, Ms. Moreno, it's good to meet you too. I've heard much about your firm's expertise," Luca replies, his handshake firm, lingering slightly, suggesting a warmth that extends beyond mere professional courtesy.

"Please, have a seat," I gesture to the chair across from mine at the table. As we both settle, I focus on maintaining a poised demeanor, despite the subtle energy that passed between us during our handshake.

"I read in your intake file that you have a co-founder. They were not able to join us?" I inquire, wanting to cement my understanding of the structure of the company.

He nods, digesting my light question. "I typically handle higher-level operations and external connections. He manages internal happenings. So, if you choose to take us as a client, you'd be working with me mostly." He says, a glint in his eyes revealing that he may be eager to have one-on-one time with me.

I nod, choosing not to take that conversation down an easily distractible route. Our discussion delves deep into the specifics of his startup—its business model, anticipated legal challenges, and the comprehensive services our firm offers. Luca is not only articulate but also passionate, his enthusiasm for the project making the conversation both engaging and substantial.

They've been operating for four years now, having taken the first two years to cement their business model. Now, they've grown into a full-scale community serving their customers with multiple products. Their accomplishments are impressive, and their financial backing by significant figures tells me they have a reliable setup.

Every so often, a gesture or a turn of phrase reminiscent of Giancarlo sends a shiver of distraction through me. Yet, I manage to navigate our conversation with careful professionalism, steering clear of personal tinges I pray that only I am aware of that could complicate the relationship we are here to build.

As the meeting progresses, I am impressed not only by Luca's clear vision but also by his perceptive glances that seem to probe gently at the formal facade we maintain. "Thank you for laying out your plans so clearly, Mr. Ricci," I acknowledge his preparation, the charged air between us carefully contained within the bounds of our professional roles. "I think what you envision for your next steps is achievable, and our firm would be well-equipped to help Gilded moving forward."

"That sounds excellent, Ms. Moreno," Luca agrees with a nod, his eyes meeting mine briefly with an intensity that hints at layers yet to be explored. "I'm glad we could meet today. Your insights have been invaluable."

He taps the table lightly with his fingers, not reconnecting our gazes.

"I am impressed with the expertise you have accrued in such a short time. You are quite young, no?"

I pretend not to be phased by his slightly inappropriate question and prepare to lay down a professional yet firm response.

"My age is not an indication of my experience or ability, Mr. Ricci."

He nods, seemingly satisfied with my answer before rising from his seat.

We exchange pleasantries as the meeting concludes, and the handshake we share as I escort him to the door lingers once more—a mutual recognition of a connection, deliberately unspoken. "Someone will be in touch soon with the next steps," I assure him, feeling a mix of relief and a curious sense of loss as he turns to leave.

"Someone?" He pries. "You mean, potentially not you?"

I try to rein in my look of surprise at his question. Before I can respond, he ends the inquiry.

"Thank you, Catalina. I appreciate your time today," he says, his parting glance leaving a warm trail as he exits the conference room.

Watching Luca walk away, I am struck by a mix of relief and satisfaction. The meeting was undeniably productive and professional, yet beneath the surface, there lingered an unexplored current of something more—palpable, yet left unaddressed.

Hours later, back in the quiet of my living room, I try to shake off the residual tension. My attempt to relax is interrupted when my phone buzzes with an email from Luca. His message brings me back to the reality of our professional undertaking but carries an undertone of urgency that piques my curiosity.

"Dear Catalina," the message reads, "Thank you for a very productive meeting today. I realized after leaving your office that I omitted some crucial details that could impact our discussion and the legal strategy moving forward. Could you please give me a call at your earliest convenience? I apologize for the oversight and appreciate your understanding."

The calm of the evening is now tinged with anticipation. I quickly draft a response, my mind alert to the potential implications of what was missed.

"Hello Luca, Thank you for reaching out. It's not uncommon for details to slip through in our initial discussions. I'm available to talk now if you are free. I look forward to helping you further. Best regards, Catalina"

As I send off the email, I place the phone back on the table, my gaze lingering on the device. The quiet of the room feels more charged now, every tick of the clock amplified as I wait for his response. Despite my best efforts to relax, the potential implications of what was missed in our discussion keep playing back in my mind, mixing with the unspoken undercurrents that had flowed between us earlier.

The phone vibrates again, startling me from my reverie. It's Luca, calling sooner than I expected. I steady my breath, preparing to switch back into professional mode as I answer, ready to navigate whatever this call may bring.