Chapter Seven: Rumors and Recognition
1551 Words
By the third day of the summit, Summer had learned three important things;
1. International diplomacy ran almost entirely on caffeine and suppressed exhaustion.
2. Wealthy executives traveled in groups like carefully dressed wolves.
3. The Fernandez family somehow occupied every room like they partially owned oxygen.
Unfortunately, the third observation was becoming increasingly difficult to ignore.
“You’re staring again,” Amara said flatly.
Summer nearly choked on her coffee.
“I am not.”
“You absolutely are.”
Summer immediately looked away from across the breakfast lounge.
Too late.
Amara followed her line of sight directly toward Levi Fernandez standing near one of the tall lake-facing windows speaking quietly with several summit officials.
Unfortunately for Summer’s dignity, he was difficult not to notice.
Today he wore a sharply tailored charcoal suit with a black tie loosened slightly at the collar, as though formalwear irritated him on principle. The dark colors contrasted against lightly sun-bronzed skin and sharp features that looked almost severe until he spoke. His dark hair was slightly longer than most executives would allow, pushed back carelessly like he had run a hand through it one too many times.
Everything about him looked composed. Not polished. Controlled.
Even standing still, he carried the unmistakable posture of someone trained for danger long before boardrooms and executive meetings became part of his life.
And somehow that quiet stillness drew more attention than louder men ever could.
Summer focused aggressively on stirring her coffee.
“I was observing.”
“That’s what emotionally compromised people say.”
Summer pointed at her accusingly. “You’ve become judgmental since the airport.”
Amara leaned back in her chair.
“No, I’ve become observant since you got trapped in an elevator with a former military commander.”
Summer froze.
Slowly asking, “…How do you know about that?”
“You came back looking psychologically rearranged.”
“I did not.”
“You stared at the ceiling for twenty minutes afterward.”
Summer opened her mouth. Closed it again. Fair enough.
Amara took a calm sip of tea.
“What did you two talk about?” Amara asked.
“Nothing.”
“That’s suspicious already.”
Summer sighed dramatically.
“We just talked.”
“About?”
Summer hesitated. The truth sounded strangely intimate when spoken aloud.
“Work. Pressure. Life.”
Amara stared at her over the rim of her cup.
“That’s significantly more emotional than I expected from Mr. Locked Door.”
Summer frowned slightly into her coffee.
“He’s not…”
She stopped.
Amara immediately narrowed her eyes.
“Oh no.”
“What?”
“You defended him before finishing the sentence.”
“I was choosing my wording carefully.”
“You’re becoming invested.”
Summer looked horrified.
“I absolutely am not.”
Amara looked unconvinced. Which was unfortunate because Summer herself was becoming slightly unconvinced too.
***
The morning sessions passed quickly.
Summer participated in two policy discussions and one youth leadership forum before finally escaping into one of the quieter hotel courtyards between meetings.
The courtyard overlooked the lake, tucked behind the main conference wing where fewer delegates wandered.
Peaceful. Cold. Silent. Exactly what she needed.
Summer sat near the fountain reviewing notes for her closing remarks. Or at least attempting to. Unfortunately her concentration kept drifting. Specifically toward that elevator conversation, those calm dark eyes, and a voice saying her name quietly in confined spaces.
Deeply inconvenient.
“You look troubled.”
Summer looked up immediately.
Lyla Fernandez stood nearby holding a tablet and coffee cup. Elegant as always. Sharp-eyed as ever.
Unlike her brothers, Lyla didn’t command attention through intimidation.
She commanded it through certainty.
Summer straightened slightly.
“Do I?”
“A little.”
Lyla approached calmly.
“May I?”
Summer nodded toward the empty chair beside her.
“Of course.”
Lyla sat gracefully, crossing one leg over the other.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Oddly, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable.
Lyla studied people the same way Levi did.
Quietly. Carefully.
Just less guarded about it.
Finally she said:
“My brother spoke to you longer than five minutes yesterday.”
Summer blinked.
“That sounds concerning.”
“It is.”
Summer laughed softly.
Lyla smiled faintly into her coffee.
“Levi dislikes conferences.”
“I noticed.”
“He dislikes most things involving large groups of people.”
“That also feels noticeable.”
Lyla’s gaze drifted toward the lake.
“He used to be different.”
The words were quiet. Matter-of-fact.
Not dramatic.
Some instinct told Summer not to interrupt.
“He was easier before the military,” Lyla continued calmly. “Then easier again after Sophie was born.”
“Sophie?”
“Our youngest sister.”
Something softened very slightly in Lyla’s expression.
“Levi practically raised her when our parents traveled.”
Summer found herself smiling faintly.
That… strangely made sense.
Lyla glanced sideways at her.
“You’re curious about him.”
Straight to the point.
Summer nearly laughed from the accuracy of it.
“A little.”
“That’s dangerous.”
Summer tilted her head slightly.
“You sound exactly like Amara.”
“That should concern you too.”
Summer smiled despite herself.
Lyla studied her quietly for another moment before speaking again.
“You make him less tired.”
Summer froze slightly.
The sentence landed unexpectedly hard.
Before she could respond, Lyla stood smoothly.
“I should save you from overthinking that statement,” she said calmly.
Too late.
Summer watched her leave across the courtyard feeling strangely unsettled. Because somewhere beneath the elegance and composure, Lyla had sounded serious.
***
That evening, the summit hosted a private networking dinner for keynote speakers and executive delegates.
Summer strongly considered faking illness.
Unfortunately Amara saw through her immediately.
“You’re going.”
“I’m exhausted.”
“You’re always exhausted.”
“I could develop something contagious.”
“You’re not escaping diplomacy because social interaction scares you.”
Summer glared weakly while adjusting her earrings in the mirror.
The dinner dress she finally chose was elegant without trying too hard deep emerald silk, long flowing sleeves, a soft open neckline, and delicate gold jewelry resting against warm brown skin.
The color made her dark curls stand out beautifully where they fell loosely over one shoulder, softer than her usual professional styling.
Professional enough for diplomacy. Soft enough to still feel like herself.
Amara appeared behind her in the mirror.
Then paused.
“…Okay wow.”
Summer blinked.
“What?”
“You look powerful.”
Summer snorted softly. “That feels fake.”
“No,” Amara said honestly. “You just forget sometimes.”
Amara herself looked stunning tonight in a fitted black satin jumpsuit paired with sharp gold heels and statement earrings. Her makeup was elegant but bold enough to match her personality, and together they looked less like overwhelmed NGO founders and more like women who belonged in rooms full of ministers and executives.
The realization unsettled Summer slightly.
***
The private dining hall was breathtaking in the way only absurd wealth could achieve.
Crystal chandeliers reflected warm golden light across polished marble floors while soft classical music drifted through the room. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the dark lake outside where Geneva shimmered beneath the night sky.
Delegates mingled beneath low conversation and expensive perfume.
Summer smiled politely through introductions and conversations she would later forget entirely.
Amara remained beside her most of the evening, occasionally rescuing her from painfully boring executives with strategic interruptions.
Until—
“You clean up well.”
Summer turned immediately.
Lione stood beside them holding a champagne glass and looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Tonight he wore a midnight-blue suit without a tie, the top buttons of his shirt undone just enough to suggest intentional rebellion against formality. Unlike Levi’s restrained presence, Lione occupied attention easily. Confident smile. Sharp eyes. Dangerous levels of charisma.
Summer sighed.
“Do you practice sounding insufferable?”
“Natural talent.”
“Tragic.”
Lione grinned.
Amara looked unimpressed.
“I still don’t like you.”
“That hurts,” Lione replied smoothly. “We’ve grown so much together.”
“We met three days ago.”
“And yet the connection feels eternal.”
Summer nearly laughed.
Then Lione’s attention shifted over her shoulder suddenly.
Summer turned slightly.
Levi had entered the room.
And unfortunately, Amara was right. He did feel different tonight.
He wore an all-black suit that made him stand out despite its simplicity, broad shoulders cutting sharply through the crowd as conversations subtly quieted around him. The darker colors made his features seem sharper somehow—strong jaw, unreadable dark eyes, composed expression untouched by the atmosphere around him.
People greeted him carefully as he moved through the room. Important people. Powerful people.
Yet Levi looked detached from all of it. Like a man physically present but mentally elsewhere.
Then his eyes lifted. And found Summer immediately. No hesitation. No searching. Just direct recognition across a crowded room.
Something strange tightened briefly in her chest.
Beside her, Amara noticed too. Her eyes narrowed immediately.
“Absolutely not,” she muttered.
Lione looked delighted now.
“This summit just became entertaining.”
Summer immediately regretted existing near this family.
- Writer
