Chapter Five: Things Left Unsaid
1312 Words
Summer woke up the next morning to the sound of Amara aggressively knocking on the connecting suite door.
“Rise and shine, diplomat Barbie.”
Summer groaned into her pillow.
“I’m revoking your speaking privileges.”
“You have twenty minutes before breakfast.”
“That’s not enough time to become emotionally stable.”
Amara opened the door anyway.
Summer squinted toward the light spilling in from the other room.
Amara stood there already fully dressed and professionally intimidating.
“How are you functioning?” Summer muttered.
“Discipline.”
“Couldn’t be me.”
Amara tossed a folder onto the bed.
“Today’s schedule.”
Summer reached for it lazily before freezing halfway through.
Her eyes widened.
“You did not tell me I’m moderating the youth policy breakout session.”
“It was in your email.”
“I don’t read emails when I’m emotionally vulnerable.”
“That explains your entire lifestyle.”
Summer collapsed backward dramatically.
“Geneva is trying to kill me.”
Amara sat on the edge of the bed, watching her quietly for a moment.
Then: “You handled yourself well yesterday.”
Summer blinked up at the ceiling.
“At the panel?”
“At the reception.”
Summer frowned slightly.
“That feels less professional.”
Amara shrugged. “Still true.”
A pause.
Then:
“And the Fernandez brothers are definitely dangerous.”
Summer laughed tiredly.
“You say that like they’re organized crime.”
Amara gave her a flat look.
“We don’t know that they’re not.”
***
By midmorning, the summit had fully settled into rhythm.
Conversations overlapped constantly through the conference halls; policy debates, media interviews, strategic networking, carefully rehearsed diplomacy.
Summer moved through it all with practiced warmth. Smile. Handshake. Conversation. Panel discussion. Repeat.
It was exhausting.
But she loved it too.
Because beneath all the polished speeches and political language, there were moments where real change felt possible.
And those moments mattered.
The youth policy breakout session was held in one of the smaller conference halls overlooking the lake.
Smaller, unfortunately, still meant nearly a hundred people.
Summer adjusted the microphone slightly.
“Good morning everyone,” she began warmly. “Thank you for joining us despite the fact that it’s painfully early.”
Soft laughter moved through the room instantly.
Good. That helped.
Summer relaxed slightly into the discussion as delegates began speaking about climate education, youth inclusion, funding accessibility, and grassroots sustainability initiatives.
This part came naturally to her. Not because she was the smartest person in the room. But because she understood people.
She knew how to make conversations feel less intimidating. How to make nervous speakers feel heard. How to redirect tension without embarrassing anyone.
It was a skill most diplomats spent years trying to learn.
Across the back of the room, Levi Fernandez watched quietly.
He had entered halfway through intending only to briefly observe the session before leaving for another meeting.
Instead, he stayed.
Because Summer Knightly somehow managed to hold an entire room’s attention without demanding it.
No performance. No forced authority. Just presence.
Levi found that increasingly dangerous.
***
The session ended nearly two hours later.
Summer was packing away documents when someone approached beside her.
“You’re good at that.”
She looked up.
Levi.
Again.
For a ridiculous second, her heartbeat reacted before her brain did.
Annoying.
Summer slid another folder into her bag casually.
“At talking?”
“At making people comfortable.”
His tone remained calm as always.
But unlike most compliments Summer received at conferences, this one didn’t sound rehearsed. It sounded observational. Which somehow mattered more.
Summer smiled lightly.
“That’s usually the goal.”
Levi nodded once.
A brief silence settled between them.
Not awkward exactly. Just quiet.
Then Summer tilted her head slightly.
“You watched the whole session?”
“I was supposed to leave after ten minutes.”
“But?”
His gaze met hers steadily.
“You made good points.”
Something about that answer unexpectedly pleased her.
Which was unfortunate.
Summer zipped her bag closed quickly.
“Well,” she replied lightly, “you survived two hours of youth policy discussions. That’s impressive.”
A faint shift touched the corner of his mouth.
Again— not quite a smile.
But close enough to count.
“I’ve survived worse.”
The words were simple. Too simple. Something underneath them felt heavier than the conversation itself.
Summer noticed immediately.
And once again, she had the strange feeling that Levi Fernandez carried silence the way other people carried luggage. Carefully. Constantly. Everywhere.
***
By evening, the summit hosted another networking reception.
Summer had already decided she hated networking receptions.
Too many people pretending conversations were casual while secretly calculating usefulness.
She stood near one of the drink tables contemplating escape when Amara appeared beside her.
“You’ve been adopted.”
Summer blinked. “What?”
Amara gestured subtly across the room.
The Fernandez siblings had arrived.
And unfortunately, they were impossible to ignore.
Lione entered first looking entirely too comfortable in expensive environments.
Behind him came a woman Summer immediately recognized as Lyla Fernandez from summit materials. Elegant. Sharp-eyed. Beautiful in an intimidating way.
Beside her walked another man who resembled the brothers enough to be unmistakably related, though his expression appeared calmer, easier.
Lione spotted Summer instantly.
Which felt deeply threatening.
“Oh no,” Summer muttered.
Too late.
The siblings approached smoothly through the crowd.
Lione stopped directly in front of her looking entirely too pleased with himself.
“Sunshine diplomat.”
Summer stared. “That cannot become my nickname.”
“I disagree.”
Amara looked personally offended on Summer’s behalf.
Lyla stepped forward before the argument could continue.
“You must be Summer Knightly.”
Her voice was composed and elegant, but warmer than Summer expected.
Summer smiled politely.
“And you’re Lyla Fernandez.”
Lyla’s gaze sharpened slightly in approval.
“You’ve done your research.”
“Amara made me.”
“A wise woman.”
“I’ve been saying that,” Amara muttered.
The calmer brother stepped forward next.
“Lione complains loudly enough that we already know who you are,” he said smoothly.
Lione looked offended. “That sounds insulting.”
“It was.”
Summer laughed softly before the man offered his hand.
“Lione Fernandez,” he said.
Summer blinked.
Then stared at him.
The man paused.
“…I’m kidding.”
Lione looked horrified. “Identity theft within family boundaries is unacceptable.”
Summer laughed harder this time.
The man smiled warmly.
“Lione’s twin. Lione.”
Summer blinked again.
“No wait—”
“Luca,” Lyla corrected tiredly.
“Thank God,” Summer breathed.
Luca looked deeply amused now.
And somehow that single moment eased some invisible tension around the group entirely.
Except for Levi.
Summer noticed immediately that while the others naturally occupied social space, Levi remained slightly apart even standing beside them.
Watching more than participating.
Like someone accustomed to observing rooms instead of relaxing in them.
Lyla noticed Summer noticing.
Interesting.
***
Later that night, after the reception finally ended, Summer stood waiting near the elevators with aching feet and social exhaustion threatening to physically consume her.
The elevator doors opened.
Levi stood inside alone. Of course he did.
Summer hesitated only briefly before stepping inside.
The doors closed softly behind her.
Silence.
Comfortable for him. Slightly dangerous for her.
“You disappeared early,” she said eventually.
Levi leaned lightly against the elevator wall.
“So did you.”
“I escaped strategically.”
“That sounds professionally approved.”
Summer smiled faintly.
The elevator continued upward.
Then suddenly the lights flickered once.
The elevator stopped.
Summer blinked.
A pause.
Then: “Oh no.”
Levi sighed softly beside her.
Not panicked. Just tired in advance. Which somehow felt worse.
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