Tonight is ceremonial. Stay gracious. Stay gracious. The words echoed in her head as she watched Graham walk away, immediately drawn into conversation with a cluster of investors. The same investors who had barely glanced at her.
She thought of her father who had taught her Arabic along with the importance of dignity. He'd grown up watching his own parents fight for basic respect. Now, here she was, decades later, still fighting that same battle in a designer dress. A young employee approached, clipboard in hand. Miss Albright, where would you like the signing ceremony photographs taken?
Before Nia could answer, Graham called out from across the room. We'll set up by the main stage. I've already discussed it with the event team. The employee hurried away. Nia watched as Graham huddled with Omar and Tariq near the bar, their heads bent together in discussion.
No one had thought to include her in planning the signing ceremony for her own company's landmark deal. She remembered the day she'd founded Aegis, working from a tiny office in her old neighborhood. She'd seen too many families sick from contaminated water, too many communities destroyed by failed infrastructure. She'd built this company to protect people, not to serve as window dressing for wealthy men's schemes. Movement caught her eye.
Omar and Tariq were drifting toward the champagne terrace, crystal glasses in hand. Their expressions, as they glanced her way, held something that made her skin prickle. Not hatred or even dislike, but something almost worse. Amusement, as if she were a child playing at business. She watched Graham join them briefly, then leave with a satisfied nod.
Whatever they'd discussed, they hadn't wanted her to hear it. The champagne terrace doors stood open to the warm evening air. Omar and Tariq stood framed in the doorway, backlit by garden lights. Their conversation dropped to low murmurs as others passed, but Nia could see Tariq's smirk, could read the dismissal in Omar's posture. She thought of every board meeting where her expertise had been questioned, every conference where she'd been mistaken for support staff, every donor who'd asked to speak to her boss, assuming the black woman couldn't possibly be in charge.
Her father's voice echoed in her memory. "Your dignity is not negotiable. " Nia straightened her spine, lifted her chin, and moved purposefully toward the terrace. As she approached, she heard their voices shift to Arabic, followed by soft laughter that made her blood run cold. She kept walking, each step precise and measured. The men's backs were to her as their conversation continued.
Their amusement clear even in the foreign tongue. They clearly felt safe in their private joke, certain she couldn't understand. She was close enough now to hear every word. The warm evening air carried Omar and Tariq's voices across the terrace. Their Arabic flowed smooth and practiced, wrapped in the confidence of men certain they couldn't be understood.
"She does photograph beautifully," Omar said in Arabic, swirling his champagne. "The press loves a good story. " Tariq's laugh was sharp and dismissive. "Indeed, a perfect face for the annual report. Though someone should tell her to smile more. She looks too serious for decoration.
Nia stood perfectly still, her hands relaxed at her sides. Other guests milled nearby, catching only the tone of casual conversation and occasional chuckles. A server passed with fresh drinks. The fountain burbled in the garden below. "The board chairman assures me she'll fulfill her ceremonial duties gracefully. " Omar continued, his voice dropping lower.
"After that, the serious men can begin their work. " "Did you see how she tried to discuss technical specifications earlier? " Tariq shook his head. "As if she understands the real mechanics of these deals. But Vale has everything arranged. Once the symbolic face has finished smiling for the cameras, management will become much simpler. " Omar nodded, setting his glass on the stone balustrade. "The company needs experienced guidance, not feel-good stories.