Chapter 27
Wesley
I shook my head, the notion so absurd it almost made me laugh.
"Impossible. You know Lance—the man's practically a monk. No scandals, no gossip, nothing. Half the board thinks he's gay because he's never been photographed with a woman in his life."
I drained my glass, the whiskey burning a path down my throat.
"Besides, why would he want her? I couldn't stand her for three years because she was so goddamn boring. You think my uncle, who probably hasn't felt a human emotion since 2008, would suddenly develop a taste for bland?"
Vanessa went still for a moment, then burst out laughing—that sharp, crystalline sound that always made me think of breaking glass.
"Fair point." She reached for the bottle between us, refilling both glasses with practiced ease. "So if it's not sex, what the hell makes her worth protecting? Her family's circling bankruptcy. No connections. No leverage. What does she have that I don't?"
I accepted the fresh drink, knocked it back in one go, and grimaced. "Fuck if I know. Credentials, maybe? I heard she's got dual degrees from Yale. Summa cum laude or some shit like that." I laughed, the sound hollow even to my own ears. "Three years together and I barely remembered her name half the time. Now suddenly she's got Lance's attention because of some fancy diploma?"
"That's the problem with women like her." Vanessa's voice dripped condescension as she took a delicate sip. "All flash, no substance. Degrees and titles don't mean shit in the real world. Men get bored when there's nothing underneath the packaging."
She set her glass down with deliberate care, then shifted forward, straddling my lap in one fluid motion. The sudden weight of her, the heat of her body pressing against mine, sent an immediate jolt through my system. "Women who only know how to please," she murmured, her breath warm against my jaw, "never keep a man's interest."
My hands found her waist automatically, fingers digging into the expensive fabric of her dress. She was right—she always was. There was nothing safe or predictable about Vanessa Holland. She was a rose with thorns sharp enough to draw blood, beautiful and dangerous in equal measure.
My body responded the way it always did when she was this close, desire coiling tight and insistent.
"Of course not," I managed, my voice rougher than I intended. "No woman knows how to hold attention like you do."
Her arms slid around my neck, nails scraping lightly against my nape in a way that made my breath catch. "So," she said, her tone shifting to something harder, more focused, "what are you going to do about your little ex-girlfriend problem? She stole my project. She humiliated you in front of the entire company." Her lips brushed the shell of my ear. "Are you really going to let that stand?"
I leaned back just enough to meet her eyes, my pulse hammering against my ribs. The fire building between us was almost unbearable, but beneath the heat was something colder—sharper. Revenge.
The thought of making Serena pay for today's humiliation sent a dark thrill racing through me. "Don't worry, baby. I'm working on it. But Lance is watching me now. I have to be smart. Subtle."
Vanessa's smile was slow and wicked, her fingers trailing down my chest. "Relax," she whispered, her voice silk and poison. "I've already thought of something. You won't have to lift a finger. And when we're done, that little bitch will regret ever stepping foot in Lawson Capital."
The promise in her words, the vicious satisfaction gleaming in her eyes—it was intoxicating.
My hands tightened on her hips, pulling her closer as my mouth found hers. The kiss was hungry, desperate, fueled by anger and lust and the heady rush of plotting someone's downfall. She responded with equal fervor, her fingers tangling in my hair as I mapped the curves of her body with greedy hands.
God, this was what I'd been missing. This fire. This edge. Serena had never made me feel like this—
A sharp knock on the door shattered the moment.
Vanessa pulled away with an irritated huff, sliding off my lap and smoothing her dress. "This better be important," she muttered, stalking to the door and yanking it open.
A man in an immaculate charcoal suit stood in the hallway, flanked by two servers wheeling a cart laden with bottles. I recognized him immediately—Anthony Mars, Felix's personal assistant. The kind of man who knew where all the bodies were buried and never asked questions.
"Good evening, Ms. Holland, Mr. Lawson." Anthony's smile was polite but knowing. "Mr. Felix Lawson sends his regards and asked me to deliver these personally to his favorite nephew."
Vanessa glanced back at me, one perfectly sculpted eyebrow arched. "See? At least one of your uncles knows how to treat you properly."
I managed a grin despite the residual frustration still thrumming through my veins. "Anthony, take a couple bottles for yourself. Consider it a tip."
"Very generous, sir, but unnecessary." Anthony gestured to one of the servers, who stepped forward with a velvet-lined case. "Mr. Lawson was distressed to hear about your… difficulties today. He wanted to ensure you had something appropriate to ease the burden."
He opened the case with a flourish, revealing a row of vintage bottles that probably cost more than most people's cars. "Château Pétrus, 1998. Mr. Lawson thought you might appreciate a taste of something truly exceptional."
My chest tightened—gratitude and resentment warring for dominance. Felix always knew how to make a gesture.
But before I could respond, Anthony turned to Vanessa, producing a sleek black card from his jacket pocket. "Ms. Holland, Mr. Felix also wanted to extend his sympathies for the… unfortunate situation with the Grey Estate project. He thought this might provide some consolation." He placed the card in her palm with a small bow. "Unlimited credit at Bergdorf Goodman, Saks, and a selection of other establishments. Please, indulge yourself."
Vanessa's eyes widened fractionally before her expression smoothed into pleased satisfaction. "How thoughtful."
I stared at the card, then at Anthony, then at the bottles of wine that probably cost more than my monthly "allowance" from Lance. Something hot and bitter twisted in my gut. "Lance gives me a ten-thousand-dollar monthly limit and threatens to freeze my accounts if I go over. And Felix just hands out unlimited credit like it's nothing."
"Mr. Lawson believes in rewarding loyalty," Anthony said smoothly. "And he's quite fond of you both."
I stood, crossing to where Vanessa held the card like it was made of gold. "Tell Felix I appreciate this. Seriously. And if he ever needs anything—anything at all—I've got his back."
Vanessa stepped closer, her shoulder brushing mine. "My family will remember this kindness as well. As far as the Hollands are concerned, Felix is the only Lawson worth knowing."
Anthony's smile didn't waver, but something flickered in his eyes—satisfaction, maybe, or calculation.
"You're both very kind, but I assure you, Mr. Lawson expects nothing in return. He simply couldn't stand by and watch Mr. Lance treat you so poorly." He inclined his head. "I'll leave you to enjoy your evening. Do let us know if you need anything else."