Chapter 90
Lance
"Because I'll tell you what I do remember," Arthur continued, his voice taking on an edge. "I remember you spending those three years chasing after the Holland girl. Vanessa, isn't it? The one you're with now?" He leaned forward. "Did you really think I didn't notice? That I'm so old and senile I can't see what's happening in my own family?"
"I never—"
"You never thought about that girl unless she was convenient," Arthur said bluntly. "And now that she's left you, now that she's moved on, suddenly you remember she existed? Suddenly you care?" He shook his head. "If someone took her from you, Wesley, it's because you made it very easy for them to do so."
Wesley sat down heavily, his face pale, his earlier conviction crumbling under Arthur's assessment.
Felix moved quickly, stepping in before Wesley could completely fall apart. He placed a hand on Wesley's shoulder—supportive, sympathetic—and turned to Arthur with an expression of measured concern.
"Arthur, you make an excellent point," Felix said smoothly. "Wesley was careless with his relationship. That's clear. But—" he paused meaningfully, "—there's still the question of optics. Lance, as Wesley's uncle and guardian, spending time with Wesley's ex-girlfriend... regardless of the truth of the situation, it doesn't look good."
Arthur's expression sobered slightly. "Optics."
"Exactly." Felix gestured at the photographs. "And it's not just dinner, apparently. I've heard Miss Vance actually stayed at Lance's home overnight." He paused, letting that sink in before adding, "And there are rumors you've been providing her with financial support. Substantial financial support."
The temperature in the room shifted. Arthur's eyes moved to me, sharp and assessing now.
"Is that true, Lance?"
I met his gaze directly. "She had too much to drink. She needed a safe place to stay. We slept in separate rooms. As for financial support, I've never given her any. She's a talented employee who earned a promotion based on merit. Nothing more."
Arthur held my gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "That sounds like you. Responsible. Appropriate." He looked back at Felix. "I don't see the problem."
"The problem," Felix said carefully, "isn't what actually happened. It's what people will think happened. Perception matters in our industry. Lance's reputation for absolute propriety is part of what makes clients trust him. Trust Lawson Corp." He spread his hands. "I'm just concerned about protecting that."
Arthur leaned back in his chair, considering. "You're not wrong about perception. The financial world runs on reputation as much as results."
"And there's the family aspect," Felix added, his voice taking on a note of gentle concern that made my skin crawl. "Wesley's parents—Lance's own brother and sister-in-law—they entrusted Wesley to Lance's care before they died. Asked him specifically to look after their son. Having Lance involved with Wesley's ex-girlfriend, even innocently..." He trailed off meaningfully.
Wesley looked up at that, something like hope flickering across his face.
Felix had just invoked the memory of Wesley's dead parents. The guilt card. The one obligation Arthur knew I took seriously.
And from the way Arthur's expression was shifting, it was working.
"That is a consideration," Arthur said slowly. He looked at me. "Lance, you know I trust your judgment. Your integrity. But Felix raises valid points about appearances. About family obligations."
I could feel the trap closing. Could see exactly where this was going.
"Which is why," Arthur continued, his tone becoming more decisive, "I think it's more important than ever that we address your own romantic situation. Get ahead of any gossip before it starts."
Here it comes.
"You remember David Lloyd?" Arthur asked. "Eleanor's brother. We've been friends for years. His daughter, Isabella—brilliant young woman, just started at the family law firm. He's been suggesting we arrange a dinner. Let you two meet."
My jaw tightened. "Arthur—"
Eleanor shifted in her seat, her voice cutting in with quiet firmness. "I've already told David this isn't a good idea. Lance doesn't need us interfering in his personal life."
Arthur waved a dismissive hand, a slight smile playing at his lips. "Eleanor, we've had this conversation a hundred times. This isn't me pushing. David brought it up himself just this evening. It's his idea, not mine." He looked back at me. "Isabella's agreed. She's willing to meet you tomorrow. Just dinner. Nothing formal. A chance to get acquainted."
I opened my mouth to refuse. To say I wasn't interested. That I had no intention of being paraded in front of another suitable match like a prize stallion at auction.
But Felix was already speaking, his voice carrying just the right note of supportive concern.
"You know, cousin, if you're genuinely interested in Miss Vance—if there's real feeling there—I would support that. Family should support family, right?" His smile was warm, understanding. "I could talk to Arthur. Suggest we cancel these arranged meetings. Let you pursue whatever connection you might have with her."
He paused, letting the words hang in the air.
"Of course, that would be difficult given the optics we just discussed. The situation with Wesley. His parents' wishes." Another pause. "But if your feelings are strong enough, if this is real..."
He was giving me a choice. Publicly admit to having feelings for Serena—confirming every accusation Wesley had just made, validating the scandal Felix was trying to create—or accept the arranged meeting with Isabella.
Checkmate.
I looked at Felix, seeing the satisfaction barely concealed behind his mask of concern. Looked at Arthur, who was watching me with that assessing gaze that suggested he was reading far more into my hesitation than I wanted him to. Looked at Wesley, who was staring at me with a mixture of hope and resentment, waiting to see if I'd confirm that his accusations were true.
And I realized I was trapped.
If I refused the meeting with Isabella, it would look like I was choosing Serena. Confirming the relationship. Creating exactly the scandal Felix wanted.
If I went to the meeting, I'd be walking away from... what? A woman I'd had dinner with? Someone who worked for me? Someone I had no claim to and no right to protect beyond basic professional courtesy?
But the thought of Serena finding out I'd agreed to meet Isabella—Eleanor's niece, the woman being positioned as my perfect match—after everything that had happened today...
"Lance?" Arthur's voice cut through my thoughts. "The dinner tomorrow. Will you go?"
Every eye at the table was on me. Waiting. Watching.
I felt the weight of Felix's manipulation, Arthur's expectations, the photographs scattered across the table like accusations.
And underneath it all, the knowledge that Serena was out there somewhere, probably still dealing with the fallout from Wesley's confrontation.
"I'll go," I said, the words tasting like ash.