Chapter 192
Serena
"Fuck—yes, obviously!" The words burst out before I could stop them. "Felix gets rid of me, what's his next move? Come after you with everything he's got. He has the Corsetti family backing him, he has connections you don't even know about, he has a grudge the size of Manhattan and absolutely nothing left to lose. Of course I was worried he'd—"
Lance kissed me.
My hands flew up instinctively, palms flat against his chest, ready to shove him away. But his arms locked around my waist with a possessiveness that made my breath catch, pulling me flush against him until there was no space left between us.
The heat of his body seared through the thin fabric of my shirt, and something inside me—some carefully maintained wall of anger and hurt—cracked wide open.
God, I'd missed this. Missed him. The realization hit me like a physical blow, and with it came everything I'd been holding back: the fury at his lies, the terror of thinking he might die, the desperate longing I'd tried so hard to bury. It all surged up at once, overwhelming every rational thought until nothing existed except the taste of his mouth and the solid warmth of his body against mine.
I kissed him back with a ferocity that surprised us both, my fingers tangling in his hair as I pressed closer, harder, needing to erase the memory of that awful moment when I'd thought I'd lost him. Lance made a low sound in his throat, his grip tightening as I pushed forward, driving him backward across the room until—
The back of his knees hit the office chair. He sat down hard, and I followed without thinking, climbing into his lap with zero grace and even less restraint. His hands slid up my back, holding me like he was afraid I'd disappear if he let go, and I kissed him until my lungs burned and my head spun and—
Clarity crashed over me like ice water.
I broke away, breathing hard, my lips tingling and my face burning with embarrassment. "Don't think this means I forgive you," I managed, trying to inject some firmness into my voice even though I was still sitting in his lap like some lovesick teenager. "This kiss doesn't mean anything."
"Serena." His arms tightened around my waist when I tried to slide off, keeping me trapped against him. His eyes had lost that guarded quality, replaced by something raw and honest that made my chest ache. "I owe you an apology."
I gave his chest a light smack, more petulant than angry. "No shit. You owe me about fifty."
He caught my wrist before I could hit him again, his thumb brushing over my pulse point in a way that definitely wasn't fair.
"But there's something else you need to know." His voice had gone serious, almost grave. "Even though I planned everything down to the last detail, even though you were never really in danger—I was terrified. I didn't sleep last night. Not one fucking minute. Because the thought of you getting hurt, even a scratch, even for a second—" His jaw clenched. "I couldn't have lived with that. I wouldn't have survived it."
The confession stripped away the last of my resistance. My anger, my hurt, my stubborn pride—it all melted under the weight of his words and the vulnerability in his eyes. "So you really were worried about me," I said softly. "This whole time."
"Every second." He pulled me closer, tucking my head under his chin, and I let myself sink into his embrace. His heart beat steady and strong beneath my ear, grounding me in a way nothing else could. "I won't let you go again, Serena. I won't let you walk into danger or push me away or convince yourself you're better off alone."
His lips brushed my temple. "I love you."
Heat flooded my face so fast I probably turned the color of a fire truck. My heart did something complicated in my chest—a triple backflip followed by a victory lap—and suddenly all those lingering traces of irritation evaporated completely, replaced by a giddy happiness so intense it was almost embarrassing.
He loved me. Lance Lawson, the man who'd spent thirty-four years avoiding emotional entanglements like the plague, just said he loved me.
I tilted my head back, ready to kiss him properly this time, ready to say it back because God knows I felt it too, when—
Sharp knocking shattered the moment.
"Fuck!" Lance's whole body went rigid with frustration. "Who the hell—"
"Uh, yeah, so I know there's some... activity happening in there." Vincent's voice filtered through the door, awkward and apologetic. "But Felix has been apprehended as instructed and brought back to the Lawson estate. Arthur is requesting your presence. Immediately."