Chapter 200
Serena
Before I could protest this entire ridiculous situation, he was gone, phone already pressed to his ear as he strode away with that purposeful gait that made people instinctively move out of his path.
I stared after him, caught between exasperation and something dangerously close to being completely charmed.
"Well," Vincent said, climbing out and opening my door with exaggerated courtesy, "given that rule number one is going to be nearly impossible to enforce, I suggest we focus on rule number two. Let's find you something that makes you feel like the badass CEO you are."
I accepted his offered hand and stepped out onto the pristine sidewalk, the late afternoon sun glinting off the showroom's floor-to-ceiling windows. Through the glass, I could see an array of vehicles that probably cost more collectively than my entire company's current valuation.
"This is insane," I muttered, but I was already moving toward the entrance, drawn by some combination of curiosity and the reckless feeling that had been building in me since Lance's declaration in front of his entire family. "Completely insane."
"Insane is kind of your brand now," Vincent said cheerfully, holding the door open. "Might as well lean into it."
The interior of Premier Auto Collection was exactly what I'd expected—all polished marble floors, soft lighting, and the kind of hushed atmosphere that screamed money. A perfectly coiffed saleswoman materialized almost instantly, her smile professional but warm as she took in Vincent's expensive suit and my considerably more rumpled appearance.
"Good afternoon," she said smoothly. "Welcome to Premier Auto Collection. I'm Diana. How can I help you today?"
"Ms. Vance is looking for a vehicle," Vincent said, somehow managing to make it sound like I was royalty shopping for a new crown. "Something that reflects her position and personality."
Diana's smile widened. "Of course. We have several options that might interest you. If you'll follow me?"
She led us through the main showroom, past a row of vehicles that looked more like sculptures than cars—all sharp angles, aggressive lines, and price tags that made my head spin. I tried to focus, tried to imagine myself behind the wheel of any of these machines, but they all felt wrong. Too much. Too showy. Too...not me.
"These are beautiful," I said carefully, not wanting to insult Diana's obvious pride in the inventory, "but I think I'm looking for something a little different. Maybe we could see some other options?"
"Of course." Diana's professionalism never wavered. "We have additional inventory in our secondary showroom. If you'll just—"
"Actually," Vincent interrupted, his gaze fixed on something in the corner of the showroom, "let's check out that one first."
I followed his line of sight and felt my breath catch.
Tucked away in a small alcove, almost as if it had been waiting for me, sat a convertible in the most perfect shade of dusty rose I'd ever seen. It wasn't flashy or aggressive like the others—instead, it had clean, elegant lines that suggested confidence without trying too hard. The soft top was down, revealing cream leather interior that looked butter-soft even from here.
I found myself moving toward it without conscious thought, my fingers trailing along the smooth curve of the hood. Something about it just felt right—like it had been designed specifically for the version of myself I was still becoming. Not the scared girl who'd let her family dictate her life. Not the desperate woman who'd clung to Wesley for three years. But the person who'd stood in a warehouse facing down Felix, who'd built a company from nothing, who'd just survived forty-eight hours of hell and come out the other side.
"This one," I heard myself say, then immediately caught myself. "I mean—what's the price on this?"
Diana consulted her tablet. "This is a limited edition model, fully customized. The price is—"
"We'll take it," Vincent said firmly.
I whirled on him. "Vincent, I haven't even heard—"
"You walked around this car three times," he said, his expression knowing. "You looked at it the way most people look at their first love. Your eyes literally lit up, Serena. I'm not letting you walk away from something that makes you feel like that just because of a number on a price tag."
"But—"
He was already handing Lance's Amex to Diana. "We'll take it. Today. Whatever needs to be done to make that happen."
"Wait!" I reached for my own wallet, panic and pride warring in my chest. "I can pay for this myself. I have money now. I don't need—"
"Excellent choice," Diana said, already swiping the card with practiced efficiency. "I'll just need to process this and prepare the paperwork. This won't take long at all."
"Hold on—"
"Well, well, well." The voice that cut through my protest was painfully familiar, dripping with false sweetness and genuine venom. "If it isn't the fallen heiress herself, Serena Vance. Or should I say, the bankrupt nobody playing dress-up as a CEO?"
Every muscle in my body tensed as I turned to face Vanessa Holland, flanked by a nervous-looking man in an expensive suit who had manager written all over him. She looked exactly as polished as always—designer everything, perfect hair, smile sharp enough to cut glass.
"Vanessa," I said flatly, not bothering to hide my contempt. "What a disappointment to see you here."
Her laugh was like nails on a chalkboard. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen. First you couldn't hold onto Wesley, now you're here throwing yourself at Lance's assistant?" Her gaze slid to Vincent with theatrical disdain. "I mean, I knew you were desperate, but really, Serena. A driver? That's the best you could do after failing to lock down an actual Lawson?"
Vincent's entire body went rigid beside me, his hand clenching around Lance's card. "Ms. Holland," he said, his voice tight with barely controlled fury, "I strongly suggest you watch your next words very carefully. You have no idea what kind of consequences your mouth is about to bring down on your family."