Chapter 203
Serena
The manager's face had gone from professional concern to genuine panic. His mouth opened and closed twice before any sound came out. "Mr. Lawson, Ms. Vance—perhaps today isn't the best time to complete any transactions. Maybe another day when you could grace us with your presence again. I'm so sorry for wasting your valuable time—"
"Oh, don't worry about it." I found myself smiling, genuinely amused for the first time since walking into this nightmare. Vanessa's face was still swollen from Vincent's slaps, the angry red handprints standing out against her pale skin like badges of humiliation. Every second of watching her composure crumble had been worth the price of admission. "Every single minute here has been absolutely priceless."
I caught Vanessa's eye and gave her a slow, deliberate wink. Her expression twisted with such pure hatred that I almost laughed out loud. "I'm sure I'll never forget my time at this dealership. As for the car—I'm confident we can find what we need somewhere else."
I reached for Lance's arm, ready to leave this circus behind with my dignity intact and Vanessa's pride in ruins. Victory enough for one day.
But Lance didn't move.
"Well," he said, his voice carrying that particular lazy drawl that meant he was about to do something ruthless, "I did say I was going to get you a gift here today. And I intend to make sure you receive it. Give me a few minutes."
I turned to look at him, confused. "But—"
"Ms. Vance." Vincent's voice was smooth as silk, though his eyes were still sharp with barely contained violence. "You have to understand your boyfriend's... enthusiasm. I'm quite certain the company's shareholders will be happy to accommodate Mr. Lawson."
Lance had already pulled out his phone and was walking toward the entrance, the manager practically stumbling after him with stammered protests. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, I watched Lance step outside, his back to us, one hand in his pocket as he lifted the phone to his ear. The picture of casual, terrifying power.
Vanessa's face went from red to nearly purple. "What the fuck? You're bluffing!" But her voice cracked on the last word, betraying her fear. "My father is out with friends today! He won't take any business calls! You think you can scare me by pretending to—"
"Well," I said, taking my time with each word, letting them settle in the air between us like stones dropping into still water, "if it's just a bluff, there's really no reason to look quite so rattled, is there? I mean, if you're so confident your father won't pick up, why are your hands shaking?"
Vanessa's jaw locked tight, her teeth grinding audibly. "I'm not scared of a goddamn thing. You think a man who's just playing around with you is going to go to war with my family?"
"Tea, Ms. Vance? Mr. Torres?" The manager had returned, slightly out of breath, carrying a tray with trembling hands. His attempt to stop Lance had clearly failed. He set down two delicate porcelain cups at a nearby table, his obsequiousness almost comical as he pulled out chairs for us like we were visiting royalty instead of customers who'd just witnessed his complete failure of backbone.
I sat, mostly because my legs were still shaking from adrenaline. Vincent settled beside me with the grace of a predator at rest.
Vanessa stormed toward our table, her Louboutins clicking furiously against the marble floor. "Fuck this! Who's in charge here? Where's my tea?!"
The manager actually flinched. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he leaned toward Vanessa. "Ms. Holland, I strongly suggest you apologize to Ms. Vance. Right now. Do you have any idea what a single phone call from Lance Lawson can do?"
Vanessa laughed, but it sounded hollow. "What, you mean like when he—"
"Like when he cleaned out the Lawson Capital board and removed Thomas Lawson from the CEO position in less than twenty-four hours." The manager's voice was urgent now, almost pleading. "One phone call. That's all it took. Or when he destroyed Meridian Holdings after they tried to poach his clients—another single phone call, Ms. Holland. Their stock price dropped sixty percent in three days. They're still in Chapter 11."
I watched Vanessa's face carefully. The color was draining from it now, replaced by a waxy pallor that made her swollen cheeks look even worse. Her legs—those legs that had always carried her with such arrogant confidence—were trembling.
But she wasn't done fighting. "Fuck that! Lance wouldn't go to war with the Holland family over some girl! You know my father and Arthur Lawson go way back! They—"