Chapter 32
Serena
The silence that followed Elena's outburst stretched thick and warping.
I watched her sway, one hand white-knuckled against the table's edge, the other fumbling uselessly for balance in a world that had started to tilt. Her pupils dilated rapidly—black pools swallowing the hazel irises I'd grown up resenting. The drug was working exactly as intended.
Just not on its intended target.
I didn't stand. Didn't raise my voice. I crossed one leg over the other with deliberate leisure, my wine glass dangling from my fingers as if we had all the time in the world.
"Oh?" The word came out light, conversational, as if Elena had just commented on the weather rather than screamed about my supposed role as a prostitute. "So it wasn't just about closing a business deal tonight. There were... additional terms you two had in mind?"
Henderson's face went from flushed to ashen in the space of a heartbeat. A bead of sweat traced a slow path down his temple, disappearing into the collar of his custom shirt. "Your sister is obviously—she's had too much to drink, Miss Vance. You shouldn't take anything she says seriously when she's—"
"When she's what?" I interrupted, my tone still infuriatingly mild. I tilted my head, studying him the way one might examine a particularly disappointing piece of art. "Drugged? Is that the word you're looking for, Mr. Henderson?"
The color drained completely from his face.
I let the silence build, watching him flounder. Elena made a small sound—half whimper, half groan—as she struggled to keep herself upright. Her designer dress, the one she'd probably spent an hour selecting to look effortlessly elegant, now hung slightly askew, one strap sliding down her shoulder.
She looked like exactly what she'd tried to make me: a woman who'd had too much to drink and lost control of the situation.
"Because here's what I'm wondering," I continued, swirling the wine in my glass with studied casualness. "My sister just screamed about me spreading my legs to close a deal. You've been insisting all evening that we 'relax' and 'enjoy ourselves' before discussing business. And now she can barely stand after drinking wine that was originally poured for me." I paused, letting each word land with deliberate weight.
"The evidence is rather damning, don't you think? What would the police make of all this, I wonder?"
"Jesus Christ." Henderson lurched to his feet, his chair scraping back with enough force to draw glances from the servers hovering near the kitchen entrance. His hands came up in a placating gesture that might have been convincing if they weren't shaking. "This is a misunderstanding. A terrible misunderstanding. Your sister—she was joking. She has a dark sense of humor when she drinks. I would never—I'm not the kind of man who would—"
"Commit felony sexual assault?" I supplied helpfully. "Drug a woman with intent to rape her? Is that what you're not the kind of man to do, Mr. Henderson?"
The words hung in the air like poison gas. I watched him process them, watched the calculations running behind his eyes—the risk assessment, the damage control, the desperate scramble for an exit strategy.
"Please." His voice dropped to an urgent whisper as he glanced toward the door again. "Please, Miss Vance. This has all gotten out of hand. Just take your sister home. We can forget this ever happened." He leaned forward, desperation bleeding into his tone. "Your father and I—we go back years. We have a good relationship, a strong partnership. But if there's any... misunderstanding about what happened here tonight, I won't be able to continue working with him. You understand that, don't you?"
His eyes searched mine, pleading. "Richard is going through hell right now. The bankruptcy, the creditors circling—I'm one of the few people still willing to help him. But not if he thinks I've... if he gets the wrong idea about his daughter and me." He swallowed hard. "The contract is signed. You have what you came for. Just take Elena home, and we all walk away clean."
I considered him for a long moment, then set down my wine glass with careful precision and rose to my feet. Elena made another small sound of distress as I approached her, my heels clicking against the hardwood with each measured step. When I reached her side, I placed one hand on her shoulder—gentle, sisterly, the very picture of familial concern.
"Come on," I said softly, loud enough for Henderson to hear. "Let's get you home."
The moment my fingers made contact with her skin, Elena's remaining strength surged in one final, vicious burst. She shoved me away hard enough that I had to catch myself against the table's edge, her face contorting with rage even as her body betrayed her with its increasing limpness.
"Get the fuck away from me!" The words came out slurred, consonants blurring together, but the venom remained crystal clear. "You fucking bitch. You scheming little bitch. I'm—I'm so dizzy. What did you—" Her eyes tried to focus on me and failed, pupils huge and glassy. "You switched the glasses. You knew. You always fucking know everything, don't you? Little Miss Perfect. Little Miss Yale. The only thing you're good for is getting fucked by men and somehow you managed to screw that up too!"
She tried to lunge at me again, but her legs gave out mid-motion. She collapsed forward, torso slamming onto the table with enough force to rattle the silverware. Her head turned to the side, cheek pressed against the white linen, and even unconscious, her face held that same twisted expression of pure malice.
I stared down at her, this woman who'd spent twenty-two years making sure I knew my place, making sure I understood that everything good in my life was conditional and temporary and subject to her approval. The hatred that rose in my chest was so pure, so crystalline, that it almost felt clean.
No more.
No more letting it slide. No more being the bigger person. No more protecting her from the consequences of her own cruelty.
I turned to Henderson, who was standing frozen by his chair, looking like a man watching his entire world collapse in real time. The smile that curved my lips was probably not a nice one. "You know," I said pleasantly, "I just realized something. My sister and I don't really get along. We haven't for years. And given her current... state... I don't think she'd be very comfortable if I tried to take her home."