Chapter 45
Serena
The man I'd tried to report for embezzlement. The man who'd been stealing from the company for years. The man Vincent had described as Lance's hidden enemy, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.
And he was standing in my office, smiling at me like we were old friends.
I forced my expression to remain neutral and took his offered hand. His grip was warm, confident, just the right amount of pressure. Everything about him screamed practiced charisma.
"Mr. Lawson." I withdrew my hand as quickly as politeness allowed. "What can I do for you?"
"Please, call me Felix." He gestured toward my computer screen, still displaying the ACCESS DENIED message. "I heard you were having trouble accessing the Grey Estate database. Terrible timing, really."
Every alarm bell in my head started ringing. "How did you—"
"IT department mentioned it during our morning sync." He shook his head ruefully. "We had a major system update last night—security protocols, permission hierarchies, the whole infrastructure. Unfortunately, it reset a lot of the access credentials in the process." His expression turned apologetic. "Pure bad luck that yours got caught in the crossfire. And even worse luck that no one thought to warn you in advance."
"I see." I remained standing, not willing to give him the psychological advantage. "My assistant is escalating it now. I'm sure it will be resolved soon."
"Actually—" Felix pulled out his phone, tapping the screen a few times. "I can fix that for you right now. Senior executives have emergency override access for exactly these situations."
He glanced at my computer. "May I?"
I hesitated. Everything about this felt wrong. Too convenient. Too friendly. But refusing would make me look paranoid, and I did need that access desperately.
"Of course," I said, stepping aside.
Felix moved to my desk with easy confidence, his fingers flying across the keyboard. "This is just a temporary authorization key—IT will set up your permanent credentials this afternoon, but this should get you working immediately." He typed a long string of characters, then hit enter.
The screen flickered. The error message disappeared, replaced by the Grey Estate database interface—hundreds of catalog entries, high-resolution images, provenance documents stretching back decades.
"There we go." Felix straightened, looking pleased with himself. "All sorted. You should have full access now."
I stared at the screen, then at him. "That was... thank you. I really appreciate it."
"Happy to help." His smile was disarming, genuine. "We're all on the same team here, Miss Vance. Your success is the company's success." He glanced at his watch—that elegant Patek Philippe that probably cost six figures. "And speaking of which, since I've saved you a morning of frustration, the least you can do is let me buy you lunch."
There it was. The real reason he'd come.
"That's very generous," I said carefully, "but I really should dive into this work now that I have access—"
"It's almost noon." Felix's tone remained light, friendly, but there was steel underneath. "You haven't eaten. The database will still be here in an hour. And—" he leaned against my desk with casual familiarity, "—I have to admit, I'm curious about you."
"Curious?"
"You broke up with Wesley." He ticked off points on his fingers. "Not an easy feat, given his family connections and trust fund. You somehow impressed Lance—my notoriously particular cousin—enough to earn a major project promotion within days." His eyes glittered with interest. "And I heard through the grapevine that you attempted to investigate certain... irregularities in procurement invoices."
My blood ran cold. "I don't know what you—"
"Relax." Felix's laugh was big, booming, completely disarming. "I'm not offended. Really. I admire the initiative. It takes courage to challenge senior management when you're brand new." He straightened, that magnetic energy practically vibrating off him.
"That's exactly why I want to have lunch with you. I want to understand what makes you tick. How you managed to capture Lance's attention. What your ambitions are."
He extended his hand in invitation. "One lunch, Miss Vance. What's the harm? Consider it mentorship from a senior executive. I promise the company cafeteria makes an excellent Cobb salad."
I looked at him—this charming, dangerous man who'd just solved my problem with effortless ease. Who was offering guidance, friendship, an olive branch after I'd essentially accused him of embezzlement.
Everything about the offer was reasonable. Generous, even.
And every instinct screamed that it was a trap.
If Vincent hadn't warned me this morning, I thought, watching Felix's easy smile, I'd be saying yes right now. He's perfect—charming, helpful, exactly the kind of mentor I'd kill to have.
That was what made him so dangerous. He didn't look like an enemy. He looked like an ally.
"Thank you for fixing my access," I said, choosing my words carefully. "That was incredibly helpful, and I'm grateful. But I really do need to focus on the Grey Estate work. The presentation is in one week, and I can't afford to waste time."
Felix studied me for a long moment, and I saw the calculation happening behind those warm eyes. Then he smiled—still friendly, but with an edge I hadn't seen before.
"Of course. Dedication to work. Very admirable." He moved toward the door, then paused, pulling a business card from his jacket pocket. He didn't hand it to me directly. Instead, he set it on the corner of my desk—carefully positioned on top of a stack of provenance documents, impossible to miss.
"If you ever need anything—anything at all—don't hesitate to call." His smile turned knowing. "Lance is brilliant at what he does, but he can be... rigid. Inflexible. Sometimes it helps to have allies who understand more creative approaches to business problems."
The implication hung in the air like smoke.
"I'll keep that in mind," I said neutrally.
"Please do." Felix flashed one more of those disarming smiles. "And Miss Vance? Welcome to Lawson Capital. I have a feeling you're going to shake things up around here."
Then he was gone, his presence lingering in my office like expensive cologne—pleasant on the surface, with something darker underneath.