Chapter 50
Serena
I opened my mouth to say no—the truthful, simple answer that would defuse whatever dangerous tension was coiling through him right now.
But something stopped me. Maybe it was the memory of how he'd looked at me earlier, all heat and control barely leashed. Maybe I just wanted to see how far I could push before that perfect composure finally cracked.
"What do you think?" I said instead, leaning back in my chair with deliberate casualness.
Lance's gaze dropped to the business card still clutched in his hand, then to my desk where it had been sitting. His jaw worked for a moment before he spoke.
"You didn't go." His voice was flat, certain. "This card is sitting exactly where he left it—not filed away, not in your phone, not anywhere you'd actually use it." Those grey-blue eyes locked onto mine. "So no. You didn't have lunch with Felix."
Damn. He'd read the whole situation from a business card's placement.
But I wasn't done playing yet.
"You're right," I admitted, watching his shoulders relax fractionally. "I was too busy with the Grey Estate work to leave my desk." I paused, letting the implication hang. "But I was planning to go. He seemed nice."
The temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.
Something flashed across Lance's face—something dark and possessive that made my pulse spike. "Nice," he repeated, his voice dangerously soft.
"Very nice, actually." I was fully committed to this now, leaning into the provocation. "He's warmer than the rumors suggest. Charming. And that suit—" I made a vague gesture, "—he definitely knows how to dress. Very... magnetic."
Lance's eyes narrowed to slits.
"Plus, he was so helpful," I continued, warming to my theme. "Fixed my database access personally. Said if I ever needed anything—anything at all—I could call him directly." I tilted my head, all innocence. "That's pretty generous for a senior executive, don't you think?"
"You actually believe that?" Lance's voice could have cut glass. "You think Felix helps people out of the goodness of his heart?"
"I don't know." I shrugged. "Maybe he just likes helping talented people. Not everyone has ulterior motives."
"Everyone has ulterior motives." Lance leaned forward, bracing his hands on my desk. "Especially Felix. And you—" his gaze raked over me with clinical precision, "—clearly have value to him, whether you see it or not."
"Value?" I blinked. "I'm a junior analyst who's been here less than a week. What possible value could I have?"
"That's not for you to decide." His voice turned sharp, commanding. "Value is determined by the person assessing it. And Felix doesn't waste time on people unless they're either useful or dangerous to him."
He straightened, and the next words came out like an order. "Stay away from him. Three meters minimum. If he approaches you, you walk away. If he invites you anywhere, you're busy. If he tries to help you with anything, you decline and come directly to me."
I stared at him, fighting back a smile. This wasn't concern. This wasn't professional guidance.
This was jealousy, barely controlled and wrapped in CEO authority.
"Three meters?" I let my eyebrows rise, amusement creeping into my voice. "Should I bring a tape measure to the office? Draw a yellow line around my desk?" I leaned forward, matching his intensity. "And honestly, I'm curious now. What makes Felix so special that you're this worried?"
"Worried?" Lance's laugh was bitter. "I'm not worried. I'm being strategic."
"Right. Strategic." I couldn't keep the smile off my face anymore. "That's why you just tore up his business card like it personally offended you."
Lance's jaw clenched, but he didn't deny it.
I should have stopped there. Should have backed off before I pushed him too far.
But looking at him—this controlled, powerful man barely holding onto his composure because of me—I couldn't resist one more push.
"You know," I said thoughtfully, "the more you tell me to stay away from Felix, the more curious I get about what kind of person he really is—"
Lance moved.
One fluid motion and he was around the desk, both hands braced on my armrests, caging me in my chair. His face was inches from mine, and the look in his eyes made my breath catch.
"You want to know what kind of person Felix is?" His voice was low, dangerous. "Fine. Let me tell you exactly what happens to curious people around him."
He leaned closer, and I could feel the heat radiating off his body.
"Five years ago, there was another curious woman. Brilliant MBA graduate, twenty-six years old. She thought Felix was charming too. Thought he was just being helpful when he took her to dinners, gave her career advice, played the perfect mentor."
My smile faltered. Something in his tone made my skin crawl.
"Within six months, she was feeding him inside information. Within a year, her father's company was bankrupt." Lance's gaze held mine, unflinching. "Three months later, she was found dead at the bottom of her apartment building. Twenty-three floors."
The air left my lungs. "She—she jumped?"
"Security footage showed Felix visiting her apartment the night before. They had dinner. He left at midnight. She jumped at 4 AM." His voice turned colder. "He even attended her funeral. Sent white lilies. Gave a touching eulogy about what a brilliant mind the industry had lost."
My stomach turned. The image hit me like a physical blow—that woman, alone, desperate, falling through empty air while Felix probably slept soundly.
"That's—" I pressed a hand to my desk, steadying myself. "That's sick."
"That's Felix." Lance leaned closer, his eyes searching my face. "And if you keep looking at him with that curious, naive expression—if you keep thinking he's just some helpful executive who happened to notice your potential—you're going to end up exactly like her."
The fear must have shown on my face because something shifted in his expression—satisfaction, dark and primal, mixed with something that might have been concern.
"Good." His voice was almost gentle now, approving. "You understand. That's what I needed to see."
He pushed off my chair, already turning toward the door with that controlled stride.
"Vincent will bring you dinner. Don't work past ten."