Chapter 212

Serena's POV

I watched Lucas's throat tighten as he struggled to contain his emotions. The tension between us filled the living room, making the space feel smaller. We sat in heavy silence.

"It's late. You should head home," I said softly.

"Got anything for a late dinner?" The unexpected request made me look up at him. I had assumed the strain between us had reached a point where even civil interaction seemed impossible.

"Rough day. Couldn't eat much on the red-eye from London," he explained, his voice carrying the weight of exhaustion.

My heart sank, then nodded. "I could throw together some risotto?" It was all I had in my kitchen at this hour.

"That would be perfect," he said quietly.

I made my way to the kitchen that I rarely used. Despite my recent attempts to branch out beyond Postmates and DoorDash, I had to admit cooking wasn't my strong suit. Even the simplest recipes seemed to challenge me.

When I returned from the kitchen, I found him fast asleep on couch. The fatigue was evident on his face, and my chest tightened. I knew how demanding his role at Harrington International was, and I was painfully aware that the recent accidents had only added to his workload.

Taking a deep breath, I retrieved a cashmere throw from my bedroom and gently draped it over him. He stirred slightly but didn't wake.

I retreated to my home office to review some reports while waiting for him to wake up, but the hours stretched on. The clock on the wall showed it was past midnight, and I realized I would struggle to make my 8 AM meeting if this continued.

After saving my files and shutting down my MacBook, I approached him. "Lucas, wake up," I called softly.

His brow furrowed, and something like panic flashed across his face. Before I could finish saying, "It's late, you should get back to-"

I let out a startled gasp as he suddenly pulled me down onto the couch, and I felt his warm lips press against mine, the lingering scent of his cologne enveloping me.

Before I could process what was happening, Lucas had me pinned against the couch, his weight pressing me into the plush cushions. His grip was unyielding, his cologne filling my senses.

The warm pressure of his lips crashed against mine, and I instinctively tried to push him away. "Stop!" But his embrace only tightened, making it difficult to breathe. In a moment of panic, my teeth caught his lower lip, drawing blood.

That seemed to snap him out of it. Lucas pulled back slightly, his steel-grey eyes darkening as he took in my flushed face beneath him. His suit was disheveled.

I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could get the words out - his lips found mine again. This time, the kiss was softer, almost tender, like the ones we'd shared during that weeks in Bahamas. The memory made me push harder against his chest.

When he finally released me, I hissed his name through clenched teeth. "Lucas freaking Harrington!" My voice shook with anger.

To my irritation, he had the nerve to smirk, running his tongue over his bloodied lip. I immediately looked away - his model appearance wasn't going to work on me anymore.

"My apologies," he said, his confidence somehow intact.

"Yeah, right. Like I haven't heard that before," I scoffed.

"Get off me," I said, my voice was cold.

Once he moved away, I straightened my loungewear. "Just leave."

"What about the risotto?" he asked, nodding toward my abandoned Blue Apron attempt in the kitchen.

"It's burned beyond recognition. Even the strays wouldn't touch it," I shot back.

I practically shoved him toward the door, cutting off whatever smooth talk he was about to attempt with a resounding slam.

Leaning against the door, I pressed my fingers to my tingling lips, angry at myself for the way my pulse was racing. Damn Lucas Harrington and his effect on me.

December in Manhattan was in full winter's grip.

Spencer Sherwood was hosting an end-of-year investor gala to celebrate his tech startup's successful Series B funding round. The grand ballroom was filled with elite - hedge fund managers, venture capitalists, and tech entrepreneurs networking over vintage champagne. I was actively expanding my team and looking for great people to join StarRiver. This gala would be perfect for connecting with potential candidates.

I chose a gown in platinum silk. Through the crowd, I spotted Quinn working the room with Spencer, her red gown a bold departure from her usual suits, which looked perfectly at home among the crowd.

"Serena."

I turned at the familiar voice. Jace Gillard stood there, looking thinner in black suit. He looked pale and disheveled, with an untrimmed beard that made him appear dejected.

"Long time no see," I greeted.

"Too long." His smile still held that director charm.

I felt a familiar ache. While Eleanor had faced a more public fall from grace, Jace's quiet struggles with burnout were just as real.

"Lucas just arrived," Jace murmured, nodding toward the entrance.

I followed his gaze to see Lucas Harrington walking in with Rachel Thorne. Without missing a beat, I excused myself.

I found a refuge on the corner. Quinn joined me minutes later.

"Hiding out?" she asked, settling onto the custom-heated marble bench.

I smiled. "Just taking a breather. How are your feet holding up?"

"These heels are murder," she sighed, slipping them off. "I should've stuck with Ferragamo."

"The curse of the red soles," I laughed. "Take them off - no one can see out here anyway."

Quinn glanced around the terrace before letting her feet rest on the heated stone. "God, that's better. The things we do for investor relations."

"It seems like Eleanor has been doing pretty well," she mentioned.

I nodded, genuinely pleased. "She's more resilient than any of us expected."

"It does," Quinn agreed.

Quinn's POV

I was chatting with Serena in the garden terrace. Marcus appeared by the stone pathway.

"Found you," he said with that familiar warm smile of his. I felt my shoulders tense instantly.

Being the intuitive person she was, Serena quickly read the room. "Quinn, I just remembered I need to make a call. I'll catch up with you later?"

I gave her a grateful nod. As she left, I caught her discreet glance back at me. Under the subtle landscape lighting, I fought to keep my composure as my eyes threatened to betray me.

"You've grown into quite the accomplished woman," he smiled, his voice carrying that same warmth I remembered from childhood.

I took a steadying breath before managing a quiet, "Marcus."

"Thought you might have forgotten about me after all these years," Spencer's older brother said. "It's getting chilly out here. Shall we head inside?"

As I reached for my heels, he stopped me. "Hold on."

Marcus knelt down, picking up my heel. The gesture reminded me of countless childhood memories, when he'd help me with my shoes after swimming. Just as he was about to help me, a familiar drawl cut through the moment.

"Really, brother? Playing Prince Charming with your sister-in-law?"

Spencer stood there in his tuxedo, the lights creating a backdrop behind him. His tone carried that characteristic condescension.

"Quinn's practically family," Marcus replied, though his low voice had lost its warmth.

"No, Marcus. She's not 'practically' family - she's legally family. My wife, your sister-in-law," Spencer's casual stance belied his clipped tone. "I'll take care of my wife, thank you."

He approached us, and I watched Marcus hesitate before setting the shoe down and standing up.

"Oh, and by the way," Spencer added with practiced nonchalance, "your girlfriend's looking lost among the crowd in there. Maybe you should rescue her."

My heart skiped a beat when I hear they're dating. A quiet ache bloomed in my chest, but I took a deep breath and let it dissolve into acceptance. Serenity followed.

Marcus offered a wry smile before walking away.

Spencer turned to me, his lips curving into that sarcastic smirk. "What's wrong? Surprised Marcus finally settled down?"

I composed myself, slipping into the calm facade. To him, I was just another merger and acquisition, albeit one that walked and talked.

He turned to leave. "Coming? Or did you actually expect the Prince Charming routine?"

This wasn't how I'd imagined my life would turn out. Spencer and I had no love lost between us - he'd made his disdain clear since our prep school days. If my family's hedge fund hadn't collapsed, I would never have agreed to this strategic marriage.

I hurriedly slipped on my heel, failing to suppress a wince. The six-inch heels had been manageable during cocktail hour, but after a full evening of networking, my foot was in terrible pain, and I could feel that the skin on my heel was scraped.

I caught Spencer watching me, one hand in his tuxedo pocket, radiating that cold indifference as I tried to mask my discomfort.

I steeled myself against the pain and matched his stride back into the glittering ballroom. I took his arm, playing my part in this high-society performance, every bit the perfect corporate wife these charity galas expected me to be.

Except for Sherwoods' events, I would absolutely not appear together with him, let alone interact at such close proximity