Serena’s POV
Before I could answer, Maya’s voice suddenly erupted from my phone.
"Who the hell is that talking? Tell him to back the fuck off!"
Maya was already fuming about Ethan, and now soone had interrupted our conversation. When my best friend gets angry, she doesn’t care who she offends.
I seized the opportunity and flipped my phone cara to show Lance.
"Maya, this is designer Lance Draven. He worked on that collaboration project with Celestial Gems I told you about."
Maya just grunted, clearly uninterested in pleasantries right now.
"Are you at so event? Where are you?" she asked impatiently.
I laughed nervously, stealing quick glances at Lance who was still hovering uncomfortably close.
"Yeah, I’m at Lance’s art exhibition actually."
"Is it over yet? Find sowhere private so we can talk properly. I’m not done ranting about that jerk Ethan."
I forced another awkward laugh. "Sure, just give ten minutes, okay? I need to wrap things up here first."
Maya finally relented and hung up. I tucked my phone away and turned to Lance with what I hoped was a polite smile.
"Mr. Draven, I’m really sorry, but I need to leave now."
Lance’s forehead creased with obvious disappointnt. "Serena, we were supposed to have dinner together."
Were we? I don’t rember agreeing to that. My stomach tightened with discomfort.
"I’m sorry, perhaps another ti. Maya needs right now," I said firmly, turning to leave.
The silence behind —no footsteps following—brought instant relief. I spotted our studio driver leaning against the car, smoking. When he saw approaching, he quickly put out his cigarette.
"Mrs. Lazuli, are you leaving already? What about the others?"
I checked my watch. "Just take ho first, then co back for them. The exhibition isn’t over yet."
He nodded and opened the door for . "Of course, please get in."
Once safely inside the car, I imdiately called Maya back. She’d cald down sowhat, though her eyes were still puffy from crying. She was packing her suitcase, clearly planning to return to New York.
"I’m never coming to London again," she grumbled, stuffing clothes haphazardly into her bag.
My anxiety was slowly subsiding just hearing her familiar complaints. I sat back, finally able to breathe normally again.
Maya noticed my distraction. "Serena! Are you even listening to ?"
I startled. "Sorry, I just..." After hesitating for a mont, I told her about Lance’s strange behavior and how uncomfortable he made feel.
Maya initially dismissed my concerns, but after recalling what she’d just witnessed, her expression changed.
"You know, I’ve heard so artists can be really obsessive. Their minds work differently from normal people," she said thoughtfully. "Do you think this Lance guy might be... I don’t know, a creep? Or have so weird fetish?"
Her analysis sent shivers down my spine. "No way. He seems pretty respectable, not like—"
"Do bad people have it written on their faces?" Maya scoffed. "Like how ’I’m a cheating asshole’ wasn’t tattooed on Ethan’s forehead? Just be careful, okay? Don’t et with this Lance guy alone anymore."
I nodded, ntally vowing to keep my distance from him.
"I’m coming back to New York tomorrow," Maya announced dramatically. "I can’t stay in this heartbreaking place any longer."
She imdiately launched back into her tirade against Ethan. I sighed, settling in to listen to her vent until we reached the studio.
After hanging up, I headed to my office to catch up on so work. I’d barely made a dent in my emails when my phone buzzed again.
Lance’s na flashed across my screen.
I stared at it, debating whether to answer. The persistent ringing grated on my nerves. Maybe this was a good chance to firmly establish boundaries and make it clear he needed to back off.
Taking a deep breath, I answered with a deliberately cold tone.
"Mr. Draven. What can I help you with?"
"Serena? The exhibition’s over. Are you free now? I have so old friends who’d like to et you. Good connections for future collaborations."
I frowned, staring at my phone. Lance’s voice made my skin crawl. Sure, the designers he knew were well-established nas in the industry. Connections that could benefit professionally.
Maya’s warning echoed in my mind.
"Mr. Draven," I said firmly, "I already have plans for tonight. Perhaps another ti."
I moved to end the call when he cut in desperately.
"Wait! Serena, have I done sothing wrong? Is there so misunderstanding between us? If it’s about that piece, I sincerely apologize."
I pursed my lips, taking a deep breath to calm myself before responding.
"It’s nothing like that. I genuinely have other commitnts. I’m considering opening a branch studio, so I don’t have ti for social engagents right now."
Before he could protest, I rushed on, "Mr. Draven, we’ll collaborate another ti. I have a eting to attend. Goodbye."
I hung up abruptly, waiting anxiously to see if he’d call back. When my phone remained silent, I exhaled deeply, shoulders slumping with relief.
This suffocating feeling... I hadn’t experienced it in years. Not since...
I shoved my phone into my bag, ready to head back to the house. Just then, several designers returned from the exhibition, still buzzing with excitent as they discussed the displays.
"Mrs. Lazuli! Why did you leave early? Are you feeling unwell?" one of them asked, concern etched across her face.
I’d beco the studio’s precious asset—everyone treated the slightest change in my routine like a potential crisis. I smiled reassuringly and waved off their concerns.
"I had other matters to attend to. Please, continue your discussion."
"The exhibition was truly magnificent, Mrs. Lazuli. Lance Draven is an absolute genius," another designer gushed.
I forced a tight smile and headed out without further comnt.
Once in the car, I instructed the driver to take ho.
"Mrs. Quinn, we need to stop for gas first. It’ll take a few minutes."
I nodded. "That’s fine. I’ll wait here."
"The sun’s quite harsh today. Maybe you should wait in your office or grab a coffee nearby?" he suggested thoughtfully.
There were several nice cafés in the area, with delicious pastries too. My stomach growled at the thought.
"Good idea," I replied.
After the car pulled away, I crossed the street to a quaint coffee shop. I ordered a pastry and coffee, then settled into a window seat.
I gazed absently at passersby, my mind drifting to nowhere in particular. The server brought my order, and I murmured a thanks before taking a sip of coffee and nibbling at the pastry.
The air conditioning created a cocoon of comfort. Between the gentle hum of conversation, the comfortable temperature, and my earlier stress, I felt my eyelids growing heavy.
Just as they were about to close completely, soone slipped into the chair across from .
"Serena? Finished? We should go now."
I blinked hard, forcing my vision to focus on the person opposite .
As the face beca clearer, my heart lurched violently.
Lance Draven was sitting right in front of .
I tried to stand, to call out, but my body felt like lead. My limbs wouldn’t respond. Sothing was very, very wrong.
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