Chapter 29

Serena's POV

I turn, and there he is-Lucas, standing off to the side, tall and intimidating, his dark hair slightly tousled in a way that makes me want to stare forever. A perfectly tailored suit molds against every line of his strong body, emphasizing lean muscle that nearly crackles with energy. The moment he steps closer, I feel his presence like a current in the air.

He addresses me in a tone so soft only I can hear. "Milo and Stella will arrive soon with my grandfather," he says, glancing toward the far side of the ballroom. "I want you to wait for them."

His voice is low, rich, and it rolls through me like slow thunder. I nod, my throat tight. "Got it."

Lucas holds my gaze for a split second longer-long enough to send heat fluttering through my chest-then he moves away. Ian and his circle stare at Lucas's retreating figure, trying to piece everything together.

A clueless buddy of Ian's leans in. "Hey, man, who is that? Another security guy? Didn't you say he used to be a cop?"

Ian shrugs like it's no big deal. "Yeah, probably just a glorified bodyguard. Being handsome won't get you too far in this crowd."

I hold back a laugh. If only they knew the truth about Lucas. Their ignorance is downright pathetic.

Suddenly, the atmosphere in the room shifts again. The chatter dies down, and heads swivel toward the main entrance where an older man is being wheeled in-a regal figure in a luxurious suit, his hair silvery and neat. The hush is instant. Howard Harrington, the patriarch. He's escorted by staff and surrounded by top-tier guests, all jockeying to give their most gracious greetings. It's like a swarm of bees around honey.

I see Milo and Stella trailing behind, tiny and wide-eyed in the crush of people. They look like they're trying to keep up with the grand procession but seem overwhelmed by the sheer number of strangers crowding close. My heart tightens. I can't leave them in that chaos.

I push forward through the throng just as Howard begins to exchange pleasantries with some VIPs. Nina Sinclair is among them-her lips parted in a simpering smile, hoping to gain the old man's favor. The second she spots me, her expression hardens. Before she can make a snide remark, I slip around her and head for Milo and Stella.

Ian tries to block me again, seizing my wrist. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" he growls under his breath. "You don't just walk up to Howard Harrington like you own the place. Let the real players handle this."

I yank free, my voice ice-cold. "Get out of my way."

He scoffs. "You're just embarrassing yourself."

Ignoring him, I cut through the crowd. Milo and Stella spot me, and relief floods their faces. A couple of bodyguards follow close behind them, but they hang back, letting me take over.

"Mommy!" Milo tugs my hand. "It's so loud here."

Stella clings to my side. "Can we get some dessert now? Great-Grandpa's surrounded. We're stuck."

I grin, bending down to brush Stella's hair behind her ear. "Of course we can."

I lead them toward the dessert table in a quieter corner of the hall, feeling a thousand eyes on us. Nina Sinclair soon reappears, stepping into our path with a bright, toothy smile that's dripping with venom.

"Aww, Serena, I didn't realize you were in charge of babysitting," she says, her tone full of mock sweetness. "Such a convenient role, don't you think?"

My spine stiffens. "Don't start, Nina. I have no patience for your games."

She arches a brow. "I'm just making conversation. But don't you think you're overstepping boundaries, parading those kids around at a formal event? People will talk, you know."

I stand my ground. "If you're so worried about people talking, maybe go mind your own business."

For a split second, Nina looks like she might lash out, but then she notices how close Stella is, blinking up at her in confusion. With a disdainful sniff, Nina steps back and storms off, clearly not ready to spark a scene with a child in the crossfire.

I turn my attention back to Milo and Stella, guiding them to the gleaming array of cakes and sweets. Their eyes light up instantly, and they start picking out slices of chocolate cake and fruit tarts. I help them fill small plates, relieved to see them relax.

Off to my left, Evelyn Whitmore stands near Jace Gillard, the famous director under the Harrington umbrella. Evelyn's body language is all fake charm-she's leaning in, fluttering her eyelashes. I catch snippets of their conversation over the general buzz.

"I want to know why I was suddenly replaced," she asked discreetly.

"That was a decision from higher up at the company," Jace replied, sounding uninterested.

She pressed on. "Aren't you one of the shareholders in Vanguard Media?"

Jace shook his head. "This came straight from Harrington. I don't have the final say."

"Harrington?" Her face darkened. "Was Drew Yeager involved in this? He's denied it to my face before."

Jace sighed. "Why don't you ask him yourself?" He pointed toward the entrance, where Drew Yeager and Spencer Sherwood had just arrived.

Hearing this response, she wasn't satisfied and fell silent for a moment. Then, in a flattering and seductive tone, "...and if you ever need someone with my experience, I'd be thrilled to collaborate," she says, voice syrupy. "Oh, by the way, here's my personal number. Feel free to call me anytime. Even late at night."

I roll my eyes. Typical Evelyn, trying to cling to anything that might elevate her status. She holds out a little slip of paper, no doubt scrawled with her contact info. But Jace's eyes flick to it with mild annoyance.

"Thanks," he mutters curtly, "but I've got all the talent I need right now. You'll have to contact my assistant if you want an audition."

Evelyn's smile wavers, clearly not expecting such a direct brush-off. She tries to protest, but Jace politely shakes his head and walks away, leaving her standing there with that piece of paper in her hand. She looks ready to explode from embarrassment.

To make matters worse, Eleanor Yates-a well-known socialite who's rumored to have her own ambitions in the entertainment world-steps by at that exact moment. She eyes Evelyn's predicament, lets out a soft, mocking snicker, and keeps strolling. Evelyn's cheeks flare red, and she quickly pockets the note.

"Mommy?" Milo nudges me, his mouth already smudged with chocolate frosting. "Do we have to go back soon?"

Stella tilts her head. "Yeah, it's too crowded by Grandpa."

I place a hand on Stella's shoulder, smiling gently. "You two can stay with me a little while longer, okay? We'll take a break."