14: Uninvited Guest

Hannah's POV.

I sat across from Alexander, trying to look like I belonged in a restaurant where the menu didn't even have prices. The table was covered in white cloth so thick it felt like canvas. The air was filled with the clinking of expensive crystal and the low murmur of people who had never worried about a utility bill in their lives.

"You're doing it again," Alexander said.

I looked up from my lap. He was watching me over the rim of his wine glass. His eyes were dark and steady. "Doing what?"

"Thinking too much. You’re holding your breath like you’re waiting for the floor to drop." He reached across the table. His fingers didn't grab mine; they just brushed the back of my hand, a light pressure that made my heart race. "Relax, Hannah. You’re with me. Nobody in this room is going to say a word to you."

"They don't have to say it," I said, my voice finally finding its footing. "I can feel them looking. They know I’m still a Vance. They know Daniel is upstairs in your building right now, probably telling everyone I’ve lost my mind."

Alexander’s expression didn't change, but his grip on the stem of his glass tightened. "Daniel is a footnote. By the time the weekend is over, he’ll be lucky if anyone remembers his name. We have a plan, remember? My parents are in town for the next two months. This is the first day. We have to be perfect."

I nodded, taking a sip of the wine. It was cold and crisp. I thought about what he’d told me in the car...about his mother’s obsession with his personal life. I was his shield. And in return, he was my sword. It was a fair trade, but as he kept his hand near mine, the line between the deal and the reality felt like it was wearing thin.

Then, the front door of the restaurant opened.

The noise in the room didn't stop, but it changed. It was like a cold wind had just blown through the heater. I saw the headwaiter straighten his back so fast I thought he might snap.

Alexander’s hand pulled back from the table. His face turned into a mask of cold stone. I didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

"Alexander," a woman's voice said. It was smooth, sharp, and sounded like it was used to giving orders that were never questioned.

I turned my head. Eleanor Mercer was walking toward us. She was alone, which somehow made her look even more dangerous. Her hair was a perfect silver-blonde, pulled back so tight it made her eyes look like ice. She was wearing a cream-colored suit that probably cost more than my college tuition.

Alexander stood up slowly. "Mother. You’re early. I wasn't expecting you until the morning. And where is Father?"

"Your father is at the hotel, dealing with a headache from the flight," Eleanor said. She didn't look at her son. Her eyes were locked on me. It was the kind of look a scientist gives a bug under a microscope. "And I’m glad I came early. It seems I didn't need an invitation to find you."

"How did you know we were here?" Alexander asked, his voice dropping into a dangerous warning tone.

Eleanor pulled out a chair from the next table and sat down without being asked. She folded her gloved hands on the table. "I called your office. Sarah was very helpful. She told me you had a 'private' lunch scheduled. I assume she knows who her real employer is, even if you’ve forgotten."

Alexander’s jaw tightened. I could see the muscles in his neck pull. His own assistant had sold him out.

"Mother, this is Hannah Vance," Alexander said, moving with a deliberate slowness as he sat back down. "My new Head of Operations. And my guest."

Eleanor didn't offer her hand. Her eyes traveled from my face down to my hands. I was glad I wasn't wearing my wedding ring. My finger felt light, but the mark where the band used to be was still there, a pale ghost of a life I was trying to bury.

"Vance," Eleanor said, the name sounding like a bad taste in her mouth. "That name sounds familiar. Is it the same Vance family that manages our mid-tier logistics?"

"The very same," Alexander said.

Eleanor leaned forward, her diamonds catching the light. She didn't sound sorry at all. She sounded like she was enjoying a joke I wasn't in on. "I was so sorry to hear about your... domestic troubles, Hannah. But isn't the ink on your marriage license still a bit too wet for you to be sitting at this table with my son?"

The table went silent. I felt the heat rise in my neck. I could feel every eye in the restaurant on us. I looked at Alexander. He was staring at his mother with a look of pure, focused anger, but he didn't speak. He was waiting to see what I would do.

I took a breath. I thought about the three years I had spent being told to shut up and be pretty. I thought about Daniel’s hand on my wrist in the meeting.

I looked Eleanor right in her icy eyes. I didn't blink.

"A marriage is just a contract, Eleanor," I said. My voice was steady, clearer than I expected. "And as Alexander can tell you, I’m very good at breaking contracts that no longer serve a purpose. My personal life isn't a domestic trouble. It’s a liquidation of bad assets."

Beside me, I saw Alexander’s mouth twitch. It wasn't a smile, but it was close. He looked at me with a flash of pride that made my stomach do a slow roll.

Eleanor’s eyebrows shot up. She looked like someone had just slapped her with a silk glove. "Liquidation? How very... corporate of you. But let’s be real, dear. You are still legally tied to a man who works for us. It’s messy. It’s a scandal waiting to happen. Alexander has a reputation to keep."

"My reputation is fine, Mother," Alexander cut in. He reached over and took my hand, his fingers locking firmly with mine. He didn't do it under the table. He did it right on top of the white cloth, in full view of his mother and the entire room. "Hannah isn't a scandal. She’s the smartest move I’ve made this year. If the public wants to talk about her marriage, let them. They’ll be too busy looking at her new title to care about her old one."

He squeezed my hand. It wasn't a "fake" squeeze. It was hard, real, and grounded.

"We’re done with lunch," Alexander said, his voice leaving no room for argument. He stood up, pulling me with him.

Eleanor looked stunned. "We just got here, Alexander. We have a dinner to discuss."

"We’ll discuss it when you’ve learned how to speak to my guest," he said.

He didn't wait for her to answer. He put his arm around my waist, pulling me tight against his side. We walked out of the restaurant, my heart thumping against my ribs so hard I thought he could feel it through his suit.

As soon as we hit the sidewalk and the valet brought the car around, the silence broke. The city noise rushed back in...the honking cabs, the shouting tourists.

Alexander stopped by the car door. He didn't let go of me. He looked down at me, his eyes searching my face. His thumb brushed against my hip, a small movement that made my skin feel like it was on fire.

"You handled her," he whispered. He sounded a little breathless. "I’ve seen CEOs crumble under that look, and you just looked her in the eye and told her you were liquidating your life."

"I meant it," I said, looking up at him. The adrenaline was still humming in my veins. "I’m done being the girl who waits for permission."

Alexander leaned in. For a second, I thought he was going to kiss me right there on the street, with his mother probably watching through the window. He was so close I could see the gold flecks in his eyes.

"Good," he said, his voice a low growl. "Because the next two months are going to be a war. And I think I finally found the only person who can help me win it."

He opened the car door for me, his eyes lingering on mine for a second too long to be part of the act. As I sat down, I realized something terrifying.

I wasn't just acting anymore. And I didn't think he was either.