Vance X Bruce Novels & Stories

The wounds on his body were badly mangled, and it truly was a gruesome sight, just as Johnny had warned. Of course, it was easy enough to deduce what had happened, seeing as he had a childhood friend who specialized in special effects makeup—Lorraine Turner. That woman was also the one Louis had held in his arms in my past life! The two of them were the ones who had eloped after clearing out all of the company funds and were the ones behind my untimely death. "You! Absolute! Scum!" With each word, I slapped Louis' face as hard as I could.

My eyes widened, "I'm the CEO of Phoenix inc. I'm supposed to be meeting with Mr. Winehall." His jaw clenched, "You are looking at him. I'm Zane Winehall and I'll be representing my father," he held out his hand. I couldn't breathe. How was this Adonis related to that slimy bastard? "Aya Jacobs," I placed my smaller hand in his. The spark of electricity that shot up my hand at that brief contact had me tearing my hand away, heart pounding. He looked as shell shocked as I was and I reminded myself that he was as much the enemy as his father was.

Kaelen pleaded, dropping to his knees beside him. Vance lay propped against the vanity, his face pale beneath the bronzed skin, dark sweat dampening his brow. The bullet had torn clean through his left shoulder, an inch below the collarbone, a violent, gouging entry and exit wound that spurted steady crimson with every beat of his racing heart. Kaelen reached for his silk tie, ripping it from his collar and pressing it hard into the bleeding entry wound. Vance let out a low, dangerous growl, his right hand shooting out like an iron vise, his fingers locking around Kaelen’s wrist with frightening intensity. His dark hazel eyes swung up, unfocused but burning with that raw, unyielding dominanc

“No. You cannot. That is why this works. He already saw you once. He will remember the girl who looked tired and angry and not important. Tonight you look like someone who survived the important people.” The bar in Tribeca was half empty. Brass rail. Low music. Vance sat where Carmine said he would, coat still on, a short glass in front of him. Vincent stayed near the door. I walked to the table alone. Vance looked up and went still. “You,” he said. “Me.” I sat without asking. “You watched me buy insulin and then you let a man put my name on a leak I never made.” Vance’s mouth flattened. “I do not discuss open matters in bars.”

Vance crushed out the cigarette, shifted gears, and pressed down on the accelerator. To him, the thirty-day agreement was nothing more than a buffer, a chance for them to adjust to each other again. He had even postponed all executive meetings after two o’clock in his secretary’s schedule, just so he could be home at five for the beef Wellington she would cook with her own hands. The Maybach roared away toward Bradford Group headquarters. Vance did not know that on the dim, damp escalator descending into Charing Cross Station, Rebecca had already taken out her phone again.

His gaze dropped to mine before he sat beside Hans and started helping him on setting a fire. "Where's Beatriz then?" Franklin sounded worried. "How should I know?" Vance asked sarcastically without looking at his dad. Franklin then clenched his jaw. "Can we talk, Vance? Inside your tent." Mom massaged Franklin's arm as if she knew something I didn't. "Can't we talk about whatever you're gonna say here?" "Inside your tent, now," Franklin declared, sounding more serious. Vance gasped and rolled his eyes. He threw a small wood away before he stood and lazily followed Franklin inside his tent.

"Stability is key, Mark. We all just want to ensure things run smoothly." "Oh, they will," Mark assured him, his voice dangerously low. He didn't break eye contact. "In fact, I've never been more clear-headed. I'll see you Friday, Alistair. Try not to worry too much about my personal life until then." Vance excused himself, looking like he'd swallowed glass. He walked out quickly, the defeated posture a stark contrast to his entrance. Mark leaned back, pulling me into the warmth of his side. "The first shot has been fired, little bird. And Vance just lost his nerve."

He looked at me, knowing exactly how much this was going to hurt. "It's a subsidiary of the Stone Family Foundation," he said quietly. "Specifically, the real estate development arm managed by Richard Stone's business partner." I stared at the name on the screen. Arthur Vance. I knew Vance. He was a shark in a bespoke suit—a real estate mogul who had ridden Richard Stone's coattails for twenty years. He was the "aggressive" half of their partnership, the one who handled the dirty work while Richard handled the handshakes. "Vance," I breathed. "He's using our data."

The last thing she needed was for it to slip in front of Richard. “Didn’t you see the rainstorm outside?” she added, rolling her eyes as she brushed past him toward Bruce, who now looked like a frightened mouse. “Oh, Mrs. Williams, welcome back. Your husband and I were just coming to get you,” Bruce said, his voice tight, trying his best not to look terrified. He also tried not to think about how she had threatened him with his job if he had not agreed to delay her husband by any means necessary. “Doctor Bruce, I’m glad you’ve met my husband.” Vanessa’s eyes trailed over the flimsy but cute doctor before returning to Richard.

Oh, my dear Zoey…" he drawled as he moved away from her. "Zoey," he said softly, his voice dripping with calmness. "I don't believe in remission, there is nothing like forgiveness. I am Lynx Vance, I believe in revenge, I believe in vengeance. Vanessa and Alexander will pay for their betrayal with their lives, and that useless thing in Vanessa's belly will face his doom soon," Lynx said firmly.