Deep Pockets (Kings and Rivals #1)

Chapter 26 – Lance

26

THE FINISH LINE

LANCE

The dim lighting at La Table Ronde cast a soft glow over Silas’s face, highlighting the subtle lines etched into his forehead and around his mouth. I walked into La Table Ronde, the dimly lit bar buzzing with the usual murmurs of business deals, low jazz, and the clinking of glasses. Silas sat in the back corner, nursing a drink, and something in his posture told me this wasn't going to be a casual check-in.

He didn't look up when I approached, just gestured to the empty chair across from him. "You're losing yourself again," he said quietly.

I dropped into the seat, tension coiling in my gut. "What are you talking about?"

"Your brother," Silas said, his voice low and steady. "The way you went after him. That wasn't the Lance who walked away all those years ago. That was pure DuLac."

The words hit harder than I wanted to admit. "He was going to hurt her."

"Was he?" Silas looked up, his eyes sharp but concerned. "Or were you just looking for an excuse?"

I clenched my jaw, the truth of his words stinging. "It's not the same."

"Isn't it?" Silas leaned forward, his voice dropping lower. "You told me you wanted out. That you never wanted to be that man again. But the second Morgan was involved, you slipped right back into old habits. The threats, the violence?—"

"I was protecting her," I cut in, but the words felt hollow even to me.

Silas shook his head slowly. "You have to decide who you're going to be, Lance. You can't keep one foot in each world. Either you're out, or you're not. But dragging Morgan into this darkness? That's not protecting her."

The weight of his words settled over me like a physical thing. I took a long sip of my drink, trying to steady myself. "What am I supposed to do? Let Hector?—"

"You're supposed to be better than this," Silas interrupted, his voice gentle but firm. "The man who walked away from the DuLacs, who built something real—that's who you are. Not this shadow of your old self you're becoming."

Silas looked at me, a bitter smile on his lips. “Then I hope you’re ready for the fallout, Lance. Because it’s coming. And when it does, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

With that he stood, tossing a few bills onto the table and giving me one last lingering look before he walked away. I watched him go, feeling the weight of his warning settle over me like a dark cloud. But I couldn’t turn back now. I’d already crossed the line. And for Morgan—for what I wanted—there was no going back.

As the echo of Silas’s footsteps faded, I scrubbed a hand over my face. It wasn’t a matter of him being wrong. He wasn’t. I was dangerously close to the edge.

I stood to leave when I heard a familiar voice from the corner of the room.

“Well, it’s been a long time, hasn’t it, Lance?”

I turned to see Adele Beekman, an old family friend, leaning casually against the doorframe with a smile that carried more knowing than I cared to acknowledge. She was elegance personified, her dark hair streaked with silver, reminding me all too vividly of my mother.

“Adele,” I said, letting my surprise show. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here. You haven’t changed a bit.”

“And you,” she replied with a warm chuckle, “are looking more and more like your mother every day.”

I paused, considering her words, before bringing up what had been on my mind for weeks. “Actually, you’re hosting a showcase soon, and a friend is participating. Morgan Cristin-Becker?”

Adele’s eyes sparkled with recognition as she smiled, nodding. “Oh yes, I’ve seen some of her initial designs. She’s got some talent, truly. Obviously, we’ll see what she does at the showcase, but she’s promising.”

I couldn’t help but feel a small surge of pride. “She’s bright, truly talented, and passionate. Brilliant, really,” I said, almost to myself.

Adele caught my tone, her gaze sharpening. “In that case, I’m going to pay extra attention. I wouldn’t want to miss anything.”

Morgan

I was a mess.

Nerves were getting the better of me, and God, I just wanted this to go well.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Hector watching me. Outside of a few emails, I hadn’t spoken to him in person since the night he’d dropped me off at the loft.

I just had to get through this presentation, and then I could really focus. I wouldn’t need Hector anymore. The Beekman campaign would already be decided.

I could do this. I had done it before, and even if it wasn’t perfect, I could do it again.

When it was my turn, Miriam nodded toward me encouragingly. I took a deep breath and stepped forward.

“I’m really proud of what I’ve done. I hope that you see what I’m trying to do and understand the vision. Either way, I couldn’t be prouder and more relieved to finally be here. I hope you love my collection as much as I do.”

As I walked back behind the stage, I bit my lip and found Lance waiting there for me.

“You made it!”

“Did you really think I was going to stay away?”

I laughed. “I didn’t know. I just… I didn’t think this was really your thing.”

“My thing or not, I’m here for you.”

I couldn’t explain the sense of relief I felt, and I reached up, looping my arms around his neck. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me softly. “Of course. Now, break a leg. Should I watch from here or out front?”

“Uh, I think out front. You’ll have a better view of the pieces.”

“Don’t forget, you have to model all of these for me when we get home.”

I smiled at him. “Home?”

“Yeah, you know, that place where you and I live.”

“For another few weeks.”

He shook his head. “I was going to wait till after the show to say this, but I’m thinking you living there should be a more permanent thing.”

My heart lurched and I searched his gaze. “You’re serious?”

The intensity of his gaze sharpened. “Yeah. If that’s what you want, of course. There’s no point in you moving out to Gwen’s. We can get a bigger place if you want. But where you go, I go.”

“Why does that almost sound like a threat?” I asked, laughing as he just shrugged. “I’d actually like that.”

He nodded. “I’m glad you feel that way. Instead of bringing you flowers, I brought you this.”

From his pocket, he pulled out a velvet box, and my heart hammered in my chest. When he opened it, there was no glittery diamond nestled in the velvet—just a pair of keys.

I blinked rapidly to hold back the tears. “You’ve already given me a key.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I know, but it’s symbolic. And don’t worry, when Gwen and Atticus come back, I’ll break the news to them.”

I shook my head. “No, we’ll break the news to them together. I mean, Atticus might try to kick your ass, doing the big brother thing, but Gwen will be really happy. I think she’s been wanting this for a while.”

Lance tugged me closer. “Yeah, I think she saw this coming from a mile away.” He leaned forward and kissed my nose. “I’ll see you out there.”

I gave him a kiss and watched as he walked past me.

When the music started and my models—far taller than me—lined up, I gave them a smile and an encouraging thumbs-up as I said a little prayer.

“I hope you’re watching, Mom.”

And it was showtime.

One by one, each of my pieces went out. I checked over each model before she hit the runway, reassessing just in case.

My show lasted five minutes, max. But it could have been three seconds or three hours for all I knew.

When the production coordinator ran backstage to tell me I had two minutes to go before my turn to walk, I couldn’t even hear her—I was so numb, so ready to have this done.

When the sounds of Beyoncé’s “Who Run the World” came on and my last model hit her mark, I started my walk.

This was it. I had done everything I could. I had literally put it all on the table. Or on the runway, so to speak.

Then I walked out to a standing ovation.

Holy shit.

Lance was screaming the loudest.

God, I wanted to keep him.

When my gaze shifted to the corner, Hector wasn’t watching me. He was watching Lance. What the hell was his problem?

I took my bow, and Miriam looked pleased and proud of me. My classmates and friends I’d invited all stood. There was even some press there.

My heart was practically dancing to a wild rhythm. I was happy, but it felt weird not having Gwen there. Or Clarissa.

I knew my father was never going to come, but at least I had Lance, and I gave him a little wave before I skipped backstage like I was floating on lily pads or something.

When I found Adele Beekman, she was standing in front of one of my models, nodding. “Your stitch work is amazing.”

“Thank you. Coming from someone like you, that means everything to me.”

“You have a good eye. You’ve made good choices. Some bold ones. That red number with essentially just a strip of fabric covering the boobs? Nice. And that skirt is dangerously low-slung.”

“Yeah, you know, it’s more of a concept piece. I mean, I might wear something like that, but for a very specific occasion—one where I wouldn’t have to move too much.”

“Exactly. Obviously, you’ve been hard at work. Miriam’s had nothing but great things to say about you. And I’ve gotten some feedback from your mentor, Hector DuLac, too.”

I ground my teeth.

Adele’s brow furrowed. “What’s interesting is that the two brothers can’t seem to agree on you.”

“Brothers?” I asked.

“Lance Lakewood and Hector DuLac.”

My heart bottomed out. I shook my head. “I’m sorry. You must be mistaken.”

“No, I’ve known them since they were in high school. They went to school with my daughter. When I saw Lance the other night, he told me all about you. He put in a good word. I can see why now.”

My stomach sank.

Lance had spoken with Adele Beekman? Hector DuLac was his brother ? What the hell was she talking about?

All those happy, bubbly feelings fueled by champagne and good vibes were now turning sour into a fizzy kind of bile.

“Hector had different things to say. He, of course, says you need more seasoning, to be less passionate and more focused on the business side of things. If you were running a hedge fund, I’d say he was right. But you’re a creative, so obviously, you pour everything into your work.”

My voice was shaking when I spoke again, my brain still unable to process what was happening. “Y-yes, I do.”

“Which is why I’d be happy to sponsor a line from you. I think your work is incredible, and we’re going to do great things together. I’ll have my assistant call you to set up a meeting. You ready for the main stage?”

It was everything I’d worked so hard for, but why did it come with such a bitter pill?