Chapter 43
The Vance estate sat on a wooded hillside outside the busiest part of the city. The road curved uphill through dense trees before opening onto a sprawling stone house with tall windows, manicured grounds, and a fountain in the circular drive.
Emma stepped out of the car and looked around.
It felt like she'd wandered onto the set of an extremely expensive billionaire romance.
Her clients generally had enough money to investigate every detail of her life. Emma, unfortunately, had to make do with whatever she could find online.
She knew the basics about the Vance family. Their money came largely from precision manufacturing and heavy industry, and they'd been wealthy long before Lawrence started his own company. Three years ago, he'd gone into renewable energy instead of joining the family business.
He'd built something separate, but Emma wasn't naive enough to think he'd started from the same place as everyone else. A family like his came with connections, introductions, and access to investors most people would never meet.
Lawrence got out beside her and bent his arm.
Emma slipped her hand through it naturally.
None of this had anything to do with her anyway. She was here to play a part, get through dinner, and go home. There was no reason to feel intimidated by a house she wasn't trying to belong in.
Besides, she'd spent nearly a year pretending to be Nathan Grant's girlfriend.
Compared with that, this was practically an entry-level assignment.
Lawrence watched her as they walked toward the house. He'd expected some nervousness from her, considering how different this world was from the one she'd grown up in. Instead, she looked completely at ease.
He found himself wondering whether Adrian had already brought her to places like this. Maybe even to the Mercer estate.
The thought irritated him more than it should have.
"Hmm?" Emma looked up. "Why did you stop?"
Lawrence lowered his eyes to her.
She was looking straight at him, her hand still resting comfortably on his arm.
The irritation faded.
"Nothing. Let's go."
They had barely entered the main living room when Emma spotted another woman in white.
"Lawrence!"
Isabelle Monroe approached with a smile.
Emma looked from Isabelle to Lawrence.
Oh.
Apparently one jealous woman wasn't enough tonight. Lawrence had ordered the deluxe package.
Fine. She was getting paid.
Emma tightened her hold on his arm just slightly. When she looked at Isabelle again, her expression had changed.
"What are you doing here?"
Isabelle gave a short laugh. "Why wouldn't I be? You know Lawrence and I have history."
That much was true.
At the bar the other night, Isabelle had asked Lawrence exactly what was going on between him, Emma, and Adrian. He'd told her Emma liked him and Adrian liked Emma.
Then she'd asked the question she actually cared about.
Did Lawrence like Emma?
He hadn't answered right away.
It had only been a hesitation, but Isabelle knew him too well to miss what it meant.
She'd gone home that night thinking about all the chances she'd wasted.
Years ago, Lawrence had been willing to give her what she wanted.
Instead of accepting it, she'd kept pushing, convinced he would eventually give her more.
Her family had encouraged it too. Lawrence was the Vance family's only son, and everyone had assumed his feelings for Isabelle would eventually outweigh whatever objections his mother had.
They'd been wrong.
Lawrence hadn't begged his mother or fought endlessly over the marriage. He'd gone out and built a life that didn't depend on the family business.
Later, when he'd asked Isabelle to come back, she'd been the one who wanted more. She was abroad by then, surrounded by new people and new possibilities, and she'd convinced herself there was no reason to settle.
Now there was Emma.
Isabelle didn't buy the innocent act. Emma knew when to be sweet, when to step back, and exactly how to make men want to protect her. Somehow she'd managed to catch the attention of both Lawrence and Adrian.
Still, Isabelle had known Lawrence for years.
Emma hadn't.
And after what happened at the bar, Isabelle had found another reason not to give up.
She'd had too much to drink that night and leaned against Lawrence. He'd moved her away and told her to call her boyfriend to come get her.
At first, she'd been furious.
Then she'd kept thinking about it.
If Eric meant absolutely nothing to Lawrence, why had he brought him up at all?
So Isabelle had ended things with Eric.
She knew Mrs. Vance's birthday was tonight, and no one had needed to invite her. She'd come on her own.
Lawrence's expression, however, made it clear that he hadn't expected to see her.
He hadn't invited Isabelle.
Under any other circumstances, he might have told her to leave. But it was his mother's birthday, and Isabelle was already standing in the house. Making a scene would only ruin the evening.
His attention shifted to Emma.
She must be upset.
Emma was busy figuring out what kind of performance the situation required.
"But don't you have a boyfriend?" she asked.
"We broke up," Isabelle replied immediately. "And honestly, Eric and I weren't that serious. We were dating, but we were never exclusive."
There we go.
Emma was quite satisfied with that answer.
It was convenient, sure, but Lawrence had heard what he needed to hear. Isabelle was available again. Progress.
Emma let a flicker of unease cross her face and glanced at Lawrence before looking away.
Lawrence noticed.
She was worried he'd go back to Isabelle.
He wouldn't.
He'd brought Emma here tonight because he'd already decided their arrangement couldn't continue as it was. After dinner, he planned to end the contract and ask her to stay with him for real.
He expected she'd be happy.
Isabelle caught the slight change in his expression too.
So he did still care.
For entirely different reasons, both women felt the evening was going rather well.
"Lawrence."
A composed female voice came from the staircase.
Lawrence turned. "Mother. Father."
Emma followed his gaze.
A middle-aged couple was descending the curved staircase. Emma recognized Mrs. Vance immediately from the public photos she'd seen while doing her homework on Lawrence.
Mrs. Vance had been born into the Grant family, and she'd never been a decorative society wife. The Vances had already been wealthy when she married into the family, but their business had expanded considerably afterward, helped by the connections and resources she brought with her.
She carried herself accordingly. Her clothes were elegant without being flashy, and there was something about the way she looked at the room that made it obvious she was accustomed to being listened to.
Mr. Vance looked enough like Lawrence that the relationship was obvious, but standing beside his wife, his presence was noticeably quieter.
Emma took one look at them and understood who ran this house.
Isabelle stepped forward first.
"Mrs. Vance, happy birthday."
She picked up the gift she'd brought and offered it to her. It was a limited-edition designer scarf she'd gone to considerable trouble to get.
Mrs. Vance glanced at the box but didn't take it.
Mr. Vance smoothly stepped in and accepted it instead.
"That was thoughtful. Isabelle, isn't it?"
Isabelle brightened. "Yes, Mr. Vance. It's been a long time. You look wonderful."
She was clearly pleased that he remembered her.
Emma stepped forward too.
"Mr. and Mrs. Vance, it's nice to meet you. Happy birthday, Mrs. Vance."
Mrs. Vance's eyes moved over her slowly.
Emma smiled back.
Her hands were completely empty.
Isabelle noticed immediately.
"You didn't bring a gift?"
Correct, Emma thought.
Outwardly, she remained perfectly calm.
"Of course I did."
Isabelle glanced at her empty hands. "Where?"
Emma looked at Lawrence, then back at his mother.
"I brought you your son."
For the first time since she'd entered the room, Mrs. Vance looked genuinely surprised.
Mr. Vance's eyebrows rose.
Lawrence turned his head and looked at Emma.
She smiled sweetly, as if this had been the plan all along.
"When I first met Lawrence, he barely slept. He drank too much, stayed up half the night, and generally treated his health like it was optional."
Lawrence's expression changed slightly.
Emma kept going.
"Now he hardly drinks, he sleeps properly, and he actually eats regular meals. So..." She gave Mrs. Vance her most pleasant smile. "He's doing much better. I figured bringing you a healthier son had to count for something."
There was a brief silence.
Mr. Vance looked like he was trying not to laugh.
Mrs. Vance studied Emma.
Lawrence was her only son. She knew exactly how he'd been living before, just as she knew that some of those habits really had changed.
The corner of her mouth finally lifted.
"You certainly know how to talk your way out of arriving empty-handed."