Chapter 26

Serena's POV

Lucas's still got one hand on the doorknob, the other resting casually against his hip. In the warm light, his features are striking. The mere sight of him steals my breath.

He doesn't even blink. "Yeah," he says, voice calm and low. "I am."

My pulse jolts. I knew it all along, honestly. The way he carries himself, the wealth, the confidence, the single father situation-everything pointed to him being a Harrington. Still, hearing him confirm it makes my stomach twist.

Lucas cocks his head. "When did you figure it out?"

"Just now," I admit, folding my arms. "But it wasn't that hard. Your last name, your lifestyle, and you being a single dad. And, well" I pause, eyes drifting over his unfairly good looks. "You look a lot better than any of those tabloid photos. They never do you justice."

He arches a brow, lips curling. "That's the nicest thing I've heard today."

I shrug, trying to seem indifferent even though my heart is hammering. "Just stating the obvious," I say lightly. "Anyway, I'm not mad you didn't tell me. We're not exactly at the 'share all our secrets' stage."

Lucas nods. "I get it. But since someone kept calling me a cop"-his tone drips with sarcasm that's obviously aimed at Ian-"I was waiting for the right time to clear everything up. Didn't want you thinking I was lying."

I huff, rolling my eyes. "He's an idiot. He's always been blind and clueless."

Lucas chuckles, a deep, rumbling sound that makes my body heat up in ways I'm trying so hard to ignore. Then he glances at his watch. "It's getting late. I should go. Thanks for watching Milo and Stella."

I manage a small smile. "Sure. Take care."

He dips his head and steps out, leaving me in the silent hallway, mind racing with all kinds of questions. I shut the door, exhale, and head to my bedroom where Milo and Stella are curled up, sleeping soundly.

Sunlight filters through the blinds when I get up. Milo and Stella are still dozing, their tiny forms nestled under the blankets. I slip out quietly and shuffle to the kitchen, determined to make breakfast. I'm no gourmet chef, but toast, fried eggs, and milk can't be too hard.

Before long, the smell of butter and eggs fills the apartment. I might've left the eggs a bit too long on the pan, but it still looks edible enough. Just as I'm placing everything on the table, I hear little feet padding across the floor.

"Morning, Mommy." Stella yawns, rubbing her eyes. Behind her, Milo follows, hair sticking up in every direction.

"Morning, sleepyheads," I say gently. "Come sit. I've got breakfast ready."

They climb onto chairs, blinking like baby owls. Milo tentatively pokes at the fried egg. "Looks yummy," he says, flashing me a shy grin.

Stella nods, chewing on her toast. "It's good, Mommy," she murmurs through a mouthful of bread, and my heart feels warm and fuzzy. Even though the egg's edges are a bit burnt, they're eating it all with big smiles, and that simple acceptance makes me grin right back.

After breakfast, I'm wiping down the countertop when the doorbell rings. I open it to find Walter Williamson-Lucas's butler-standing there, as proper and polite as ever.

"Good morning, Ms. Sinclair," he says, tipping his head. "Mr. Harrington has an early meeting with clients, so he asked me to pick up Milo and Stella."

He gestures to a small suitcase at his side. "Also, Mr. Harrington sent over some of their clothes and personal items. And these." Walter lifts a pair of men's slippers, neatly wrapped in a plastic bag. "He mentioned you might need these for the next time he comes over, or if the children stay again."

I raise my brows. "He really thought of everything, huh?"

Walter inclines his head. "He's quite thorough, yes."

I can't deny the flutter in my chest. Lucas Harrington, that cocky, devastatingly handsome man, is also annoyingly attentive. I motion for Milo and Stella to grab their things. The kids run over, still wearing the oversized T-shirts I lent them for pajamas. Walter smiles kindly as he hands them change of clothes.

Once they're dressed, Milo and Stella cling to my hands. "Mommy, when will we see you again?" Milo asks, a hint of worry clouding his eyes.

Stella nods. "We don't want to say goodbye forever."

I crouch down, meeting their gazes. "We'll see each other soon. Trust me." I think of the big charity banquet-the Harrington family event-coming up on the 17th. "We'll see each other tomorrow if all goes as planned."

They beam at that, relief washing over their little faces. "Okay," they chorus, hugging me tight before following Walter out the door.

I'm barely in my office for five minutes when Vincent Chadwick-my assistant-walks in with an elegant, cream-colored envelope. He hands it over with a knowing smile. "Harrington family's grand event. You're officially invited."

I open the envelope and find a formal invitation, complete with Lucas's signature in a bold, confident script. There's a strange surge of warmth in my chest, but I push it down.

Just then, my office door bursts open. Nina Sinclair stomps inside, face twisted with anger. "Serena," she snaps, eyes flashing, "what the hell is this about a 'no show' note on my name in the company records? You're humiliating me!"

I straighten in my chair. "You missed work without notice," I say bluntly. "We follow standard procedure. You didn't show, we log it as absence."

She glares, hands trembling. "You disappear all the time-why isn't your name in the records?"

"Because I own this place," I answer, not bothering to soften my tone. "And last I checked, you don't. If it bothers you, you're free to walk."

Nina's jaw tightens, and for a split second, I see the fear flicker in her eyes. She might hate it, but she knows she can't just quit. Instead, she forces a smile that looks more like a grimace. "Fine. Have it your way. But you just wait. Something big's happening tomorrow-everyone's going to be talking about it. I doubt you'll even be allowed through the doors."

I snort. "We'll see about that."

She lets out a huff, turning on her heel to leave. Right before stepping out, she throws me a parting glare and slams the door.

The biggest day is coming. The most luxurious private club is ablaze with lights, drawing in fleets of sleek cars and limousines. Paparazzi line the entrance, cameras flashing, while guests in designer gowns and tailored suits glide down the red carpet. It's the epicenter of high society tonight, all for the Harrington family's charity banquet.

I step out of the car, my heart thumping. I can practically taste the anticipation in the air.

I take a moment to smooth my dress, inhaling the crisp air. I can't help but wonder what kind of look he'll give me when he sees me-his invitation in my clutch, my heart pounding faster than I'd like to admit.