Chapter 246

Hannah exited the elevator, fatigue slamming into her like a collapsing wall. Convincing those shareholders had left her completely depleted.

As she made her way through the spinning glass, she caught sight of a gentle mist beginning to descend.

Her vehicle was undergoing service, so she reached into her purse to summon an Uber. A voice reached her before she could tap the screen. "Hannah."

Hannah lifted her head, eyes straining through the drizzle.

Claude stood a few steps away, a jet-black umbrella shielding him,his stance effortlessly refined. A dark gray Bentley purred at the edge of the sidewalk, its passenger door swung wide.

"Claude?" Hannah raised an eyebrow.

"Why didn't you answer my text?" Claude closed the distance,smoothly offering shelter beneath the umbrella.

"Apologies. Something came up." Her thoughts circled back to how her earlier conversation with Vincent had knocked it from her mind.

"You forgot, huh?" Claude replied,his tone edged with teasing."I booked that restaurant you enjoy. Care to join me?"

"I'm completely spent. Maybe a rain check?" Hannah instinctively retreated a step, keeping a sliver of distance.

Claude's grin didn't flicker. He moved with her, realigning to keep her under the umbrella.

"The table's already been booked. I ordered your usual-white truffle chicken pasta. Come with me, and afterward, I've got a place to show you." His voice carried a low insistence, difficult to dismiss.

He reached out, placing a courteous but assertive hand against the outside of her elbow.

Inside Hannah's chest, that old discomfort flared. Claude hadn't changed. Still unyielding, just as he'd been during childhood. Her brows drew together, her tone laced with weariness and a spark of annoyance. "Let's dine together another day."

"The drizzle's worsening. Let's get going," Claude urged,undeterred. His grasp on her elbow firmed slightly as he nudged her toward the vehicle.

Right then, Vincent's Cullinan eased from its parking space. The rear pane slid down partially.

Vincent, only half paying attention as Miles rambled beside him,glanced over toward the building's front. His gaze sharpened,his jaw set.

From Vincent's view, Claude was far too near, essentially wrapping Hannah beneath the umbrella, his arm nearly encircling her. His palm hovered at her elbow's edge.

And every signal from Hannah's body spelled unease. Her brow was knit, her posture stiff. She tried to edge away, but Claude's hold prevented her retreat.

Vincent's face clouded over. Hannah wasn't okay with this.Claude was pressing the boundary. Despite what Hannah might've claimed about Claude being harmless, this felt invasive.

Miles noticed the interaction but dismissed it as old familiarity,seeing no cause for alarm.

Vincent's expression turned thunderous. "Pull over," he snapped at the driver.

Before the vehicle even came to a halt, Vincent leapt out, rain soaking his blazer as he strode toward Hannah with controlled fury.

Meanwhile,still keeping his persuasive rhythm, Claude said,"I'm not merely your childhood pal. I'm your business partner. You're not gonna leave me hanging,are you?"

Hannah exhaled, defeated. "Fine. I'll come." She figured there was no point dragging this out.

As she stepped closer to his Bentley, an icy presence surged forward.

"Get your hands off her!" Vincent's words slashed through the rainfall,low and absolute.

Both Hannah and Claude turned in surprise. Without acknowledging Claude, Vincent swatted his hand off Hannah's arm with unmistakable force.

In that instant, Hannah was enveloped in Vincent's energy, his protective demeanor dominating the space.

Inwardly, Hannah wondered if Vincent thought she was being cornered.

Claude's fingers hovered in the air, Hannah's touch still ghosting on his skin. He raised his gaze, locking eyes with Vincent in a deliberate stare.

Instead of backing down, Claude's mouth curved with faint intrigue. So, this was Vincent. The one who'd once had Hannah and then lost her. The real power behind the Jones Group.Worse, Vincent had consistently outplayed him in business deals. At last, their paths crossed.

"Well, well, Mr. Jones," Claude muttered, voice smooth but

"Well, well, Mr. Jones," Claude muttered, voice smooth but edged. "I've heard plenty. Gotta admit, you do live up to the talk. It's a pleasure. Though..."

He trailed off, eyeing Vincent's arm protectively stationed in front of Hannah. "What's with this protectiveness? I'm offering her dinner. No reason to bare your fangs. Anyone might think l stole your wife. Oh, wait. Ex-wife."

He dragged the last phrase out, each syllable like a dagger.