Chapter 454

Vincent Laurent blinked in confusion, unable to fathom what important matter Zachary Evans needed to discuss with him privately.

Only when the assistant frantically winked did realization dawn. He slapped his forehead. "Ah! I just remembered the project timeline hasn't been finalized. Sophia, why don't you ride with Mr. Roscente?"

Sophia Lowell narrowed her eyes suspiciously. This hadn't been mentioned during the meeting.

She'd bet anything they were putting on an act.

The car door slammed shut. She shuffled toward Ethan Roscente's black Maybach. As her fingers brushed the passenger door handle, a frosty voice cut through the interior: "That seat's taken."

Sophia froze.

The driver quickly explained, "Mr. Evans' reserved spot. Mr. Roscente's specific order."

Her lips twitched. Who knew the mighty Roscente Group CEO had such eccentric rules?

Visions of cliché romance novel tropes flooded her mind—reserved seats, special privileges, inseparable companions...

"Drop the ridiculous fantasies." Ethan's piercing gaze X-rayed her thoughts. "Keep daydreaming and you'll walk to the construction site."

The rear door slid open automatically. His eyes commanded her to enter.

Sophia dawdled.

Ethan didn't rush her, simply watching in silence. The atmosphere thickened until even the driver shrank into his collar.

Defeated, she reluctantly climbed into the backseat.

As their car exited the underground garage, a red sports car screeched to a halt nearby.

Isabella Valentine stepped out clutching an elaborate lunchbox, just in time to see the Maybach glide past. The familiar profile in the window made her grip the thermos until her knuckles whitened.

"Miss, wasn't that Mr. Roscente's car—" a bodyguard ventured.

"Shut your mouth!" Isabella's nails dug into her palms.

Stiletto heels clicked furiously across the lobby as she slammed her hands on the reception desk. "Where did Ethan go?"

The receptionist recoiled. "Ms. Valentine, Mr. Roscente's schedule is confiden—"

"Useless!" Isabella's tirade halted at the crisp tap of approaching heels.

Jessica Piente approached with an armful of files, smiling brightly. "Didn't Mr. Roscente tell you? He's inspecting the northern resort this afternoon." She raised her voice pointedly. "Specifically requested Ms. Lowell's company too."

Isabella's face drained of color. The thermos crashed to the floor.