Chapter 310

Serena's POV

My stomach twisted into knots.

He approached us with measured steps, his tailored suit accentuating his broad shoulders. I noticed the flicker of annoyance in his eyes when they landed on me, a flash of emotion quickly masked by cool indifference. My lips pressed into a thin line as I steeled myself for the inevitable interaction.

"Serena Sinclair, internationally renowned designer Lumi Nova, and a successful businesswoman," Marlon introduced with flourish, oblivious to the tension crackling between us. "And this is Mateo, my friend, half-Washington."

I extended my hand, a peace offering in this silent war between us. "Hello."

"Pleasure," Lucas replied coldly, his hands remaining firmly in his pockets, rejecting my gesture.

I withdrew my hand, fighting to maintain my composure.

"Mateo's pretty casual," Marlon interjected, clearly sensing the awkwardness. "Serena, don't take it personally."

"I'm not," I replied with a forced smile that didn't reach my eyes. Inside, my heart constricted with a pain I refused to acknowledge.

As we headed to the waiting car, Marlon claimed the passenger seat, leaving Mateo and me to share the back. The universe had a cruel sense of humor today. Mateo pressed himself against the door, creating as much distance between us as the confined space allowed. I mirrored his actions, turning toward the window and presenting him with the back of my head. The city lights blurred as we drove, reflecting my jumbled emotions.

The silence in the backseat felt suffocating, weighted with unspoken words and buried memories. I focused on the passing scenery, pretending to find nightscape fascinating. Anything was better than acknowledging the man beside me, whose presence alone could shatter the carefully constructed composure.

When it happened, I had no time to react. The driver made a sharp turn, swerving to avoid an oncoming car that had drifted into our lane. The sudden movement sent me careening across the seat. My body acted on instinct, arms wrapping tightly around Mateo's waist as I crashed against his chest.

"What happened?" Marlon asked, turning in his seat.

"I apologize, Mr. Wright," the driver explained, his voice tense. "A sedan cut us off. We nearly collided, so I had to make a sharp turn."

"Drive more carefully," Marlon instructed firmly.

"Yes, sir. I'll be more cautious."

As the car stabilized and my racing heart began to slow, I became acutely aware of my position-pressed against Mateo, my arms encircling his waist like a lover's embrace. Before I could move, his voice cut through me, cold and sharp.

"Had enough of the embrace?" he asked, each word dripping with disdain.

I jerked away as if burned, retreating to my corner of the seat. My heart hammered as I straightened up in the backseat, smoothing my dress with trembling fingers.

"That was just an accident," I explained, my voice unnaturally high. The words hung awkwardly between us.

Mateo's lips curled into a cold smile, his eyes shimmering with disbelief. The way he looked at me-like I was just another woman throwing herself at him-made my blood boil.

Who does he think he is? Does he really believe every woman is desperate to touch him?

I shifted as far away as the leather seat would allow, pressing myself against the door. The space between us now felt like both too much and not enough.

"For safety reasons, Miss Sinclair, you might want to fasten your seatbelt," Mateo said, his deep voice dripping with sarcasm.

I bit back a sharp retort and yanked the seatbelt across my body, clicking it into place with enough force to make my point. The tension in the car was suffocating, and I stared resolutely out the window, willing the ride to end.

When we finally arrived at the hot pot restaurant in Chinatown, I nearly sighed with relief. The private room Marlon had reserved was warm and inviting, with steam already rising from the central pot. Mateo deliberately chose a seat far from mine, which suited me perfectly.

I focused my attention on Marlon, laughing at his jokes and discussing the latest industry news.

"Serena," Marlon said, using the nickname he'd given me years ago, "Mateo is trying to expand his e-commerce platform to Manhattan. I was hoping you might be able to help him make some connections."

I took a sip of water, maintaining my professional smile. "Mr. García, if you need any assistance, please let me know. I'll do whatever I can to help." Though I don't think highly of Mateo, Marlon has been my mentor, so I certainly won't turn down his request.

Lucas didn't even look at me when he responded, "That won't be necessary. I can handle my own business affairs without troubling Miss Sinclair."

His dismissive tone stung more than it should have. Before I could respond, his phone rang, and he excused himself to take the call.

As soon as Lucas was out of earshot, Marlon leaned toward me with a grin. "You two would make a perfect match, you know."

I nearly choked on my water. "What?"

"I've seen you single for years now, and I thought I'd introduce you to a great guy... The moment I saw him, I knew he'd be perfect for you."

"Stop playing matchmaker," I said, shaking my head. "Mateo and I definitely don't click. Not even a little."

"But-"

"Seriously, Marlon," I insisted. "Not happening."

Mateo returned before Marlon could press further. "Sorry about that," he said, sliding back into his seat.

"Girlfriend?" Marlon asked casually.

"Yes," Lucas confirmed without hesitation.

I felt a strange twist in my stomach. Now Marlon would drop this ridiculous matchmaking scheme.

Mateo glanced between us, his expression shifting as though he'd just realized something. "I'm not interested in most women," he added coolly. "In fact, I find them quite off-putting, especially the type who throw themselves at me."

That was it. My composure shattered in an instant. The simmer of irritation that had been building all evening erupted into white-hot rage.

"Mr. García," I said, setting down my chopsticks with deliberate care. "Your attitude tonight has been incredibly presumptuous."

His eyes widened slightly-the first genuine reaction I'd seen from him.

"Let me make myself perfectly clear," I continued, my voice steady despite the storm inside me. "First, I have absolutely no interest in you. None whatsoever."

I leaned forward, holding his gaze. "Second, I have a son and a daughter. They're ten years old. And third, I, Serena Sinclair, have always been extremely selective about men. Those who are arrogant, self-important, and condescending?" I smiled sweetly. "I avoid them like the plague."

The shock on his face was oddly satisfying.

"So rest assured," I finished, gathering my purse, "even if you were the last man on earth, I wouldn't look twice at you."

I turned to Marlon, softening my expression. "The hot pot was delicious, but some people have completely ruined my appetite. I'm leaving now. I'll take you to dinner tomorrow, just the two of us."

Without waiting for a response, I stormed out of the restaurant, my blood boiling as I pulled my coat tighter around me. The bitter January wind slapped against my face, but it did nothing to cool the rage burning inside me. Never in my life had I encountered someone so insufferably arrogant, so completely full of himself. The nerve of that man! The absolute nerve!

My fingers trembled as I pulled out my phone, scrolling to find Kennedy's number. Two rings, and his familiar voice answered.

"Serena? Everything okay?"