Lancelot strode over to Florence's table. For some reason, there was a fire in his chest he couldn't suppress.
Every time he saw her with another man, an irrational urge surged within him—to yank her away and keep her firmly by his side. But they were merely business partners now, and he had no right to do that.
If he acted out of line, Florence might very well call the cops.
"Ms. Hawthorne? What a coincidence running into you here," Lancelot said, carefully tempering his emotions.
Florence, already in a foul mood, felt her irritation spike further at the sound of his voice. Her reply was icy. "Yes, a coincidence indeed, Mr. Blake."
Lancelot's gaze shifted to Ottis. He forced a smile and asked, "And this is...?"
Florence didn't answer him directly.
Instead, her sharp eyes darted tow
