Chapter 607:
Maia’s smile warmed, her voice gentle but firm. “No need to say more, Elvira. I know you are looking out for me. Thank you.”
Elvira’s cheeks flushed, and she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, suddenly shy. Linking arms with Maia, she nudged her toward the door. “Come on, let’s head back.”
Meanwhile, in the dimly lit private room, Roland’s patience frayed like a worn rope. His jaw clenched as he paced, the air thick with his frustration. Ever since Chris swaggered into the picture, Roland had not managed a single word with Maia. Worse, Chris seemed to revel in poking at him, each smirk a deliberate jab. How could he be overshadowed by a kept gigolo? He had bitten his tongue earlier, for Maia’s sake, but now, with her gone, restraint felt like a cage.
Striding to the table, Roland poured two glasses of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting under the low lights. He marched over to Chris, thrusting a glass into his hand. “Care to go head-to-head in a drinking contest? Lose, and you steer clear of Maia.”
Chris, sprawled on the sofa with his legs crossed, flicked his gaze up at Roland, a lazy grin curling his lips. He straightened, taking the glass with a casual flourish. “Alright, but if you lose, you back off and let Maia and me be.”
Roland snorted, confidence surging. Chris had already tossed back three glasses of hard liquor earlier — surely he was teetering on the edge. A couple more, and Chris would be done for.
Roland said, raising his glass with
her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt. Was Roland out of his mind? She knew well that his drinking limit was pitifully low, yet here he was, challenging Chris to a duel of shots. She itched to intervene, to yank him back from this reckless bet, but what right
watch the
eyes remained sharp. Roland, however, clutched his stomach, his face paling
chapt3rz found at
a loss for words. She had seen this trainwreck coming from a mile away. Roland’s drinking prowess
worry, she rose from her seat. “I will check on
hand grazing his forehead as if
gone, Chris. No need to
shifted to a playful taunt. “Quite the parade of rivals you’ve got. First
identity.”
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