On the ground floor, Natalie was already drunk. Her face flushed bright red, and her eyes glazed over and were unfocused. Sitting there blankly, she let out a few hiccups.
Stanley put his fork down and waved at her. With his five fingers spread in front of her eyes, he asked, “Nat, how many fingers do you see?”
Blinking her glassy eyes while staring at his hand, she answered hesitantly, “Two?”
His eyes glinted with an inscrutable emotion. “That’s wrong. There are five fingers. Nat, you’re drunk.”
“I… I’m not drunk!” Natalie protested petulantly, pouting her red lips.
Stanley removed his glasses and put it in his shirt pocket. Letting out a few chuckles, he coaxed her in a gentle tone, as if she was a child. “Yes, yes. You’re not drunk, but I am. Let’s go home, alright?”
“Okay.” Natalie hiccupped, nodding her head obediently.
The man stood up and asked a waiter to bring the bill.
After paying, he carried her handbag on one shoulder and held her up by her waist.
The man caught a whiff of her refreshing scent mixed with the rich aroma of Louis XIII. Captivated, he leaned closer and drew in a deep breath. His gaze was full of lust and possessiveness.
Just then, an icy voice sounded unexpectedly. “Stop right here.”
Stanley stopped in his tracks and lifted his eyes in the direction of the voice. The moment he saw Shane and Jackson walking over, one after another, his heart sank.
Why are they here?
“I’ll take it from here. Give her to me.” Standing about an arms-length away from Stanley, Shane glanced at the unconscious woman in the man’s arms. His tone was domineering.
“Why should I do that?” Stanley refused, holding Natalie even tighter.
Shane squinted his eyes at him with a threatening look. “You’re asking me why? I don’t mind explaining why you get her drunk on purpose.”
Comments
The readers' comments on the novel: Feel the Way You Feel, My Love