Chapter 75

While some celebrated, others lamented.

Victoria Henn slunk away in disgrace, while Martha Nash and Evelyn Sinclair received unexpected promotions.

Their colleagues clamored for a celebration, keeping them out until late.

Exhausted, Evelyn dragged herself home to find Madam Zade's car idling at the gate.

"Get in," Madam Zade urged, handing her a thermos. "I made you hangover soup."

Evelyn took a tentative sip—

"Ladies shouldn't drink so much," Madam Zade fussed.

Evelyn nearly choked.

Vincent Sullivan glared jealously. "She spent three hours on that. You'd better keep it down."

He'd never received such treatment!

"I didn't drink..." Evelyn mumbled.

Martha had accidentally spilled an entire glass on her during a drinking game.

Madam Zade scoffed. "Listen to you—already slurring."

"I'm not drunk—"

"Drunk people always say that!" Madam Zade insisted. "Finish the soup or call me Mom."

Resigned, Evelyn gulped down three bowls.

By the time they dropped her off, she felt worse than ever.

Staggering toward her building, the harsh lobby lights triggered her nausea. She barely made it to the bushes before retching violently.

The world spun as she wiped her mouth.

A strong hand seized her arm.

She gasped as familiar arms caught her.

"Who let you drink?" Alexander Kingsley's voice rumbled above her.

Evelyn froze.

They'd broken up. She'd walked away without looking back. He hadn't stopped her.

Why was he here now?

"Let go..." She struggled weakly. "I didn't—"

"Really?" His laugh was cold.

Reeking of alcohol, swaying on her feet, vomiting—yet she claimed sobriety?

Before she could protest, Alexander swept her into his arms.

"Stay still." His grip tightened as he bent close, voice uncharacteristically soft. "Be good..."

Evelyn blinked in shock.

She'd never heard him speak so tenderly. The man who was usually as sharp as a blade now sounded like a spring breeze.

He carried her upstairs effortlessly, retrieved her keys, and headed straight for the bedroom.

Gently depositing her on the bed, he knelt beside it, gaze intense. "Eve..."

The childhood nickname made her heart stutter.

How many years since he'd called her that?

Alexander suddenly pressed his lips to her fingertips.

"Our breakup was just anger talking, right?"

"Nothing happened with Julian, right?"

"You'll come to Grandfather's birthday, right?"

Each question came with another kiss.

Evelyn's mind reeled. This had to be a dream.

The proud boy she remembered would never beg like this.

She yanked her hand back in panic.

Alexander's eyes darkened as he leaned closer.

"You're drunk," he murmured hoarsely. "Tomorrow you won't remember."

Evelyn clamped a hand over her mouth. "I will! Alexander, snap out of it!"

He pinned her wrists to the bed.

"After tonight," his voice held dangerous conviction, "we were never broken up."

"You said I disgusted you." Her voice shook. "Called me your plaything..."

She gritted her teeth. "Now you want me? Who's the real hypocrite here?"