Chapter 150
Audrey’s POV:
I rushed toward the exit, catching up to them just as they reached the doo
“Where are you taking him?” I asked, my voice sharper than I’d intended.
Sophia turned, surprise flashing across her face when she saw me.
“Audrey? How did you get here?”
Answer my question first, I demanded, stepping closer. “Where are you taking him?”
“Home, of course,” Sophia replied smoothly, adjusting her grip on Caspar’s waist.
“He’s had quite a bit to drink. And we still have some… unfinished business to attend to.”
Her tone left little doubt about what kind of “business” she was implying.
“I can’t let you take him,” I said firmly, stepping between them and the exit.
Sophia tilted her head.
“And why is that? What qualifications do you have?”
Her voice was calm, but her eyes were calculating.
“Because I’m his girlfriend.” I blurted out the sentence before I had time to think.
“Girlfriend?” Sophia’s eyebrow arched perfectly.
“How interesting.” She glanced pointedly at me.
“How do I know you’re telling the truth?”
I faltered. How could I prove our relationship?
“We need to go,” Sophia said, starting to guide Caspar toward the door again.
“I don’t have time to waste here with you. A spring night’s pleasure is beyond price.”
“Caspar,” I called out loudly.
His eyes, glazed from alcohol, struggled to focus on me.
“Kiss me,” I commanded.
His brow furrowed in confusion, but even in his inebriated state, he seemed to understand.
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Chapter 150
He leaned forward, nearly losing his balance, and pressed his lips against ine in a clumsy but unmistakably intimate kiss.
When we separated, Sophia was watching us with a playful expression.
“Well, that settles that,” she said, smoothly transferring Caspar’s weight to me,
The way she said it, with that knowing smile playing at her lips, made me feel as if I’d fallen right into her trap.
“Take good care of him,” she added, and then left gracefully
I stood there with Caspar’s arm draped heavily over my shoulder, feeling distinctly outplayed,
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With a sigh, I guided Caspar back toward my table, where Clara was now resting her head on her folded arms, barely conscious herself.
Great. Now I had two drunk people to handle.
“Audrey, Caspar mumbled as I helped him into a chair. “Kiss.”
Clara lifted her head, her eyes struggling to focus.
‘Is that… King C himself?”
She giggled uncontrollably. “Wow, he’s drunk too! Party night!”
“Neither of you is in any condition to party,” I muttered, signaling the waiter for two glasses of water,
I mixed in honey from the tea service.
“Both of you, drink this. It’ll help.”
Clara took hers obediently, but Caspar stared at his glass with a childlike pout.
“Feed me,” he said, pushing the glass toward me.
“What?” I blinked in disbelief.
‘Feed me,‘ he repeated.
For a split second, I was struck by how utterly adorable he looked, pouting like a child and making puppy eyes at me.
It was such a stark contrast to his usual calculated composure that I almost laughed.
Almost.
Instead, the image of him leaning close to Sophia at dinner flashed through my mind, followed by her smug smile as she’d attempted to take
him home.
My momentary softening hardened right back up.
“Are you serious right now?‘ I snapped, pushing the glass toward him.
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Chapter 150
You go out drinking with another woman, and get completely wasted, and now you want me to baby you?”
Caspar’s expression fell, confusion clouding his eyes,
Clara, meanwhile, seemed to find this hilarious, dissolving into another fit of giggles.
“You think this is funny?” I turned to her. “You’re both acting like children
Before Clara could respond, a familiar voice cut through the tension.
I came as quickly as I could.”
Finley stood beside our table, slightly out of breath.
At the sound of his voice, Clara’s demeanor changed instantly.
She attempted to sit up straight, though she wobbled precariously in her effort, her body swaying from side to side as she tried to appear
composed.
“Finley,” she said, making a visible effort to enunciate clearly.
“What a surpr–surprise. We were just having a lovely dinner.”
She gestured vaguely at our table, nearly knocking over her empty martini glass in the process.
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Finley’s gaze took in the scene–his clearly intoxicated wife, a similarly inebriated Caspar, and me sitting between them with an expression that
must have screamed frustration.
“I see that,” he said diplomatically, placing a gentle hand on Clara’s shoulder to steady her.
I stood up, drawing Finley slightly aside.
“She’s been worried about you,” I said quietly, keeping my voice low enough that Clara couldn’t hear.
“All those business dinners with female colleagues… she understands it’s work, but I think she needs some reassurance. Maybe you two should
talk.”
Understanding dawned in Finley’s eyes, followed by a flash of concern as he glanced at his wife.
“I had no idea she felt that way,” he murmured. “Thank you for telling me
He looked at Caspar, who was now staring intently at the condensation on his water glass.
‘Do you need help getting home? I can call another car for you both.”
“No need,” I said. “James is already on his way. Should be here any minute
Finley nodded, returning to Clara.
With surprising tenderness, he helped her to her feet, supporting her weight against his side.
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“Come on, darling. Let’s get you home.”
Clara leaned against him, suddenly docile.
‘M’not even that drunk,” she protested weakly, even as she stumbled.
Finley nodded his goodbye to me, and I watched as he guided Clara toward the exit, his movements protective and gentle.
Which left me alone with my inebriated Caspar.
Caspar drained his water glass.
His eyes seemed to focus a bit more clearly as he studied my face.
“You’re jealous,” he stated.
I am not,” I said, crossing my arms defensively.
“And I don’t particularly want to have a conversation with someone who can barely sit straight.”
A slow smile spread across his face, somehow both boyish and knowing.
“You’re lying, Audrey.”
He leaned forward, his gaze dropping to my lips.
“Maybe I should teach you not to lie to me,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.
I nervously tried to push him away.
He ignored my protest, moving closer until I could smell the expensive whiskey on his breath.
His fingertips traced the outline of my bottom lip in a surprisingly delicate gesture.
“Mr. Thornton! M–Miss Lane!”
James’s flustered voice cut through the tension like a bucket of cold water.
He stood awkwardly by our table, his face flushed with embarrassment at what he’d interrupted.
“The c–car is ready, sir,” he stammered, looking anywhere but at us.
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
