Averi realized something was off when Milo ordered the wine.
She had a low tolerance for alcohol and avoided drinking unless it was necessary for social events—something Milo knew well. Yet today, he went ahead and ordered an entire bottle of Latour.
Averi quickly figured out what was going on. Ironically, he was displeased with her reaction. As his fiancée, with an outside girlfriend showing up to confront her, she was expected to be angry, upset, or at least throw a few sarcastic remarks his way—even if that would have only annoyed him.
But in his world, there could only be people Milo rejected, not those who rejected him.
At this point, it was too late to make amends, so Averi decided to play along. Halfway through the appetizer, she was already halfway through her glass, the sharp liquid churning in her stomach. She barely touched the subsequent courses; most were taken away as untouched as they had arrived.
The final course was Mont Blanc, with rich, velvety chestnut cream, visibly dense. Just looking at it made Averi nauseous. She picked up her fork as a gesture, but didn't take a single bite.
Noticing her pale face, Milo thought he might've pushed things too far. He called for the bill and had her Mont Blanc dessert packed up. As they were leaving, he handed it to her. "Here—take it for later. You didn't eat much," he said with a gentle smile.
It was a clumsy attempt at reconciliation, but Averi didn't embarrass him. She took it with a polite thank you.
Kerry arrived before his driver, and Averi offered him a ride, which he declined. She assumed he had other plans later that night, so after a few polite words, she left first.
In truth, the night breeze had sobered Milo up, leaving him feeling rather ridiculous.
A simple compliment would have smoothed things over, but no—she chose to drink and subtly push back.
Milo's lips curved into a smile as he lit a cigarette.
*
As the car merged onto the ring road, countless taillights shimmered, resembling two rivers of red stars. Averi felt dizzy and nauseous from the movement.
"Jordan, find a convenient place to pull over ahead."
Jordan asked, puzzled, "Averi, what's wrong?"
"I'm not feeling well. I want to get out and walk a bit."
Jordan seized an opportunity to change lanes, quickly exiting the ring road and finding a spot with fewer cars to pull over.
Averi said, "You can go back. Don't worry about me." With that, she closed the car door and walked away.
Jordan hesitated, wanting to wait a bit longer, but the drivers behind her were already honking impatiently, forcing her to leave.
Averi wandered aimlessly and accidentally turned into a residential area. The narrow, one-way lane rarely had passing cars or pedestrians. The streetlight cast a soft glow through the poplar branches, creating a golden rain of light.
She rarely had such leisurely moments, her thoughts chaotic yet slow, but her mood was good. She inexplicably thought of Rhianna, recalling her crying in front of her, then Milo mentioning that she actually recorded it. She chuckled softly. She believed Rhianna's tears were genuine, as was her subtle scheming.
People are just too complicated to sum up in a sentence or two. Take her and Milo—on the surface, they looked polished and put together, but underneath, they were both rotten to the core.
She was even more rotten than Milo, for no one knew her rot.
Oh, that's not right.
She slowly remembered—someone did know.
*
When the doorbell rang, Dallas had just finished showering and was coming out of the bathroom.
He glanced through the peephole, pressed his lips together, and waited a moment before opening the door.
Soft, warm light hit her face, and Averi squinted slightly, looking up at him. His hair was still damp, and his T-shirt had spots of water on it, his whole presence carrying a fresh, soapy scent.
He blocked the doorway, and Averi smiled, asking, "Aren't you going to invite me in?"
Dallas looked at her and stepped back.
"Thank you," Averi smiled sweetly, stepping in with her heels, acting as if she owned the place.
Closing the door, Dallas asked blankly, "What are you doing here?"
Averi raised a small box in her hand. "I brought you cake."
Dallas lowered his gaze.
Seeing that he wasn't biting, Averi dropped the act, stepped closer to his chest, and softly said, "You know why." She looked up at him, pausing before continuing, "Of course, I'm here to have you." Her voice was so soft, it felt like a prickly mist sneaking into his ear.
How could she always say such things so effortlessly?
The furrows between Dallas's brows deepened.
In the living room, only a dim floor lamp was lit. Her features appeared blurred under the warm glow, exuding a different charm and allure than during the day.
At such close distance, Dallas could easily catch the scent of alcohol on her breath. His voice was low as he asked, "Have you been drinking?"
He didn't dislike women drinking, but he chose to remain silent. "Yeah. Don't you like women drinking?" Averi curled her rosy lips, smiling. "What a coincidence—I'm full of things you don't like."
He didn't dislike women drinking, but he chose to remain silent.
Her lips came closer, softly pressing against his, then her moist tongue slipped out, tracing his lower lip back and forth until he, too, tasted the alcohol.
Tonight, she didn't need much effort to part his teeth. Their tongues quickly entwined, the kiss filled with the sound of their fervor.
Averi's breathing grew heavier as she clung tightly to the back of his neck, as if holding onto a lifeline.
"Mm… ah…" she murmured unconsciously, letting him know just how good she felt.
Dallas's breath caught for a moment, then he became even more daring, capturing her breath, drinking in her scent mixed with a hint of alcohol and the faint trace of cologne…
Cologne.
The word hit him like a bucket of ice water. Dallas abruptly lifted his head and shoved her away, mercilessly.
As hot as the last second had been, this one was equally cold.
She had just been with another man.
Who was it? The young man from the club?
If that was the case, why come to him? Had she gotten bored, tired? Or did she simply need more than one man to entertain her?
How… how could she be so shameless! So damn dirty!
Fury devoured his reason, and he didn't even realize he was hurling words he'd never use. More than anger, he felt disgust. He loathed her, but he loathed himself even more.
He had known all along, hadn't he? He was just a toy to her, a dog. Yet he had opened the door, let her in, even opened his mouth, hungrily swallowing her tongue and her kiss.
He was the shameless one—even more than she was.
