A Pawn in Your Game

The day the Labarres went bankrupt, he spent over a million dollars setting off fireworks all night in Breskland.

He had said, "It wasn't for you. I just can't stand Zach."

That was how the two of us ended up as partners in crime, with no romantic affection for each other.

That night, he invited me to a bar to relax and even thoughtfully arranged for eight male hosts.

A few glasses of wine later, my true nature emerged. With one macho man in my left hand and a pretty boy in my right, I was having the time of my life.

The door to the private room swung open, and through my drunken haze, I thought I saw Zach's annoying face.

Sure enough, it was him.

"Who invited him to ruin the mood?" I asked irritably.

Colton, ever so considerate, tugged at the hem of my dress, which was dangerously close to riding up my thighs, and smugly said, "It was me. We needed someone to pour drinks."

I glanced at Colton, who looked as pleased as a cat that just caught a mouse, and didn't quite follow his logic.

Colton wasted no time yelling at Zach, who stood awkwardly by the door like a bouncer, "Why are you just standing there? Hurry up and pour the drinks!"

Leaning close to my ear, he added gleefully, "He's asking my dad for a favor right now. He wouldn't dare disobey me."

So, this was all about humiliating Zach. Was it Colton's way of standing up for me? I decided to interpret it that way, though not without some skepticism.

While I was lost in thought, Zach had already picked up a bottle and bowed halfway before me, filling my glass with precision.

It appeared he knew when to be firm and when to bend when necessary.

Under the shifting lights, his chiseled face looked impassive, his eyes revealing nothing, as though he had transcended all worldly desires. It was laughable that, even in this situation, he still clung to his pride.

Deliberately, I tipped my glass over, spilling wine onto his pristine white shirt.

His brows furrowed slightly, a clear expression of displeasure.

"Oops, my bad. Pour me another one, would you?"

The veins on his hand gripping the bottle bulged, his jaw tightening as if to suppress a retort. Every slight movement betrayed his frustration.

When he refilled my glass, I took a sip of the sharp liquor and, emboldened, grabbed his collar, pulling him closer.

At this proximity, I could feel his warm breath against my face.

I suddenly leaned forward, and he instinctively turned his head, avoiding me.

The gesture ignited my temper. Unable to resist, I spat a mouthful of wine right into his face.

Droplets slid down his sharply defined features and disappeared into his collar, leaving behind an oddly charged atmosphere.

Calmly, I grabbed a tissue, wiped my mouth, and casually tossed it at his face.

"Sorry, couldn't help myself."

Zach shot to his feet, hurling the bottle to the ground with a loud crash. The shards flew everywhere, one slicing into my exposed calf.

"I've already paid you back. If you keep humiliating me, it'll be crossing a line."

"Am I crossing a line?" I turned to Colton.

Colton quickly shook his head. "How could it be? If it weren't for you helping him back then, he'd probably be begging under some bridge."

I turned my gaze back to Zach. "Did you hear that? You owe me more than just money. You owe me your life."

Lifting my injured leg, I showed him the blood trickling down in a thin line.

"Lick it clean, or I'll make sure you're carried out of here on a stretcher."

Colton let out a disgusted sound, scrunching up his face. "That's gross."

I shot him a glare. "You don't get it. Saliva's antiseptic."

While we bantered back and forth, Zach turned to leave.

Colton's bodyguards blocked the door, clearly unwilling to let him off so easily.

A commotion erupted outside, and then Wynona burst through the door, right on cue.

Positioning herself protectively in front of Zach like a mother hen shielding her chick, she declared, "If you so much as lay a finger on Zach, you'll have to deal with me."