“You sure I won’t puke; it surely feels like I am going to puke.” Isabella complained while sitting inside the car; while Harold drive with a serious expression on his face.
“I warned you about the third bottle but no! you wanted to gulp it down like a cowboy on truck ride.” He complained while Isabella gasped at his words.
“I said it feels like I might puke; not that I am going to puke. Now I hope I do puke and it’s on your clothes.” She murmured back in agitation of his scolding tone.
“You seem pretty much sober to me.” Harold shrugged, talking off the conversation.
Reaching the spot for the venue; they walked out of the car followed by a set of four bodyguards and an entourage.
Isabella grabbed Harold’s arm, adjusting her hair over her off shoulder, midthigh, body hugging black f
