Episode Fifteen
1253 Words
Chapter 15
The Drink
The first round of greetings began almost immediately.
Dakota, standing beside Charles, drew more attention than she knew what to do with. She smiled when she was introduced, answered carefully, and glanced at me whenever she was unsure.
I corrected her quietly.
“Not President Chen. Chairman Chen.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise. Correct it next time.”
She nodded.
Charles heard us.
He did not say anything.
Soon, the toasts began.
At receptions like this, drinking was not about drinking.
It was hierarchy.
Respect.
Pressure.
A smiling form of negotiation.
For years, I had been the person who took glasses from Charles’s hand before anyone could insist too much. I had drunk until my stomach burned and my fingertips went cold. I had excused him with a smile, accepted the punishment with another, and returned to work the next morning as if my body had no right to object.
Tonight, the first guest lifted a glass towards Dakota.
“Miss Lane, since you’re new, we should welcome you properly.”
Dakota froze.
Before she could answer, Charles reached out and took the glass.
“She doesn’t hold her liquor well,” he said simply. “I’d rather she not get drunk and offend anyone.”
His words were ordinary enough.
But anyone listening could hear the protective note in his voice.
The guest laughed good-naturedly and let it pass.
Of course he did.
Charles had spoken.
Dakota looked up at him, startled and touched.
“Thank you, Mr Yale.”
Charles only said, “Stand behind me if you’re unsure.”
She obeyed.
Naturally, the glances began to shift.
Some curious.
Some knowing.
Some sympathetic.
Most landed on me only briefly before sliding away.
Everyone here was sharp.
Who could not tell how I had once stood beside Charles?
Who could not tell that the place was no longer mine?
I lowered my head slightly and pretended not to notice.
Then I calmly continued explaining the guests to Dakota.
“That woman in emerald is Mrs Hill. She dislikes being addressed through her husband. Speak to her directly.”
Dakota nodded.
“And the man beside her?”
“Don’t accept his business card with one hand.”
She quickly adjusted her posture.
With no one to deflect the drinks for him, Charles ended up drinking quite a lot himself.
A faint blush began to bloom across his fair skin.
Dakota looked worried.
Before the next wave of guests could approach, she glanced in my direction. A flicker of hesitation passed through her eyes.
Then she tugged gently on Charles’s sleeve and whispered, “I can do it. I’ll drink for you.”
“What are you jumping in for?”
Charles frowned instinctively, his tone annoyed.
He raised a hand to massage his temple.
Then, as if he suddenly thought of something, he let out a short, cold laugh.
His gaze slid towards me.
The corner of his mouth lifted faintly.
“Isn’t there someone else still standing here?”
My hand, hanging loosely by my side, clenched without warning.
I took a breath.
Then I smiled.
“Sorry, Mr Charles. I’ve been taking medicine lately. I shouldn’t drink.”
The moment the words left my mouth, Charles’s expression darkened.
The glass in his hand landed on the table with a sharp, unmistakable clink.
“Mia.”
Perhaps it was the alcohol.
Perhaps it was because my repeated refusals had finally pushed him too far.
Charles lifted his eyes.
They were cold and stern.
He looked down at me almost condescendingly, then spoke slowly, each word clear.
“Don’t forget. I haven’t approved your resignation.”
He paused.
“Or are you planning to breach your contract just to leave?”
The word contract struck me like a slap.
Sharp.
Dizzying.
Humiliating.
For a moment, the entire banquet hall seemed to fade.
The lights.
The laughter.
The music.
Dakota’s worried face.
The necklace shining against her throat.
Everything blurred at the edges.
Only Charles remained clear.
Charles, who had once promised me that with him, I would never be in breach.
Charles, who now used that same promise like a lock turning in a door.
Slowly, I smiled.
“So,” I said quietly, “you’ve finally decided to use that contract against me.”
Charles pressed his lips into a line and said nothing.
But his dark eyes stayed fixed on mine.
Shadowed.
Intense.
Unyielding.
The next guest approached with a glass in hand.
I looked at Charles.
Then I reached out and accepted the drink.
Just as I had done countless times before.
The wine was bright and cold against my fingers.
The guest smiled.
“Miss Bennet, you really are President Yale’s most trusted person.”
Trusted.
Another clean, useful word.
I raised the glass.
“Yes,” I said softly. “For now.”
The guest did not understand.
Charles did.
His expression shifted.
Only slightly.
But I had spent too many years reading him not to notice.
For one breath, something like unease moved through his eyes.
Then I drank.
The alcohol burned down my throat, sharp and immediate. My stomach tightened almost at once, but I kept my smile in place.
The guest laughed, satisfied.
“Good. Very good.”
Another glass appeared.
Then another.
Charles stood beside me, silent.
Dakota watched with growing alarm.
“Mia,” she whispered when the guests turned away for a moment, “you don’t have to…”
I placed the empty glass on a waiter’s tray.
“It’s part of the job.”
Her eyes reddened.
“But you resigned.”
“Yes.”
I looked towards Charles.
“He hasn’t approved it.”
Charles’s jaw tightened.
He looked away first.
That small victory tasted more bitter than the wine.
By the end of the next hour, my head felt light and my fingers were cold. The banquet hall had become too bright, the chandeliers scattering light across the polished floor until everything seemed edged in white.
Still, I did not make a mistake.
I introduced the right people.
Redirected the wrong questions.
Kept Dakota from accepting a private invitation from Mr Adler.
Reminded Shane over the phone to send the revised seating file to the hotel manager.
Smiled.
Drank.
Smiled again.
Years of practice had made me very difficult to embarrass.
Near the end of the banquet, Charles finally reached out and took the glass from my hand.
“That’s enough.”
His voice was low.
I looked at his fingers around the stem.
Long.
Familiar.
Too late.
“It isn’t,” I said.
He stared at me.
“The Liu delegation still needs to be greeted. Mr Henderson’s assistant hasn’t arrived. And Chairman Chen expects someone to mention his wife’s hospital foundation before dessert.”
My voice remained clear.
Perfectly professional.
Charles’s expression tightened with every word.
“Mia.”
I smiled.
“Don’t worry, Mr Charles. I know my job.”
His hand went still.
For a second, I thought he might say something.
Something angry.
Something cruel.
Something almost human.
But Dakota called softly from behind him.
“Mr Yale, Chairman Chen is coming this way.”
Charles did not move.
So I stepped around him.
I took another glass from a waiter’s tray and walked towards Chairman Chen with the smile Charles had trained into me.
Bright.
Calm.
Useful.
Behind me, I felt his gaze follow.
But I did not turn around.
Not even once.
1252
- Writer
