Leo couldn’t hold back any longer. He shot to his feet, stormed over, and snatched the glass of brandy out of Nina’s hand.
His expression was icy as he snapped, “Did you forget what the doctor said? You’re still drinking?”
His voice was so sharp it silenced the room. Everyone turned to look.
Nina, slightly tipsy, smiled even more alluringly.
“Leo, you’re still as cautious as ever. Don’t worry, I know my limits.”
One of the directors, already drunk, chuckled. “Mr. Carter is still head over heels for you! I remember when you filmed a kissing scene, he stormed the set!”
Another tipsy guest laughed and added, “It’s true! Leo is the ultimate romantic. Once he loves someone, it’s till the end of time—passionate, unyielding, unchanging!”
Nina quickly tried to downplay it. “Don’t misunderstand. My stomach’s not in great shape, and he’s just worried I might get another stomach bleed.”
Leo instinctively glanced at Tara, then around the room at the curious, gossiping eyes. Grabbing Nina’s wrist, he muttered, “We’ll talk outside,” and pulled her away.
Tara felt a twinge of bitterness and a complicated mix of emotions.
Leo was five years older than her and always carried himself with maturity, composure, and a sense of dignity. No matter what happened, he handled things calmly.
Yet here he was, losing his composure in public—a side of him she had never seen before.
She could feel the weight of everyone’s stares, their curiosity and judgment making her skin crawl.
Quietly, she stood and stepped out onto the terrace.
The night air was cool, and the terrace was dimly lit.
Soft light spilled out from the banquet hall, casting faint shadows.
She found a chair tucked into the corner and sat down. Looking up, she caught sight of Leo and Nina arguing heatedly by the flowerbed.
The argument escalated until, in a fit of frustration, Leo turned on his heel to walk away.
Nina reached out to grab his arm, but he pulled away sharply. Her balance faltered in her high heels, and she twisted her ankle, falling straight into the flowerbed.
Hearing the commotion, Leo rushed over and pulled her out.
It seemed like she was hurt—her ankle badly twisted.
Without hesitation, Leo scooped Nina into his arms and hurried to the red luxury car. He gently placed her in the passenger seat and drove off, leaving behind a single silver high heel near the flowerbed.
With the main players gone, the party quickly fizzled out. Guests trickled out one by one.
Tara returned to the banquet hall, now scattered with leftovers and wilting decorations. The festive atmosphere had vanished, leaving behind an empty, dismal scene.
The waitstaff, cleaning up the mess, cast her sympathetic, curious glances.
Her white high heels crunched softly against the rose petals scattered on the floor as she walked out of the hall.
The red car was gone, driven away by Leo.
“Miss,” a voice called from behind her.
Tara froze, her heart skipping a beat. The voice sounded familiar.
She turned and saw a man with sandy blond hair and sharp features, clearly of mixed heritage. He looked to be in his thirties, with deep-set eyes and a prominent nose.
His appearance was decent enough, but his gaze carried an unsettling mix of slyness and malice that made her uncomfortable.
He extended his hand. “I’m Wesley Lima from Genovia.”
Tara didn’t take his hand and turned away without a word.
Awkwardly, Wesley withdrew his hand. “I’m a friend of Leo’s. It’s hard to find a cab out here. I can give you a ride home.”
Tara declined coolly. “No need. The club provides transportation.”
With an annual membership fee of half a million, the club had dedicated chauffeur services. Tara walked toward a car parked nearby.
Wesley watched her retreating figure, his gaze lingering on her flawless silhouette. He tilted his head, licked his lips, and flashed a wicked, determined grin.
“No wonder Leo stuck with her for three y
