The wineglass shattered, slicing open Donovan's fingers. Blood began to bead along the cut.
Everyone else in the private room who was socializing with him froze in an instant. A waiter hurriedly came over to clean up the shards of broken glass in front of him and scurried off to get a bandage to treat his wound.
Donovan waved him off and tore some paper towels to wipe the blood away on his own.
When the others at the table asked him what had happened, he brushed them off with a vague excuse, pretending as if nothing was wrong. However, his gaze never left the scene in the other private room. His eyes darkened, fury simmering just beneath the surface.
He noticed that Giselle was still drinking with Gideon. She filled her vodka glass until it overflowed, clinked it against his before gulping it down.
Eventually, the alcohol caught up to her. Giselle swayed in her chair, her cheeks flushed, her eyes hazy. Yet, she kept flirting with Gideon. The two of them were so close that he wouldn't have been surprised if they started feeding each other drinks next.
Donovan could no longer hear what the people at his table were saying. He forced himself to eat a little, but he had no appetite.
Frustrated, he downed a few glasses of wine, feeling the alcohol burn like fire in his chest. His eyes became bloodshot as he held himself back. He almost bent the cutlery in his hand.
Ten minutes later, Giselle finally slumped over the table, seemingly unconscious. Gideon tried to get her attention several times, and when she didn't respond, he set his glass down and helped her to her feet, intending to take her to his car and drive her home.
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