<b>Chapter </b><b>32 </b>


    Ste’s offhand remark was perfectly in character. Alessia had grown used to it and was just about to chime in when Liam tapped the microphone, drawing everyone’s


    attention to him.


    Alessia nced his way. Liam’s gaze was lowered as he gently strummed the guitar strings. She couldn’t see his expression, but somehow, a softness seemed to radiate from him–so different from the rebellious air he’d had when they first met.


    Liam’s voice was low and rich, and his rxed, almost careless posture paired with the mellow love song gave the impression he was murmuring to a lover. The bar gradually quieted, save for the asional hushed conversation.


    Beautiful things have a way of captivating people, whether it’s a voice or a face. Some know how to admire from a distance, while others can’t resist taking what they like for themselves.


    He’d only finished two songs when amotion broke out below. The gentle music was abruptly cut off, and several patrons started grumbling, while the


    troublemaker gestured wildly and shouted. Liam, as if none of it concerned him, sat quietly with his guitar in hand, not even bothering to look up.


    Gone was the warmth he’d shown while singing. In its ce was a cold, unapproachable indifference that warned strangers to keep their distance.


    Alessia and Ste exchanged a look. Ste made a quick gesture and headed downstairs, while Alessia stayed in the private booth, watching the scene unfold


    below.


    “What’s going on?” Ste asked, after calming a few nearby customers, as she walked over to the bartender.


    “She’s had two drinks and now insists Liame down to have a drink with her.


    Says she’ll order the most expensive bottle in the ce if he does,”


    Ste frowned. “Didn’t you tell her we don’t offer that kind of service here?”


    “We did, but she wouldn’t listen. We tried to ask her to leave, but as soon as we touched her arm she started filming us on her phone and threatened to report us for harassment.”


    Ste couldn’t help butugh. “I’ve heard of creepy guys, but a creepy woman? That’s a first. Alright, you all go back and calm the guests–give discounts orps if you have to.”


    <b>1.5.39 </b>


    The bartender looked like he wanted to say more, but when he saw Ste counting on her fingers and tilting her head with a look of excitement, he thought better of it. He waved the other staff over to help soothe the customers.


    “What’s so special about this ce? It’s just a bar! Bring him down here! Money’s not a problem. He can sing whatever he wants, as long as he sings for me. I’ll treat him to the best food and drink money can buy!” the woman shouted.


    Ste nced at the two empty bottles on the table. The alcohol wasn’t particrly strong, but it had a serious dyed kick. No wonder the woman was so wasted after downing both. Ste still took the money, but it pained her to see good liquor sopletely wasted.


    “Hey,dy.” One look told Ste all she needed to know. Husband cheating, and she ended up here making a scene–wasn’t she embarrassed?


    The woman, still clutching another bottle, tried to make her way to the stage now that the staff had moved away, but Ste stepped in to block her. Yvonne Lane half–squinted at Ste, who gave her a once–over in return–her gaze casual, a flicker of disdain in her eyes, making it perfectly clear she didn’t take Yvonne seriously.


    Yvonne wasn’t old, but her tacky get–up aged her by at least a decade: ayer of pale foundation, garish red lipstick, a leopard–print scarf, a shy handbag, and every inch of her neck and hands decked out in gold jewelry.


    This might pass for shy at home, but abroad, she’d basically be waving a sign that said, “Rob me–I’m loaded!”


    Ste’s eyes almost hurt just looking at her nouveau riche style.


    <b>15.39 </b>