?Chapter 924:


    Time slipped by until the clock neared midnight.


    Charlette observed that Ellis, who had remained motionless for what felt like an eternity, hadn’t even so much as blinked. Though he barely moved, she could tell he was drunk.


    Even while keeping his poker face, Ellis could not hide the signs—his fingers twitching slightly and his posture stiff. He was drunk, whether he admitted it or not. Rising abruptly, he winced faintly and muttered, “I’m heading out.”


    He didn’t wait for a response and walked away without looking back. Charlette stood not long after, brushing her hair behind her shoulder. “It’ste. I should get going, too. It was nice meeting you all.”


    Although the group was reluctant to see her go, they didn’t argue. The hour spoke for itself.


    Outside, the cool night air greeted Charlette—and so did Ellis, who was slouched against the wall, clearly trying to steady himself.


    Charlette walked over, her tone light as silk. “Need some help standing?”


    At the sound of her voice, Ellis looked up. Slower than usual—likely thanks to the alcohol—his gaze drifted upward. It took him a moment to process who was speaking. Recognition flickered in his eyes behind the lenses, though his expression remained guarded. Even intoxicated, he wasn’t entirely disconnected from reality. His lips pulled into a tight line. “I’m good,” he said, clipped and cool.


    Charlette studied him, clearly entertained by his struggle. Alcohol had left a visible trail—his face flushed, the color spilling down his neck and into the cor of his shirt, hinting at warmth in ces she couldn’t yet see. Since he had refused her offer, she didn’t push. Instead, she reached into her purse, pulled out a cigarette, and flicked a lighter to life with a casual snap.


    Ellis narrowed his eyes, irritation ring. So she had a lighter the whole time. Asking him for one earlier had just been another game.


    Charlette couldn’t have cared less that Ellis had caught her in a small lie. She ced the cigarette between her crimson lips and then exhaled smoke rings with a slow, rxed motion.


    Every nicotine hit only made the queasiness in Ellis’s stomach worse. Difort building, he took an unsteady step back—and nearly lost his bnce.


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    Before he could fall, Charlette caught him by the shirt, fingers curling into the fabric.


    Their bodies were pulled close, just shy of touching. Her grip was steady.


    She didn’t waste words. “Want to spend the night with me?”


    A crease formed between Ellis’s brows, hesitation flickering before he finally managed a reply. “You’re quite bold.”


    He couldn’t believe his ears. How could she casually suggest sex to a man?


    A soft, amused breath slipped past her lips. Why was he this restrained? She straightened her posture, chest rising slightly as she smirked. “Why? What’s the matter?”


    That slight movement brought her even closer. Her chest brushed Ellis’s hand—a barely-there contact, but one that froze himpletely. Leaning forward, she lowered her voice, letting her breath graze his ear. “Ever heard of the phrase ‘score a drunk’? It’s when someone spots a drunk man like you outside a bar and takes him home…”


    “Enough,” Ellis muttered, the protestced with tension.


    He meant to sound firm, but the alcohol had dulled his edge.


    Instead of retreating, Charlette seemed more amused. Her lips trailed down to the cor of his shirt, leaving behind a vivid red stain—bold and deliberate—on the pristine white fabric. With a sudden shove, Ellis pushed her away, his brows drawn tight. “I’m not sleeping with you. Just stay away.”


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