Annette swallowed hard. The back of her throat tasted like copper.
"I don't have any contact with him anymore," Annette said. Her voice was stiff and hollow.
Across the table, Declan's eyes darkened into a storm. His large hand wrapped around his whiskey glass. His knuckles turned stark white. The thick crystal groaned under the immense pressure of his grip.
Leo stood up quickly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor.
"Alright, the tension is killing my appetite," Leo announced, clapping his hands. "Everyone move to the VIP lounge. We're playing Truth or Dare."
Annette immediately pushed her chair back.
"I should go," Annette said, grabbing her purse. "I have court files to review for tomorrow."
She turned to walk away.
Ciera shifted her weight and subtly stuck out her stiletto.
Annette's foot caught on the sharp heel. She lost her balance completely. She pitched forward, her hip slamming violently into the solid mahogany back of a chair.
A sharp, breathless gasp ripped from Annette's throat.
Declan's body reacted before his brain did. He lunged forward, his chest hitting the edge of the table. But he caught himself just as fast. He froze, his jaw clenching so hard it looked like the bone might snap. He forced himself to sit back down, his face a mask of stone.
Clara rushed over and grabbed Annette's arm.
"Are you okay? Come on, just sit for one game," Clara begged, pulling her toward the sunken circular sofas in the VIP area.
Annette was too dizzy from the pain in her hip to fight back. She let Clara drag her to the edge of the leather couch.
Declan took the center seat. He sat with his legs spread, his arms resting on the back of the sofa. He looked like a king presiding over an execution.
Leo placed an empty champagne bottle on the glass coffee table. He spun it hard.
The glass scraped against the table with a high-pitched shriek.
The bottle slowed. The green glass neck pointed directly at Annette's chest.
The groomsmen cheered.
Ciera leaned forward, her eyes gleaming with malice. "I'll ask."
Ciera smiled. "Truth. Did you already blow through all the cash you got for selling your soul?"
Annette's breathing turned shallow and erratic. Her fingers gripped the edge of the leather cushion so tightly her joints ached.
She looked at Declan. He was staring at her, his face completely devoid of any human empathy.
"Dare," Annette whispered.
Ciera's smile widened into a smirk. She pointed a manicured finger at the center of the table.
"Drink the penalty cup. All of it. No stopping."
Sitting in the middle of the table was a massive pint glass. It was filled with a dark, foul-smelling mixture of vodka, gin, rum, tequila, and whiskey.
Annette stared at the brown liquid. Her heart hammered against her ribs.
If she drank that, the chemical collision with her fragile physical state would send her into a severe, potentially fatal, physical shock.
She couldn't move her arms. She was paralyzed.
"Ten, nine, eight..." the groomsmen started counting down, slamming their hands on the table.
The noise pounded inside Annette's skull. The pressure was suffocating.
She closed her eyes. She reached her trembling hand out toward the glass.
Suddenly, a large, warm hand shot out and snatched the heavy glass right out from under her fingers.
Annette's eyes snapped open.
Declan brought the penalty cup to his lips. He tilted his head back and swallowed the massive amount of mixed liquor in three heavy, continuous gulps.
He slammed the empty glass back onto the table. He didn't even cough. He just wiped a drop of liquor from his bottom lip, his brow furrowing slightly at the burn.
The entire lounge went completely silent.
Ciera's face flushed dark red. Her nails dug into her own thighs.
Annette stared at Declan, her chest heaving. A tiny, pathetic spark of hope ignited in her chest. Her heart fluttered. He still cared. He just protected her.
Declan slowly turned his head to look at her.
"Don't look at me like that," Declan said. His voice was absolute ice. "I just think this game is boring. I didn't want to waste my night watching you play the victim."
The spark in Annette's chest was instantly crushed. A massive wave of humiliation crashed over her, drowning her completely.
Leo awkwardly spun the bottle again.
It spun fast and stopped. It pointed directly at Declan.
A bridesmaid, heavily flushed from the wine, giggled. "Dare! I dare you to kiss the woman in this room you want to kiss the most."
The air in the room vanished.
Every single pair of eyes darted between Ciera and Annette.
Ciera sat up perfectly straight. She pushed her shoulders back, her eyes shining with anticipation.
Declan didn't move. He slowly dragged his gaze across the room.
His eyes landed on Annette's pale, terrified face.
He stared at her. One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
Annette stopped breathing. She felt like a prisoner standing on the gallows, waiting for the lever to be pulled.
Declan's eyes turned dead. He looked away from her.
"Not interested," Declan said flatly.
He reached across the table, picked up a bottle of straight whiskey, and poured himself a penalty shot. He swallowed the burning liquid without a flinch.
He would rather drink pure fire than touch her.
The realization sliced through Annette's chest like a serrated knife. Her psychological defenses shattered into a million pieces.
