Chapter 551 A Kiss with the Taste of Wine
"Come here," Albert's voice was deep and magnetic, commanding attention.
Yvette froze, caught in his eagle-sharp gaze that left no room for escape. Her heart raced and her breathing quickened, yet she found herself unable to refuse the undeniable authority in his voice.
After a moment's hesitation, she cautiously approached him. Her long strides carried her steadily toward him. Albert's eyes followed her every move, his jaw slightly tensed as if restraining himself.
When Yvette reached him, her gaze traced his refined features—the smooth contours of his face alive with vitality and charm. Her eyes traveled from his firm chest to his collarbone, then to his prominent Adam's apple, and finally to his thin lips, glistening with a thin layer of alcohol. When their eyes met, the desire smoldering in his gaze was impossible to ignore.
Yvette stopped, just a step away from him. Suddenly, he moved, and the faint scent of whiskey grew stronger. Before she could react, Albert seized her wrist and pulled her into his embrace. His familiar scent, tinged with whiskey, enveloped her.
"Albert!" she barely breathed before his alcohol-tinged lips captured hers, his tongue slipping past her teeth, transferring the seductive taste of liquor into her mouth.
His warm palm pressed firmly against her slender waist, caressing gently, sending tingles straight to her heart. His kiss, like his gaze, was aggressive—fierce yet passionate—igniting something within her.
Breathless, Yvette closed her eyes. The taste of whiskey on his lips made her dizzy, and she found herself melting into his deep, hungry kiss
'How did this suddenly happen?' she wondered, dazed. She raised her hands to push against his solid chest, but found no strength to do so.
"You—" she tried to question him, but was silenced by another kiss that swallowed her words.
Her clenched fist was caught in his hand and guided around to his back, forcing her to embrace his narrow waist, feeling the muscle definition beneath his shirt.
Weakened by his kisses, Yvette instinctively stepped back, accidentally kicking over the bottle of liquor on the floor. The sharp sound of glass against hardwood and the sudden stronger scent of alcohol finally broke their increasingly intimate kiss.
They both startled at the interruption.
Yvette seized the opportunity to push Albert away. Seeing the undisguised desire in his eyes, she blushed.
"What's the rush?" she asked, her voice tinged with mock indignation.
"Fine, I'll take it slow then," Albert replied, his voice husky and challenging.
His lips glistened—with her moisture, she realized, making her blush deepen.
"That's not what I meant," Yvette tried to explain, but Albert merely raised an eyebrow with a provocative expression.
Left speechless, she found herself unable to meet his playful gaze. Wasn't he angry with her? How had they gone from tension to kissing so quickly?
"You're drunk," she said, eyeing him warily. "We shouldn't talk now. Let's discuss this tomorrow when you're sober."
With that, Yvette turned to leave, trying to appear composed. After a few steps, she felt his heated gaze still on her. Looking back, she met Albert's intense stare.
Seeing her turn, Albert stopped and smiled at her, the curve of his lips reaching his eyes.
"Why are you following me?" she asked.
Albert raised an eyebrow, his smile deepening. "Didn't you want me to go to bed?"
"I don't want to sleep with a drunk," Yvette said softly.
"Fine," Albert sighed with exaggerated disappointment. "I'll take the couch again tonight."
Yvette took a deep breath. "I'm going to bed. Do whatever you want."
The next morning, Yvette woke to find herself alone in the vast bed. If not for the slight wrinkle in the sheets beside her, she might have thought he'd actually spent the night on the couch.
Remembering how Albert had kissed her under the pretense of drunkenness, her cheeks flushed again. She frowned, confused by his behavior. He had clearly been angry with her, yet last night he'd kissed and teased her. Was he still upset? And should she bring up Cheryl's request?
Just then, a knock came at the door. "Mommy, are you awake?" BoBo and CiCi called out.
"Coming!" Yvette called back.
She sighed and slowly got up. She would need to find a time when Albert was sober to have a proper conversation.
In the president's office of the Valdemar Group, Albert sat at his desk with a box of hangover pills Vincent had brought him.
For days, the staff's resentment over Yvette's return had been giving him a headache. He'd been considering how to resolve the situation, but one thing remained certain: he wouldn't give up on Yvette.
As he rubbed his still-throbbing temples, his phone rang.
"Grandmother," he answered.
"Albert, are you still angry?" Cheryl's voice carried an unusual note of appeasement. "Your aunt came back yesterday, and I gave her a proper talking-to."
Albert laughed coldly. "Well, we'll see if Aunt Sabrina actually listens to you."
"If she doesn't, I'll find a way to protect Yvette."
Albert raised an eyebrow. "You've changed your tune. What are you plotting?"
"How can you say that about me! It's not a plot!" Cheryl feigned offense. "I genuinely like Yvette. I misunderstood her before, but now that's cleared up, I won't make things difficult for her anymore."
"It's good that you acknowledge you made things difficult for her," Albert paused. "You know about the children now?"
"Yes, and I was wrong," Cheryl sighed softly. "She's forgiven me, and you should too."
"We'll see how you behave."
"Since you're willing to give me a chance, you'll attend your grandfather's memorial service in a few days, won't you? Yvette must have told you about it," Cheryl said.
Albert certainly remembered the anniversary of Hayden's death.
"You spoke to her about it?" he asked.
"Yes, I asked her to convince you," Cheryl replied. "Has she talked to you yet?"
Albert's eyes brightened slightly, the corner of his mouth turning up. "She will soon."
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