Chapter 43 Katniss Drunk
Tristan strolled over, eyeballed the two empty glasses, then shot a look at Nicholas. "How many of these high-octane cocktails can you down, man?"
Nicholas coughed, realizing he’d been too busy enjoying the taste to notice the booze content.
"Mr. Forbes, can I still drink?" Katniss looked up, eyes glazed, cheeks rosy, lips all shiny—looking pretty tempting.
Even tipsy, Katniss remembered Tristan was the boss, and she needed his go-ahead to keep drinking.
Tristan's throat bobbed as he leaned in to pull her up. She wobbled, her shoulders bumping into his chest, and it took some effort to keep her from face-planting.
"No more drinks for you. I'm taking you home," Tristan voiced.
"Tristan." Bella got up and walked over, shooting Katniss a frosty glare, but Katniss was too out of it to notice. "You've been drinking too. Just get her a room at the hotel next door."
"I'll have my driver handle it." Nicholas whipped out his phone to make a call. Seeing Bella's death stare, he quickly added, "I can't just leave her like this; I got her to drink."
As he spoke, he opened the door. Tristan led Katniss out, holding her up to keep her from toppling over.
Once they were out of the private room, Tristan found it tough to walk with Katniss, so he scooped her up in his arms.
Behind them, Nicholas jogged to catch up and hit the elevator button. "Tristan, that was epic. Seeing Bella's pissed-off face was priceless. But watch out, man, don't let your sweet assistant get pushed around by her."
He was giving Tristan a heads-up that Bella wouldn't let Katniss off easy.
Tristan's eyes darkened, and some unreadable emotion flickered. He glanced at the still wide-eyed but kinda goofy-looking Katniss in his arms and chuckled.
Tristan thought Nicholas sure knew how to stir the pot.
The first time he and Katniss hooked up was in a hotel, also because they were plastered. Since then, Katniss had always kept her drinking in check at social events.
This time, she lost control, and he had a pretty good idea why.
Downstairs, Nicholas's driver was already waiting. Tristan and Katniss slid into the back seat, and the driver took the wheel.
Nicholas walked over and knocked on the car window. The driver rolled it down. "Mr. Kennedy, any other instructions?"
"After you drop them off, grab a cab and come back for me. Don't bug them, and roll up the partition!" Nicholas shot Tristan a cheeky grin.
Tristan stayed quiet, messing with Katniss's hand. She leaned her head back, staring at him like she was trying to read his mind.
With the partition up, the car eased into traffic. It was super quiet inside, and Katniss's stare was so intense, Tristan couldn't just ignore it.
He glanced at her, frowned, and gave her nose a playful flick. "Gonna drink like that again?"
"Ouch!" Katniss pouted, yanking her hand away to cover her nose. "You're picking on me too!"
Tristan's eyes darkened. "Who's picking on you?"
"Who else?" Katniss's eyes welled up. "Your first love. She called me uncultured, shameless, and said I wasn't good enough for you. Why does she get to talk to me like that? She's not even your wife. She doesn't even dare to get mad at you. Why is everyone treating me like this?"
She sat up, covering her face with her hands and sobbing softly. Her words came out muffled, like she was letting out all the pain she'd been holding in.
Tristan had never seen her like this. Something tugged at his heart as he watched her small frame curl up on the seat, crying.
He had no clue how to comfort her or what to say.
The booze had hit Katniss hard, bringing back all her buried sorrows—her parents' divorce, the hurt it caused, and now Bella's cold shoulder and bullying.
When she was sober, she could handle it; she was tough inside. But too much alcohol made her lose control, and she couldn't hold back the sadness, especially thinking about Bella pushing her around because of Tristan.
And the thought that she was just a fling to Tristan made it even worse.
She went on, "If you already have her, then leave me alone. If you're training her as an assistant, teaching her how to handle bids, then just fire me. So I won't be in your way."
Bids? Tristan raised an eyebrow. He was training Bella as an assistant?
He turned, reached out, and pulled Katniss closer. She ended up almost kneeling on his strong thighs, her elbows resting on his chest. She took her hands off her face, looking a bit lost.
"Do you want to quit?" he asked.
Katniss instinctively shook her head.
"Good." He smiled slightly, tidying her messy hair. His rough fingers brushed her cheek, making her feel all tingly.
She grabbed his hand and placed it on her waist, adjusting herself to sit on his lap, her face closer to his, the smell of alcohol stronger.
"Tristan, will you ditch me?"
Just like her parents did back then, treating her like trash they wanted to throw away.
Her words hit Tristan right in the feels, and he murmured, "Behave, and I won't let you go."
"I'll behave!" Katniss blurted out, wrapping her arms around his neck. She seemed to get an idea and gave him a light kiss on the lips. "Does this make you happy?"
She subconsciously thought that only being proactive in bed could make Tristan happy. She had no clue what else about her could attract him.
Her clothes were all messed up, with a couple of buttons undone at the chest, and her posture was anything but dignified, giving Tristan a peek through the neckline.
"Almost," he guided.
Katniss kissed him again, but she was always a bit clumsy with this stuff, especially when she was drunk.
The smell of alcohol on her breath, her delicate features, and her dazed eyes—all of it was driving Tristan wild.
Tristan's breathing got heavy and urgent, but the car was still moving, and the partition's soundproofing wasn't great. She was always so sensitive.
He had to hold back, enjoying the moment of Katniss taking the lead, even if her technique was a bit off.
He was turned on, and so was Katniss. Halfway through the kiss, she started fumbling with his clothes.
Her eyes were unfocused, and she struggled with a button for what felt like forever. Tristan was both frustrated and amused.
He had given the address of Oakwood Hills, at most a twenty-minute drive. The driver, hearing the faint sounds from the back, knew the mood was set.
He floored it, getting there in just fifteen minutes. He quickly got out, saying through the window, "Mr. Forbes, I'll be leaving now. Have a good night!"
Tristan didn't even have time to respond, and the driver, understanding the situation, left without waiting for a reply.
In those fifteen minutes, Katniss spent five minutes feeling all sad and crying, and ten minutes trying to make Tristan happy.
But in the rest ten minutes, she only managed to undo two buttons, one of which Tristan had to help with because he couldn't stand it anymore.
As she struggled with the third button, she suddenly noticed an erection under her hips.
Her body trembled.
Tristan's voice was strained as he said, "We're home."
"Hmm?" Katniss seemed confused, not quite grasping where she was, her tone questioning.
That simple sound made Tristan lose his cool. He cursed under his breath, his hands sliding down her neck, tearing open her shirt.
Buttons flew everywhere, and a chill seeped into her body. Katniss instinctively snuggled closer to him for warmth.
Her skirt had ridden up to her waist when she sat on him. She wasn't wearing stockings, and her long legs were still a sight to behold.
He'd never tried getting it on in a car before; new places always brought a different kind of thrill.
Especially now, with Katniss drunk, her altered state made it even harder for him to keep it together.
The car had a high chassis, good shock absorption, and plenty of space.
It was parked in the yard, where no one could see.
The apartment buildings were far enough apart that, even if the car's soundproofing wasn't great, there was no worry about being overheard.
But as dawn approached and people started waking up, Tristan had to move. He took her inside the house.
Meanwhile, Nicholas was having a rough night. After sending off Tristan and Katniss, he went back to the private room only to get targeted by Michael, who nearly played him to death under the guise of a game.
When the driver came back to pick him up, Bella didn't miss the chance to scold him, "We've known each other for so many years. You should know who to help. Katniss is just a mere assistant."
Nicholas grinned and replied, "I make my own decisions!"
He waved as he left the private room, his laughter cut off by the closing door. Bella took a deep breath and sat down on the sofa.
"It's getting late. Even if you don't have work tomorrow, you need to go home and rest." Michael pulled her up. "Tomorrow is your birthday. Mom and Dad have already picked a hotel. You need to be well-rested to look your best."
Bella let him pull her up and out. "Do you think Tristan will come tomorrow?"
"Of course he will. How could he miss your birthday?" Michael said mysteriously, "I bet he'll have a surprise for you!"
Bella's eyes lit up, a smile appearing on her face, but the smile quickly faded as she thought about what might happen between Tristan and the drunk Katniss after they left.
Michael helped her into the car. Seeing her still gloomy, he frowned, also thinking of Katniss.
"If you want to keep being Tristan's secretary, you can't just coast along. Learn more professional skills. It's never a bad idea. Use the study time to get closer to Tristan. Leave the rest to me."
Bella nodded sullenly and said, "Got it."
Michael smiled at her, patting her head affectionately. His eyes darkened as he thought of something.
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
