Chapter 707 Getting Drunk at the Bar
The bar was packed with beautiful women, but none had the kind of grace that Desiree did.
As soon as she walked in, a guy with a glass of wine made a beeline for her. "Hey gorgeous, I've got a booth. Want to join us for a drink?"
Another guy chimed in, "Sweetheart, you'd be better off with me. I'm a member here, and we can order anything you want."
Desiree brushed them off without even flinching. "Move aside."
She headed straight to the counter, pulled out a card from her bag, and got herself a booth. Then she ordered a case of beer.
Sitting alone, she started cracking open the beers and chugging them down. Before long, the table was littered with empty bottles.
She was trying to drown her sorrows in alcohol, but the more she drank, the clearer her mind got.
And then, Harold's face started popping into her head.
First, it was snippets from work, then moments from their relationship, all these memories piecing together to form the image of Harold on one knee, holding out a diamond ring.
She used to think she was the luckiest woman alive. She'd never been wronged, her career was smooth sailing, and she found true love with Harold.
But now, she felt like a complete fool.
"Waiter." Desiree shoved the bottles aside and stood up, swaying a bit. "Bring me some whiskey."
The beer wasn't cutting it. No matter how much she drank, she couldn't get drunk.
She needed whiskey.
Once she was drunk, she wouldn't think about anything, and she wouldn't feel the pain.
Not too far away, in another booth, Harold was also downing drinks one after another.
His striking good looks, coupled with an air of wealth and sophistication, set him apart. And now, without a woman by his side, he was even more of an enticing prospect.
Soon enough, a scantily clad woman slid in next to him, wrapping her arm around his waist, her voice dripping with sweetness. "Hey handsome, are you alone? Drinking by yourself is no fun. How about we play a game? Loser has to take off a piece of clothing."
Her outfit left little to the imagination, with her back exposed and a deep V-neck showing off her ample chest.
Any other guy would either be all over her or pretending to be decent while ogling her.
But Harold was different.
He didn't even glance at her, just coldly said, "Get lost."
All he wanted was Desiree.
No matter how stunning other women were, even if they looked like goddesses, he didn't care.
"Get lost? Handsome, why so cold? You're breaking my heart. If you don't believe me, just feel my heart, it's beating for you." The woman wasn't giving up.
Harold was too good-looking to pass up, rich or not. She figured, if she had to sleep with someone, why not choose a handsome one?
She grabbed Harold's hand and tried to place it on her chest. Harold suddenly stood up, grabbed a beer bottle, and smashed it on the ground.
The bottle shattered with a crisp sound, pieces scattering everywhere. The woman jumped, her heart racing from the shock. "What the hell are you doing?"
"I said, get lost." Harold finally looked at her.
His eyes were cold, devoid of any emotion, let alone desire, filled only with disgust.
At that moment, the woman felt a strong sense of defeat.
Was she really that bad?
He didn't want a woman who came to him, and he even smashed a beer bottle to make his point.
"Fine, I'll go. Do you think you're the only man for me?" The woman snapped back, trying to save face. "With your attitude, what woman would want you besides me? If you don't want to be disturbed, why come to a place like this?"
She thought, 'A bar is a place for men and women to have fun, isn't it? Why pretend to be a saint?'
Harold ignored her rant. Once it quieted down, he sat back and continued drinking.
If only Desiree were here, but he knew better than anyone that it was just a fantasy, something that would never happen.
As he reached for another drink, Daryl happened to walk by, heading to the innermost booth, where Desiree was sitting.
She had lost count of how many sleazy men she had driven away. Some refused to leave, but they couldn't handle her throwing beer bottles at them.
The sleazy men almost got hit on the head and didn't dare to continue harassing her.
But they weren't willing to give up, occasionally glancing over, planning to come back when Desiree got drunk.
Until Daryl arrived.
He snatched the beer bottle from Desiree's hand. "Desiree, what are you doing? It's late, and you're out here drinking alone."
"This is my business, not yours." Desiree had no intention of paying him any mind.
Daryl took the bottle, so she opened another one. There was plenty of beer anyway.
So Daryl grabbed her hand. "We're friends. What do you mean it's not my concern? Desiree, do you know where you are? You've been targeted. If you keep drinking, you'll get drunk soon. Do you know what will happen to you then?"
So many men were watching, their eyes lingering on Desiree with undisguised lust. As a man, Daryl knew exactly what they were thinking, and it infuriated him.
If it weren't for being in a public place, he would have wanted to gouge out those men's eyes to see if they dared to look at Desiree with such disgusting eyes again.
"I'm not a child anymore. Can't I call my bodyguard to pick me up?" Desiree looked at him, both angry and amused. "I know you're looking out for me, but I don't need it. Don't you understand?"
All his concern and care only added to her list of troubles, rather than alleviating them.
And Daryl understood it well.
But feelings were never under one's control. Desiree couldn't forget Harold, just like he couldn't forget Desiree either.
So he could only play dumb. "You need it, Desiree. You can't take care of yourself right now."
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