Chapter 708 Do You Know Who I Am
"Daryl, seriously, I don't need you here. Just go home," Desiree snapped, her patience wearing thin.
She came out tonight to unwind, not to have Daryl hovering over her.
But instead of leaving, Daryl plopped down next to her and cracked open a beer. "I'll drink with you. Whenever you're ready to head home, I'll take you."
Desiree was momentarily at a loss for words.
Suddenly, the urge to drink vanished. She set her bottle aside, her gaze drifting over the throng of people moving rhythmically to the thumping beat on the dance floor.
If only Harold were here right now.
"Desiree, wanna dance?" Daryl suggested.
As he approached, he spotted Harold.
Harold was either really persistent or it was just fate that they ended up at the same bar when feeling down.
No matter how strong the connection, Daryl was determined to break it.
He wanted Harold to see them dancing together, their bodies close.
Desiree shook her head. "You go ahead, I just want to sit for a bit."
"If you're not dancing, neither am I. I only want to dance with you," Daryl said, inching closer.
The space between them shrank.
Daryl even reached out tentatively towards Desiree.
Just as their fingers were about to touch, Desiree suddenly stood up.
"Desiree, where are you going?" Daryl thought she was mad and started to get up to follow.
Desiree shook her head. "I'm just getting a juice from the bar. I'll be right back. No need to come with me, just stay here."
Daryl finally relaxed.
He pulled out the jewelry he had bought earlier, ready to surprise her when she returned.
Meanwhile, Desiree walked alone towards the bar. Out of nowhere, a guy approached and tried to get handsy.
She wasn't one to take crap from anyone. With a swift, practiced motion, she seized his wrist and brought her stiletto heel down on his foot with a ferocious intensity, grinding it hard enough to almost break bones.
"Don't pretend to be pure. Good girls don't come to bars so late." the guy spat, wincing in pain.
He smelled the alcohol on Desiree and saw her flushed cheeks, figuring she was pretty drunk.
No way was he going to let a drunk woman get the best of him.
He grabbed her waist, but Desiree picked up a bottle and smashed it over his head. "Try messing with me in your next life!"
The bottle hit with a dull thud, and the guy was furious.
Not only was he in pain, but his pride was seriously wounded.
He was hell-bent on causing trouble for her now. Just as the guy was about to punch Desiree, someone rushed over and kicked him to the ground, slapping his face a few times. "You sober now?"
The guy, dazed from the beating, looked up to see Harold's furious face and immediately cowered, forcing a smile. "I'm sober now. This woman is yours. I'll leave and won't bother you two. Enjoy."
"Women are their own people. You have no right to talk like that," Harold said, grabbing his collar and giving him a stern warning.
He stepped in because he couldn't stand seeing an innocent woman being harassed.
He wasn't here to claim anyone.
Except for Desiree, he didn't want anyone else.
"Yeah, you're right," the guy said, scrambling to his feet and running off, muttering curses under his breath.
He thought, 'He's just pretending to be noble! All guys come here for the same reason: to hook up!'
Harold didn't chase after him. Instead, he turned to warn the girl to be careful at night in the bar.
But then he saw Desiree.
"Harold? Am I seeing things? How are you here?" Desiree walked up to him slowly.
She looked at Harold, the face she missed day and night, and the longing in her heart surged like a waterfall.
Desiree kept telling herself it must be a dream, but she couldn't help reaching out to touch Harold, to see if he was real.
"It's me. We probably came here for the same reason," Harold said with a bitter smile.
He had driven by, saw the lights inside, and thought if Desiree were here, she'd want to come in for a drink.
And then he found her. They both reeked of alcohol. Maybe they even drank the same thing.
"Is it really you? Harold, why did we end up like this? I love you so much. I just want to be with you, but..." Desiree was drunk now.
She rambled on, saying everything, whether it should be said or not.
Harold listened quietly.
When Desiree almost twisted her ankle, he reached out just in time, holding her waist, his head unconsciously lowering. "Be careful."
Desiree lifted her eyelids, and their eyes met.
At that moment, they only saw each other.
"Desiree." Harold's throat tightened. He held her waist tighter, unable to resist lowering his head to kiss her.
Desiree didn't pull away.
The moment their lips touched, their emotions burst free. Harold picked her up and walked out.
The hotel was right next to the bar. The receptionist, seeing the tightly embraced couple, quickly processed their check-in.
Harold booked the presidential suite. He carried Desiree all the way up, still holding onto the last bit of reason. "Desiree, do you know who I am? Do you know what we're doing?"
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