Chapter 276: Take You to Bed
Winona ignored his presence and retreated to the bathroom. As she emerged, she noticed the coffee table laden with food and various bottles of alcohol strewn across the floor. Zachary must have summoned all this during the few minutes she was gone.
Her eyebrows knitted in suspicion. Was he really planning to drink with her, or was this his twisted way of dealing with rejection? Knowing her low tolerance of merely five bottles, this much alcohol would be a death sentence.
Zachary was busy texting Dylan: [She’s pissed off again.]
Dylan replied: [Mr. Bailey, did you say something to upset madam again?]
His displeasure was palpable even through the screen.
Zachary pursed his lips. If he hadn’t said that, Winona wouldn’t have let him in at all. Besides, he believed he hadn’t exaggerated in the least. [No.] he responded curtly.
Dylan: [Mr. Bailey, either learn to compliment or keep your mouth shut. Can you manage one of those?]
Zachary didn't reply, instead tossing his phone aside irritably. He turned to see Winona standing by the bedroom door, a challenging look in her eyes. He raised a hand to rub his forehead and asked, "What do you want to drink?"
Winona rolled her eyes. "Can I drink your blood?"
To her surprise, he extended his arm after a thoughtful pause. "Do you need me to wash it first?"
She really didn’t know if this man was straightforward or just dumb.
But there was something off about him tonight. He seemed to have lost his usual spirit, a hint of defeat hanging around him. Could it be he was facing a problem too much for him to handle?
Despite her skepticism, Winona perched herself on the couch, more out of concern that Zachary might actually drink himself into oblivion than anything else. She crossed her legs nonchalantly. "Tell me, what are you really here for? And don’t feed me the line about just wanting to drink."
Zachary opened a bottle of low-alcohol cocktail and handed it to her, his gaze lingering on her lips. His eyes, dark and intense, seemed to pull at her. "What if I said I came to sleep with you."
Without hesitation, she upended the bottle, dousing him in its contents. The liquid trickled down his face, a bittersweet mixture spreading from his nose to his lips.
Winona slammed the glass bottle heavily on the table and said, "Sober up and get lost."
She cursed herself for even entertaining the thought that Zachary might be in real trouble. As she angrily got up, ready to make a beeline for the bedroom, Zachary reached out and grabbed her, acting on impulse and misjudging his strength. Winona's already injured ankle gave way, and she toppled onto the couch, wracked with pain.A cry of agony escaped her, her face paling, tears welling and streaming down her cheeks.
When Zachary had stormed in, his mind was clouded with the doctor’s warning and the enigmatic visitor at Winona’s place. His fast strides hadn’t allowed him to notice her limp. Hearing her pained cry now jolted him into focus; he didn’t even bother to wipe the alcohol off his face. "What’s wrong? Where did you get hurt?"
But the answer was already visible: her left ankle, swollen and bruised with ominous shades of red and purple.
"When did you sprain it?" Zachary asked, kneeling on one knee and gently holding her foot. As he bent forward, drops of alcohol from his hair fell onto her skin, bringing a chill.
Winona instinctively tried to pull her foot back, but Zachary’s grip tightened. "Don’t move." His authoritative tone was reminiscent of his stern instructions to subordinates.
Despite his disheveled appearance—hair in disarray, a wet shirt clinging to his defined muscles—his rugged handsomeness remained undeniable, perhaps even intensified.
He carefully traced his fingers around her swollen ankle, applying varying pressures to ensure no bones were broken, before finally releasing her foot. "How did this happen?"
The skin he touched was burning hot. As soon as Zachary let go, Winona quickly retracted her foot, tugging at her pants to cover it. "I sprained it accidentally."
"Who was that man just now?" Zachary’s eyes met hers, searching for more than just her words.
"A new bodyguard," she replied curtly.
Zachary moved to the fridge, retrieving a bottle of ice water, which he wrapped in a towel and applied to her ankle. "You let him into your home?"
"Of course I brought my bodyguard to my home," Winona snapped, irritation clear in her tone.
Deciding not to push further on Rodolfo, Zachary silently acknowledged if Winona really had something with the bodyguard, she wouldn’t have ‘invited’ him out with that expression. If she didn’t want to talk, he could always investigate on his own.
He opened another bottle of cocktail, handing it to her. "I had someone look into the incident in City A. The two suspects the police caught weren’t on that road when you had the accident."
Winona took a cautious sip, hoping to keep Zachary at bay. She knew whoever was behind the sinister event had formidable connections and a ruthless disposition. She had no desire to pull Zachary into such dangerous waters. "Let it go. Chalk it up to bad luck. Besides, I won’t set foot in City A again. They can't touch me here in New York."
As the night wore on, the the alcohol began to take its toll. The spread on the table catered to her tastes, and she found herself indulging more than she intended. "I can’t drink anymore," she murmured, her words slurred. "I think I'm a bit drunk."
Zachary, who had opted for stronger spirits, was also feeling the effects. He caught her swaying form, his voice thick with inebriation. "Mm, I’ll take you to bed."
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