"I feel like my alcohol tolerance has increased." He chuckled drily as he set the last cup down.
How could it not, when he'd been drinking like this for days?
Alcohol always seemed to help him forget his troubles. Indulging in it had proven pleasurable, though not the headache that always followed once he woke up.
Tonight, however, he didn't plan on following his usual routine. He had something important to do tomorrow, and he needed to be in the best condition.
Standing up, he swayed so badly his legs barely held him upright. The room spun a bit, but he managed to steady himself.
Taking a deep breath, he walked to the door and exited the private room, the soft click of it shutting behind him echoing faintly down the hallway.
This was the first time he was actually leaving this early.
The bartender spotted him before he even reached the counter. Their eyes met midair, and she winked at him with a smile on her fiery red lips.
"Leaving so soon?" she purred, her voice thick with amusement. She hadn't expected that woman earlier to actually be saying the truth. He really wanted no company tonight. And now, he was leaving early? "That's new," she remarked, preparing another drink. "Or are the girls here not to your taste again?"
She brushed her blonde hair aside, her eyes filled with soft charm as she looked at him, red lips slightly parted.
Mike averted his gaze. Honestly, if it had been any other day, he would've taken her already.
"Next time, baby," he finally responded with a sigh.
"Promise?"
"Mmm."
With that, her smile deepened and she carried the drinks past him, her waist swaying past him enticingly.
He pulled out his wallet from his coat with a bit more difficulty than he'd like and handed it to the cashier. After settling his payment, he turned to leave, his figure swaying repeatedly.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally arrived home.
However, before he could enter, his steps froze, and he jolted.
The lights were on?!
He shook his head and rubbed his eyes, instantly alert.
His vision seemed to clear, and he tried to focus on any sounds.
Entering vigilantly, he looked around the room—and that's when he saw it.
A brown overcoat, black heels, and a bag resting on one of the couches.
The intruder was a woman?
He held his breath and carefully looked around, trying to detect any other signs of movement.
Soon enough, he heard a noise.
In the kitchen?
With a confused expression, he made his way over, then his footsteps stopped at the door.
Looking inside, he saw the figure of a woman...
A woman who could his place?
"Could it be Emma?" He thought about his ex-girlfriend, but then dismissed that thought. The expression she wore when she left him a week ago was still vivid in his mind. It was a mixture of hatred and condescension, as if she wanted nothing to do with him again.
So it couldn't be her.
Moreover, this woman's body was extremely curvy; her hips undulated like a mountain range. The black pencil skirt hugged her so perfectly and beautifully that he didn't even notice when he swallowed hard.
For some reason, he suddenly felt thirsty.
By now, he actually knew who she was.
As if sensing his gaze, the woman's head whipped around, her hair fluttering behind her as she turned to face him.
The light caught her beautiful face and glistening skin. Her hazel eyes sparkled like stars in the deep night.
"You're home." A smile graced her lips, and she turned her gaze back to the meal she was making.
"Mmm..." He cleared his throat. "When did you get here?"
"Well, about an hour ago…"
She turned around when she felt him approached, her eyes scanning him. "You…" She sniffed slightly. "You've been drinking?"
"A little."
Well, it wasn't just a little.
Claire shook her head slightly, giving a soft sigh. Despite being worried, she knew she couldn't stop him. After all, if she were in his position, she would probably be spending the remaining days of her life indulging in life's pleasures, too.
Mike quickly changed the subject. "You should've called me."
Claire shot him a reproachful look, her voice full of accusation. "Don't even get me started. If only you knew how worried I was. I left the office immediately and literally sped here. I called you so many times, but you wouldn't pick up. I thought something bad had happened to you. If not for your neighbor telling me you went out, I would've thought you'd been kidnapped or something. And you didn't even bring your phone!"
Mike scratched the back of his neck, sheepish under her glare. "Yeah… it died. I only realized when I was going out and had to plug it in."
His voice softened subconsciously, but all he got in return was a glare.
Suddenly, he couldn't help but smile—just in time for Claire to catch him.
"What are you smiling about?"
Mike's smile didn't fade. "Well, I finally feel like you're being you."
Claire gave him an exasperated sigh and turned back to the stove. The sound of oil sizzling and a faint aroma of garlic and spices filled the air.
She mumbled, "You don't like my other sides?"
Mike shook his head and answered sincerely. "Every side of you is good. I'm just used to you being… a bit stern? If that's the word for it."
Claire Mendes, despite being only 27, was quite well known within their company. Known for her good looks and great figure, she was admired by both men and women alike. But what really kept people talking about her wasn't those qualities—it was the fact that she was the Chief Editor at his company.
There had been rumors that she had sugar daddies among the higher-ups, but those rumors seemed baseless after she repeatedly proved her abilities. Even Mike had a touch of admiration for this woman.