Chapter 139

"If you're truly allergic to alcohol," Ethan Blackwood sneered at Vivian Lockhart, "it's not too late to back out."

His only goal was to make her realize the impossible challenge of her new role and surrender—not to actually hurt her.

But Vivian kept up her act as the fragile damsel, batting her lashes. "It's fine. I just want to prove my sincerity to everyone here."

Foolish, stubborn woman. His patience snapped. Ethan tilted his chin up, voice sharp. "Then let's begin."

The crowd held their breath, instinctively stepping back to watch the showdown unfold.

They chose the simplest version of the drinking game. Truthfully, Ethan—ever the disciplined CEO—rarely indulged in such frivolities. The only times he'd played were during casual gatherings with Nathan Prescott and Dominic Harrington. He knew he wasn't exceptional at it, but surely he could crush an inexperienced girl like Vivian without effort.

To everyone's shock, Vivian held her ground unnervingly well.

"Five!"

"Fifteen!"

"Twenty!"

The tension escalated with each round. Ethan's brows furrowed as he forced himself to focus entirely on the game.

"Five!"

Vivian held up five fingers on one hand and a clenched fist on the other. Ethan had both fists raised.

She clapped in delight, laughing like she'd just won a carnival prize. "Sorry, Mr. Blackwood. You lose! Drink up!"

"I lost?" Ethan blinked, disoriented.

Seconds ago, he'd been debating whether to go easy on her. Now, he'd been defeated?

The spectators exchanged stunned glances but stayed silent. No one dared point out how humiliating it was for a man of his stature to lose to a woman in a drinking game.

Expressionless, Ethan motioned for Ethan Young to refill his glass. He downed it in one gulp and growled, "Again."

Vivian bit back a smirk, playing the grateful innocent. "You're such a gentleman, Mr. Blackwood! Thank you for going easy on me earlier, but let's both get serious now. No more holding back."

Ethan's jaw tightened. Coincidence. That's all it was. He just needed to concentrate.

Round two began.

This time, his defeat came even faster—just two turns.

"Another glass, Mr. Blackwood."

They played a third round. A fourth. A fifth.

By now, Ethan's losses were expected.

Though he had a high alcohol tolerance, nearly emptying the decanter left his head spinning.

Even Vivian grew weary. She stifled a yawn. "Should we stop? Any more and you'll be drunk."

"No." His voice was rough, frustration simmering. "We continue."

Resigned, Vivian obliged. She'd guessed Ethan might be bad at this, but not this bad. His life, like the man himself, was clearly devoid of fun. It was obvious he'd never frequented bars or clubs—hence his pitiful skills.

Vivian wasn't a partygoer either, but her best friend Sophia Osborne had dragged her out enough times that she'd mastered drinking games.

If she could actually drink, she might've let him win just to appease his competitive pride and escape early.

As Ethan drained the last of the wine, Vivian addressed the room. "Everyone witnessed Mr. Blackwood's loss. I hope he'll honor our agreement—the loser grants the winner one request."

She turned to Ethan, voice soft but steel-edged. "My request is simple: Stay out of my business. No more interference in my career. From now on, we compete fairly. Let's meet again at the top."

With that, she grabbed her purse and turned to leave.

"Leaving so soon?" Ethan's towering frame blocked her path. He yanked at his tie, radiating danger. Even drunk, his gaze remained predatory—a wolf cornering its prey.