Florence sat nestled against Noel's chest in a white dress, the picture of innocence, swirling a glass of something strong in her hand.
"I don't actually want to make things hard for you."
"But you insulted my parents. Anyone would be upset, right?"
She paused, then gasped with exaggerated surprise. "Oh, I forgot. Your parents dumped you when you were little. If it weren't for Noel, you'd have starved to death."
I said nothing.
Noel sat stone-faced. He didn't say a word either.
Florence set the glass on the coffee table with a smile. "Drink up."
I lowered my head. "I'm sorry."
Florence shook her head. "Words are cheap. That's not sincere enough. This is 120-proof. Drink it."
I stared at the green liquid fizzing in the glass, and instinctively looked toward Noel.
During the years I'd stood beside him while he built his empire, I'd destroyed my stomach lining at one business dinner after another.
Every time I drank, I ended up in the ICU.
After that, Noel never let me touch alcohol again.
But the man sitting in front of me now just blew out a lazy smoke ring, his expression as indifferent as if he were commenting on the weather.
"Brooklyn, it's one glass. Your tolerance isn't that bad."