"Since Mr. Lambert wants a drink, you're going to down this entire bottle. Consider it your apology."
It was a high-proof red. Forget the whole bottle; half of it would be enough to tear a stomach lining apart.
"I'm a server. I don't drink with guests."
Crack.
Vivienne shook out her hand, lip curled in disgust.
"You don't know when to take a gift. Fine. You won't drink? Then get on your knees and lick Mr. Lambert's shoes clean. Do that, and I'll let you go."
Every eye in the room locked onto me, waiting to see how the once-untouchable Stella Graves would be brought to her knees.
Half my face burned like it was on fire.
Howard stood just a few steps away, swirling the wine in his glass.
He didn't say a word. He just watched me with that half-smile that wasn't really a smile at all.
In that moment, the last flicker of hope inside me died.
Fine.
Fine.
I grabbed the bottle from the table, snatched up the corkscrew, and twisted the cork free in one clean motion.
"If I finish this, we're done here. Right?"
I stared straight at Vivienne.
"Of course." She folded her arms, her face alight with the look of someone settling in to enjoy a show.
I tipped my head back and pressed the bottle to my lips.