Grace remained quiet the entire time, her eyes downcast, not uttering a single word.
The more cold and broken she appeared, the hotter the desire burned in Simon Brooks’s eyes.
He liked roses with thorns.
Conquering them was so much more satisfying.
After a few rounds of drinks, Cassian turned his attention to Grace.
“Grace, what are you waiting for?”
“Hurry up and propose a toast to Mr. Brooks.”
He pushed a full glass of red wine in front of her.
Grace lifted her eyes and spoke faintly.
“I’m allergic to alcohol. I can’t drink.”
It was the truth.
But saying it on this occasion was tantamount to slapping Simon Brooks in the face in public.
Lucian’s expression immediately darkened.
“Grace, don’t push it!”
“Mr. Brooks is doing you a favor by having dinner with you! He’s honoring you by letting you offer a toast!”
“Who do you think you are, acting so high and mighty?!”
A flash of displeasure crossed Simon Brooks’s face, but it was quickly masked by a smile.
“Now, Lucian, that’s no way to talk,” he said, waving his hand dismissively, putting on an air of magnanimity.
“Since Grace can’t drink, let’s just forget it. We can’t force her.”
The more he said this, the more humiliated the Hart brothers felt.
Just as the atmosphere grew tense, Lilian stood up at the perfect moment.
She took the wine glass from in front of Grace and replaced it with a glass of vibrant, orange-red liquid.
“Cassian, Lucian, don’t force her,” she said softly, turning to Grace with an incredibly “thoughtful” smile.
“Grace, I had the waiter make this especially for you. It’s freshly squeezed grapefruit juice, no alcohol.”
“Since you can’t drink wine, you can use juice instead. Just apologize to Mr. Brooks.”
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