Chapter 25
Very few people knew she couldn’t drink. Not in her last life, not even now.
The only one who ever did… was Julian.
That night in Aspenridge–after she’d downed half a bottle in front of him and blacked out–was the first and last time he’d seen her drunk.
Nina stared at him now, stunned. A strange warmth crept up in her chest, uninvited.
She opened her mouth, about to ask–but before she could, Julian tipped his head back and downed the drink. TY chuckled and offered another.
“Impressive tolerance, Mr. Ford.”
Julian’s eyes lingered on the next glass. He said nothing, just drank.
Another came. Then another.
And Julian kept drinking, wordless.
Even Nina, who’d never really been part of the business scene, could tell–TY was deliberately pushing him.
She frowned, hand shooting out to grasp Julian’s wrist. “Excuse me, TY, but what exactly are you doing?”
TY smiled coolly. “Isn’t this how business works? Drinks for deals.”
Nina’s eyes darkened. Of course she knew drinking came with negotiation–but she’d always believed TY to be better than that.
Disappointment twisted in her gut, and with every shot Julian swallowed, her admiration for TY burned out like a dying ember.
She took the glass from Julian’s hand. “Enough. I’ll drink instead.”
She knew full well–Julian had a weak tolerance. Always had.
But just as she raised the glass, a slender hand pressed down on hers.
Julian’s eyes met hers. Quiet. Intense.
Then, he rose to his feet and turned to TY with a calm, flat tone.
“I’m afraid this deal’s not going to work out.”
Before Nina could even process it, he grabbed her hand and walked out.
His grip was cold. Solid.
She stared at his back in a daze, too stunned to pull away. Not until they reached the door did he finally let go.
She blinked. “Didn’t you come here just for him? You-”
Her words cut off as Julian staggered slightly, swaying on his feet.
“Julian-!” She caught him instinctively, steadying his weight against her.
His face was flushed from the alcohol. Her heart clenched.
With no better choice, she hailed a cab and took him back to the hotel.
Once there, she helped him onto the bed. Just as she turned to leave, he grabbed her wrist.
She tried to wiggle free. No luck.
She lightly patted his cheek. “Are you actually drunk, or just faking it?”
His lashes fluttered, but he didn’t reply.
She stared at him in silence.
Chapter 25
Julian had changed. Hardened. Sharpened. He looked almost the same, but he wasn’t the man she remembered.
Except for now.
Only in this moment with his eyes shut and his defenses lowered–did he finally resemble the Julian Ford from before.
Nina reached out, poked his cheek gently.
His lips parted in a whisper. “Don’t go.”
Her breath caught. Her gaze softened in spite of herself.
She sat beside him and whispered, “Okay. I won’t.”
Outside, the neon lights of Eastbridge flickered against the hotel windows. And slowly, they faded–giving way to warm morning sunlight.
Julian opened his eyes.
His head throbbed faintly. Expected.
He propped himself up and turned, only to find Nina curled up, fast asleep beside the bed.
He froze.
Seven years ago, the memory hit him like a wave–graduation night, his first time getting drunk, ending up with alcohol poisoning.
The next morning in the hospital, it was her at his bedside, crying her heart out.
“You idiot. You don’t even know how to drink–what if you’d died? What was I supposed to do then?”
That was the first time someone had looked him in the eye and said, “Without you, I wouldn’t know how to go on.”
But in the end, he let her slip through his fingers.
Julian lifted a hand slowly, hesitating to brush her hair from her face.
But just before he could, Nina stirred.
She opened her eyes, groggy.
He curled his fingers into a fist and drew his hand back.
Clearing his throat, he kept his voice neutral. “Thanks for last night.”
Nina yawned, stretching. “As long as you’re okay. I’ll head back to my room.‘
She walked to the door.
Julian suddenly spoke again, “You… don’t have anything to say?”
He said it casually, Almost too casual.
But that tiny tremor in his voice made her stop cold.
Her fingers tightened at her sides.
In that moment, the scene overlapped with the hospital memory from seven years ago–him waking, her crying, the unspoken ache between them.
She turned back with a smile.
“No, Mr. Ford,” she said softly. “What is there left to say between us?”
