A Vow of Deception, A Vow of Revenge novel Chapter 19

In the past, whenever there was a dinner or an event and Tyson was expected to drink wine, Winona would always step in for him.

No matter how many glasses were raised in his direction, she'd down them all herself. Even when people grumbled or tried to make things difficult for her, she accepted every single glass without complaint.

She'd end up so drunk she could barely stand, yet she'd still smile and reassure him, "As long as you're okay, that's all that matters."

But today…

As Tyson watched the waiter refill his glass yet again, he glanced at Winona, only to see her calmly sipping her soup, not even glancing his way.

She had no intention of helping him this time.

A strange ache settled in his chest, sharper than the usual sting of the wine itself.

Meanwhile, Elvis kept pushing one glass after another into his hand, urging him to drink.

After several more glasses, Tyson felt himself reaching his limit. The alcohol was starting to catch up with him—he'd never been much of a drinker, especially when it came to wine, which hit harder than beer.

As the last drop drained from the first bottle, the waiter uncorked a second.

Tyson was on the verge of losing it. Desperate for a distraction, he tried to change the subject. "I heard Mr. Rogers just acquired a property downtown—"

"Mr. Goodwin," Elvis cut him off before he could finish, "Tonight, we're here to drink, not talk business."

Tyson's hands clenched into fists beneath the table, but he forced himself to stay calm.

It wasn't worth making an enemy out of Elvis over something so trivial.

After a few more rounds, Tyson could barely hold on. Instinctively, he glanced at Winona, hoping for a lifeline. She wouldn't even spare him a glance. Instead, she stood up and murmured to the table, "Excuse me, I need the restroom."

Without another word, she walked out.

Tyson watched her retreating figure, feeling the wine burn in his chest, suffocating him.

…

Winona stood at the sink, washing her hands with measured calm.

She didn't care why Elvis was suddenly forcing so much alcohol on Tyson—she didn't even want to know.

She'd noticed Tyson glancing her way, silently pleading for help.

But that Winona—the one who'd once put Tyson above everything else, who would've done anything for him—was long, long gone.

She turned off the faucet and dried her hands with a paper towel.

Just as she stepped out of the restroom, a shadow suddenly loomed in front of her.

She frowned slightly, about to look up and see who it was—when a strong hand yanked her into a vacant private room.

The door slammed shut behind her.

She found herself pinned against the wall.

Her heart thundered in her chest. She opened her mouth to shout, but a hand clamped over her lips.

"Don't scream. It's me."

It was Elvis's voice.

But as she turned to leave, a strong hand grabbed her wrist, pulling her into his feverishly hot embrace.

"Mr. Rogers!" Winona gasped, struggling. "Let me go!"

Elvis refused to release her, clutching her tightly.

"Elvis!" Winona's panic spiked. She nearly bit his arm in desperation.

His voice, strained and hoarse, broke through her panic. "We don't know who drugged me or what they want. Don't make a scene."

Winona understood instantly.

They didn't know who was behind this or what their intentions were—and whoever it was, they couldn't afford to let them know that Elvis was onto them.

He still had some self-control, it seemed.

"So now what…"

His breath was hot against her neck, sending shivers down her spine.

The scent of alcohol clung to him, but it wasn't unpleasant—if anything, it was oddly intoxicating.

Winona looked up at him carefully.

And in that moment, as their eyes met, she saw the dangerous hunger burning in his gaze.

His trembling fingers brushed the corner of her eye, his Adam's apple bobbing as he fought to keep his desire in check.

"I need you… to help me…"