One drink down, and the glass in front of him was filled again.
Cameron Lockridge's lips curled into a faint smile as he lifted his cool, indifferent gaze. "You trying to mess with me?"
"I'll mess with you if I want—what are you gonna do about it?" The man picked up his own drink and, with deliberate malice, dribbled it down the front of Cameron's expensive suit.
A line of whiskeys and vodkas—ten, maybe more—were set down in front of him, their amber and crystal hues glinting under the dim bar lights.
"Tonight, you're finishing all of these. Otherwise, you're not leaving this place." The man's bravado rang out, drawing every eye in the room.
Now, every gaze honed in on Cameron Lockridge. Each look was an open act of bullying, pressing him to drink, eager to watch the proud young star attorney finally bow his head.
Cameron's icy stare locked with the beer-bellied man and the sultry woman at his side.
Both flinched, just a little.
He wasn't just anyone—he'd handled some of the city's biggest cases.
Rumor had it, back when the firm's senior partner landed in prison, Cameron had been right there, one of her last loyal allies.
The two exchanged a glance, uneasy. Still, in Quinborough, crossing Veyne & Co. meant you'd never work in law again—hell, you'd barely survive in this city.
The thought stiffened their spines.
"Attorney Lockridge, you still owe quite a bit on the Veyne & Co. settlement, don't you? Show some sincerity tonight, and we might just cover it for you. What do you say?" The man held up a single finger, offering a number.
"But if you refuse, we won't mind being the ones to finally put your firm out of business." His tone turned sharp, eyes narrowing in threat.
The woman chimed in, her voice velvet but cold. "We have high hopes for you, Attorney Lockridge. Mr. Tanner here especially values talent—he'd even lend a hand. But you acting like we don't exist? That's a disappointment." She swirled her champagne glass lazily, her eyes glinting in the low light.
Cameron's lashes fluttered, casting a long, dark shadow across his face.
Amid their smug stares, a slender, steady hand reached for the glass. He downed it in one go.
The burn tore at his throat, sharp enough to bring tears to his eyes.
Cameron was never a drinker—maybe he just refused to numb himself with alcohol's oblivion.
Back when he first joined the firm, Ruby was his boss. No one would dare force him to drink because Ruby would introduce him, saying, "Meet my brother."
But after Ruby landed in prison, the way they looked at him changed.
To stand against Gennifer, he'd become Veyne & Co.'s most valued attorney—second only to Gennifer herself. Even if he was always runner-up, people would still bow and scrape, hoping for his help. No one dared cross him then.
Now, another drink down, a manicured hand—nails painted blood red—offered him the next.
He looked up; the woman arched a brow at him. "Come on, Attorney Lockridge. Show us you mean it."
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