"Come here…" Alexander uttered in a gentle yet commanding tone.
Isabella remained rooted to the spot. Cautiously, she prompted, "Mr. Sinclair, go ahead and tell me what you need. Did… Did you… have too much to drink? How about… Shall I go downstairs and get a wait staff to help you up?"
As she asked that, she wanted to turn around. All of a sudden, Alexander raised his voice. In a slightly enraged tone, he questioned, "Where do you think you're going?"
"I'm going to get someone to help you. You're drunk, Mr. Sinclair."
"Says who?" Alexander replied, his voice carrying a tinge of coquettishness.
How could he say that he wasn't drunk when he was acting like this? No one would believe him!
Nonetheless, Isabella didn't want to reason with a drunkard. All she could do was try her best to pacify him. "Alright, alright. You're not drunk, okay? But I reckon you're thirsty, aren't you? Shall I get you a glass of water?"
"Come here!" Alexander ordered. "I'll cut your pay if you still refuse to come over here."
Isabella was speechless. How could he still be so mean even when he was drunk? However, she felt like her feet were rooted to the ground.
Deep down, she cussed at Alexander hundreds of times. But in the end, she shuffled toward him unwillingly anyway.
Just as she came to a stop, he grabbed her wrist, holding her so tightly that she couldn't free herself from his grasp even when she tried her best to. His touch was warm, and the stench of alcohol surrounded him.
"Now, you're behaving," Alexander remarked.
All of a sudden, he sat up, his drunken and bleary eyes staring straight at Isabella. She stared back at him with a frown on her face. "Let go of me, Alexander!"
As unfocused as his eyes were from the influence of alcohol, the glassy glint in his eyes was terrifying. "I'm not drunk. I just… want you to sit with me for a bit."
He pulled the unsuspecting Isabella toward the couch, causing her to stumble and fall by his side. In an instant, the smell of cedar and alcohol on him wafted up her nose.
She couldn't help but furrow her brows. How could he say that he wasn't drunk when he was already rambling? Alas, no drunk person would ever admit that they were drunk.
She held herself back from blowing up at him. Instead, she coaxed, "Alexander, just let go of me first, will you?"
Nevertheless, Alexander was just immersed in his own world. He couldn't hear what she said at all.
"I'm not letting go! Why do I always have to be the one to let go, Isabella? I won't. What can you even do about that?"
Isabella rolled her eyes. What was he talking about?

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