"Slap—"
The crisp sound of a slap suddenly echoed through the tense and confrontational club.
Just moments ago, Skye Brown, half-drunk and leaning against Dylan Wellington's chest, forced into a public kiss, did something that surprised everyone present.
Even Gareth Williams could not have predicted it.
Skye Brown's soft and slightly curly chestnut hair became somewhat disheveled from her raised hand in a swinging motion.
Her alluring and blushing face, paired with wine-colored lips, looked as if it could bleed.
The stunningly beautiful woman had tearful, almond-shaped eyes, though it was unclear whether it was because of anger or something else...
"Dylan Wellington, you bastard—" Drunkenly, Skye Brown now completely forgot that the man before her was no longer the Ian Moore from a few years ago, who loved her, cherished her, and cared for her.
