Georgia Thorne didn’t dare to look for long. She kept her head down, maintaining a submissive posture.

Little did she know, he had spotted her out of the corner of his eye the moment he walked in.

It was the first time he’d seen her in business attire. She carried herself quite well.

If only she were a bit more obedient.

These sorts of business engagements were invariably settled over drinks at the dinner table.

Georgia Thorne had been in this industry for over a month, so she more or less understood how these engagements worked.

But she was still too green and lacked the finesse to handle such social maneuvering.

When everyone was seated at the table, Georgia Thorne couldn’t hide even if she wanted to.

She snuck a glance at Elliot Sheridan out of the corner of her eye. His expression was cold and guarded, completely unreadable.

Someone quickly worked to liven up the atmosphere, and the manager proposed a toast to Elliot Sheridan.

Elliot Sheridan didn’t even look up, putting on incredibly lofty airs.

The manager, holding his glass, looked slightly awkward. Elliot Sheridan’s status was exceptional, so it was normal for him to be a bit arrogant.

"President Sheridan, I’ll drink first, as a sign of respect!" the manager said cheerfully, then downed his glass of liquor in one go.

Elliot Sheridan didn’t say a word, and as long as he was silent, no one could liven up the mood, no matter how hard they tried.

Observing his president’s cold expression, Owen Sawyer began to understand why he’d canceled his other engagements to come here personally.

Owen Sawyer said half-jokingly, "This young lady is quite attractive. Why don’t you propose a toast to President Sheridan!"

Singled out, Georgia Thorne immediately looked up, staring awkwardly at Elliot Sheridan.

The manager was a shrewd man. Since Elliot Sheridan’s own personal secretary had suggested she offer a toast, he immediately threw Georgia Thorne into the spotlight.

"Georgia Thorne, hurry up and toast President Sheridan."

A full glass of liquor was thrust into Georgia Thorne’s hand. Her gaze flickered awkwardly toward Elliot Sheridan.

He looked up, meeting her gaze. His dark pupils seemed to widen, and the corners of his mouth curved into a slight smirk.

"This young lady... you look familiar. I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before."

Elliot Sheridan showed no intention of raising his glass. Instead, he reached out, lit a cigarette, and held it between two fingers.

He exhaled a puff of smoke, and Georgia Thorne watched as the white cloud blurred his face.

She gritted her teeth. ’How could I not look familiar? We’ve slept in the same bed for hundreds of nights.’

"President Sheridan, you love to joke. I just have a common face; it’s perfectly normal that you’ve mistaken me for someone else!"

Georgia Thorne forced a hollow laugh, and the man’s gaze suddenly deepened.

’That’s a dangerous look,’ she realized. ’He always looks at me this way when he’s angry.’

"I never joke."

Georgia Thorne gave a dry laugh. "President Sheridan, it’s an honor to meet you today. I’ll drink this first!"

Elliot Sheridan flicked the ash from his cigarette, raising an eyebrow as he watched Georgia Thorne down the entire glass of liquor.

Georgia Thorne had always had a high tolerance for alcohol, so one glass was nothing.

Georgia Thorne had drunk it too quickly. The liquor burned her throat, and she quickly drank a glass of cool water to wash away the fiery taste.

"Miss Thorne has quite the tolerance. You’ll go far in the future," Elliot Sheridan remarked, stubbing out his cigarette. He raised his glass in Georgia Thorne’s direction and took a sip.

Before Georgia Thorne could even react, the manager had refilled her empty glass with more liquor.

"Aren’t you going to return the toast to President Sheridan!"

’Toast him again?’

’Didn’t I just toast him?!’

She stood up again with her glass, feeling like she’d been pushed into a corner.

"You flatter me, President Sheridan!"

Georgia Thorne downed another glass of liquor and sat down.

Elliot Sheridan’s expression seemed to soften considerably after Georgia Thorne’s toast.

The mood at the table instantly livened up, and the manager proposed one toast after another to Elliot Sheridan.

With two glasses of liquor in her, Georgia Thorne’s fair cheeks quickly turned bright red, making her look drunk.

Feeling a bit hot, Georgia Thorne made an excuse to step outside and get some cool air.

A sharp gaze followed her back until she disappeared through the doorway.

’We agreed to act like strangers, but it’s only been a few days, and I’ve already run into Elliot Sheridan again.’

’Just my luck.’

She splashed her face with cool water and patted her flushed cheeks.

She took a deep breath, giving herself a silent pep talk.

’Just treat Elliot Sheridan like a normal person. We were together for three years, for crying out loud. Why do I still get so spineless and flustered whenever I see him?’

When Georgia Thorne returned to the private room, the atmosphere was lively.

She was a little hungry since she hadn’t eaten much for lunch. As soon as she sat down, she started digging into the food.

However, someone wasn’t about to let her off that easily.

Everyone present was perceptive; each one a master at reading the room during these dinners.

Elliot Sheridan had refused the manager’s toast but had accepted one from a newcomer—an intern, supposedly. The dynamic was intriguing.

Besides, their president’s eyes had been drifting toward the young woman all evening.

The president was definitely interested in her.

Elliot Sheridan was never short on women; glamorous and alluring types were a dime a dozen around him.

Perhaps he’d grown tired of exotic delicacies and wanted to try some home cooking for a change.

Someone like Georgia Thorne, for example.

Georgia Thorne wasn’t a nation-toppling beauty, nor did she possess the kind of stunning looks that immediately caught the eye. It was obvious she was fresh out of school, her young face the very picture of naïveté.

He was changing his tastes, developing a preference for fresh, young things.

Elliot’s men, wanting to get on his good side, started toasting Georgia Thorne in turns.

Georgia Thorne had barely eaten a few bites of food before she was forced to raise her glass again.

Glass after glass. Even with her high tolerance, she couldn’t withstand this relentless barrage of toasts.

The flush that had just started to fade crept back up her cheeks, and her head began to feel fuzzy.

Someone kept refilling her glass, and Georgia Thorne was in no position to refuse.

’I really can’t drink anymore, or I won’t be able to get home tonight.’

"I’m sorry, I..."

"Come now, Miss Thorne. You honored him with a drink, you can’t very well refuse me!" a portly middle-aged man said with a grin.

Georgia Thorne gave a hollow laugh. ’I don’t know a single one of these people. What "honor" am I supposed to give them?’

Smiling, she raised her glass. "This is really my last one. I can’t drink any more after this."

"Miss Thorne is a good sport! Let’s drink up!"

"Alright, bottoms up!"

The moment she finished, her empty glass was filled again.

"No, no, I really..."

Georgia Thorne couldn’t refuse. She stared at the glass, distressed. ’I really can’t drink anymore. One more sip and I’ll puke!’

Steeling herself, she looked toward the man at the head of the table, a silent plea in her eyes.

He was looking at her as if she were a stranger, his dark eyes deep and his expression bored.

Her stomach was starting to churn. Other than Elliot Sheridan, there was no one else she could turn to for help.

Her own colleagues were too busy saving their own skins. Only Elliot Sheridan sat there, detached, smoking his cigarette.

"Miss Thorne? Miss Thorne!"

The voice beside her pulled her back to reality. She forced another hollow laugh.

Holding up the glass, she felt utterly cornered. Out of the corner of her eye, she shot a resentful glare at Elliot Sheridan, who was calmly watching the spectacle unfold.

’We slept together, for crying out loud! Is he really going to just sit there and not help?’

The look in Elliot Sheridan’s eyes grew even colder.

The people around her kept pressing. In the final second, with her heart filled with despair, Georgia Thorne raised the glass with the grim resignation of a martyr.

’If I have to, I’ll just get blackout drunk right here!’

She closed her eyes and brought the glass to her lips. Suddenly, the world around her fell silent.

Before she had time to process it, something warm and dry touched her lips, and a familiar scent filled her nostrils.

A steady voice reached her ears. "A group of grown men ganging up on Miss Thorne like this... it’s not a good look."

Georgia Thorne’s eyes flew open. The man who was now standing beside her—she didn’t know when he’d gotten there—took the glass from her hand and drank it all himself.

"She’s just a young girl, new to all this. You should know how to be gentlemen and take it easy on her. Can’t you see her face is already as red as an apple?"