Chapter 173 Running Into Randall

I felt a headache creeping in as I looked at the already tipsy Zia. "Look at yourself. You're completely drunk. Where's your address? I'll take you home." Her cheeks were flushed red, as if stained by the evening sun, and she shook her head furiously. "I'm not drunk! Who said I'm drunk? I just want to see Randall, Owen. You have to help me. I really, really need to see him…" Before I could respond, she downed another glass of alcohol. Panicking, I quickly grabbed the glass from her hand. "Stop drinking! Just tell me where you live so I can take you home. If you don't, I'll have to drop you at a hotel!" The last thing I wanted was to be dragged into a situation like the one I'd read about on the news earlier—someone dying from drinking after a breakup, and the companion being held accountable. That thought alone had me on edge. Zia made a weak attempt to grab her glass back, but her movements were so slow it was almost laughable. Her head bobbed, and before I knew it, she slumped onto the table, her eyes closing as she murmured Randall's name over and over again. I rubbed my temples, regretting ever agreeing to this dinner. Breakups were rough, especially for someone like Zia, fresh out of college. To her, love was everything. But I wasn't about to let myself get sucked into this emotional mess. The restaurant had quieted down, with only a few patrons left. The night outside was dark and peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos at our table. After a moment of deliberation, I called Nancy. I remembered she'd helped take Zia home after a competition party before, so it seemed like the easiest option. Nancy picked up immediately, her voice brimming with excitement. "Brother-in-law, don't you dare take her home yourself. Tell me where you are, and I'll come get her." I raised an eyebrow, my tone teasing. "You're actually volunteering to do this? What's the catch?" Nancy wasn't exactly the type to go out of her way for others. "Just send me the address." I gave her the restaurant's location. It wasn't far from the office, and she arrived in no time. Nancy stepped in wearing a pink turtleneck under a short beige trench coat, her polished appearance making her stand out instantly. She walked briskly toward me, her gaze landing on the passed-out Zia. Her face twisted in surprise. "What happened to her? Did something happen at home?" "She's going through some personal stuff," I said nonchalantly, scanning the table for the bill and paying it quickly. "You know where she lives, right? Get her home safely." Nancy glanced between Zia and me, her brows knitting together. "Owen, you're not seriously interested in her, are you? You've only known her for what—a couple of months? And you already seem pretty close." I shot her a look. "We've worked together for a bit, and that's all. Don't overthink it." Nancy's mischievous smile returned. "Fine, fine. I'll take her. But only because you asked. Normally, I wouldn't bother with this kind of thing." "I never said you had to take her," I retorted. "If you're not interested, just give me her address and I'll handle it." Nancy quickly changed her tune, plastering on a playful grin. "Oh, come on, I didn't mean it that way. Don't be mad, okay? She's an employee of my company, so of course, I'll take her. But if you took her, I'd have to fend off some serious accusations later." I rolled my eyes. I'd barely opened my mouth to reply when a familiar, cold voice interrupted us. "Zia?" Both Nancy and I turned toward the voice. There was Randall, striding toward us with long, purposeful steps. His face was etched with worry as his eyes landed on Zia, who was sprawled over the table. His brows furrowed deeply, and he shot me a glare. "How did she end up like this? Who made her drink this much?" Nancy's eyes lit up as she took in his sharp features and tall frame. She straightened her posture, smoothing her hair in what I could only describe as a peacock display. "Hi there," she said sweetly, flashing her most charming smile. "I'm Nancy, Zia's boss. Nice to meet you. And you are?" I smirked inwardly at her theatrics. Nancy had a thing for men like Randall—cool, aloof, and sharp-eyed. It seemed her taste wasn't far off from Yvette's. But Randall's piercing gaze remained fixed on me. His voice was cold and accusatory. "I asked you a question. How did she get this drunk? Did you do this to her?" Nancy's sugary demeanor faltered for a second before she countered, still smiling, "Wow, you're kind of intense. You might scare off potential dates with that attitude. For the record, no one 'did this to her.' She was just having a casual dinner with her boss. We were about to take her home when you showed up." Randall ignored her, his glare still locked on me. Then, without warning, he grabbed a glass of water from the table and hurled it at me. I barely had time to react. The water drenched me, but I managed to dodge the glass itself as it shattered on the floor. Stunned, I stood frozen as his angry voice rang out. "Mr. Yates, Zia has a weak stomach. She can't handle alcohol. Did you even think about that before letting her drink? If you're trying to get close to her, at least take proper care of her. Or are you still holding a grudge over what happened outside the villa the other day and decided to use her to get back at me?" Nancy's jaw dropped. "Owen?" Her earlier charm disappeared in an instant, replaced by a sharp, cutting glare directed at Randall. "You need to apologize to him. Right now. That stunt with the glass? I could make you regret it for the rest of your life." Randall clenched his fists, his face a mixture of stubbornness and rage. "Why should I apologize? Mr. Yates, you don't think your behavior is out of line? I didn't say anything before, but now it's clear that you've been getting way too close to her for my comfort."