Chapter 77

Nicole I should have listened to Weslee. Coming back to the villa was the last thing I wanted right now. I couldn't bear to face Damien—though honestly, I doubted he'd even come home tonight. He was probably still at the hospital with Yelena, holding her hand while doctors tended to her injuries. "Harry," I said, my voice slightly slurred from the alcohol, "do you have time for another drink?" What I really needed was to forget everything—to drown the image of Damien carrying Yelena away while leaving me to face the whispers and stares alone. "Sure," Harry replied softly. He understood I was in no mood for lectures or sympathy. He was simply there, offering silent support when I needed it most. We soon found ourselves in a bar with pulsing neon lights and music loud enough to drown out my thoughts. I ordered whiskey and poured it down my throat in one desperate gulp. The liquid burned like fire, making me choke and sputter. Harry immediately took the glass from my hand and signaled the