Chapter 197

 197:
She crossed her arms and pouted, completely unaware of how childish she sounded.
Collin couldn’t help but chuckle. “Alright, alright,” he said, his voice softening. “Of course, I won’t hurt you. I’m just worried, that’s all. I don’t want you getting drunk and ending up in some kind of trouble.”
Linsey knew he was genuinely concerned.
After a moment of thought, she smiled. “How about you come pick me up later?” she suggested, telling him the name of the restaurant. “Don’t worry, I won’t go overboard. But if someone really pushes me to drink, I might not be able to say no.”
Collin’s eyes glinted dangerously. “Anyone who tries to force my wife to drink will live to regret it.”
Linsey burst into laughter again.
It was a strange but pleasant feeling—being around Collin, even just talking to him, always seemed to lift her spirits.
She said, finally composing herself, “I should probably head back inside. It’s not cool to keep my colleagues waiting.”
“Go ahead,” Collin replied with a nod. He waited until Linsey ended the call before setting his phone aside.
By the time Linsey returned to the private room, her colleagues had already started eating.
Coen spotted her the moment she walked in and waved her over.
“Linsey! Come join me for a drink!”
The pungent smell of alcohol wafted towards Linsey as she sat down. She had only been gone for a few minutes—how much had Coen managed to guzzle down in that short time?
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“Linsey, my dear,” Coen slurred, a wide grin plastered across his face as he handed a glass of wine to Linsey. “We owe it all to you for snagging Anthea’s deal. This one’s for you!”
Linsey eyed the brimming glass, Collin’s earlier warning echoing in her mind. “Coen, I don’t really drink. Do you mind if I pass?”
To her surprise, Coen’s expression soured instantly. He scowled at her. “Linsey, are you trying to make me look bad?”
Cynthia, never one to miss an opportunity, jumped in with a sneer. “Linsey,” she drawled, “you might have landed Anthea’s deal, but let’s not forget that she only gave us another shot because of Coen. Don’t tell me you’re taking all the credit?”
Coen’s scowl deepened at Cynthia’s words.
He slammed his glass down on the table, the liquor sloshing over the rim. “Fine,” he spat. “If our precious star designer can’t handle a little drink, then forget it.”
Linsey shot Cynthia an icy glare. “Coen, that’s not what I meant at all.” With a resigned sigh, she picked up the glass and, gritting her teeth, downed the fiery liquid in one gulp.
The potent liquor scorched its way down her throat, and a wave of dizziness washed over her. The room began to tilt.
In the brief moment before the alcohol completely clouded her senses, Linsey had a sudden realization. Collin was right. She really couldn’t hold her liquor. Thankfully, Coen seemed satisfied with her compliance and didn’t push her to drink any more. After all, Linsey was the department’s top designer, and even he had to acknowledge her value—and make concessions accordingly.
A short while later, Coen’s phone rang. After a brief conversation, he stood up and addressed the group. “Alright, everyone, enjoy the rest of your evening. The bill’s taken care of. Something’s come up, so I have to head out.”
The moment Coen left the room, the atmosphere instantly shifted. The tension dissipated, replaced by a sense of relief.
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