Tossed Whiskey at a hot guy

Veronica's POV:

I look down at my glass as the two attractive men approach us.

The tattooed dark-haired man slides onto the barstool directly to my right with fluid ease, while the blonde-haired one takes the seat next to Penny. 

The scent of expensive cologne wafts all over us, which is something dark and intoxicating.

I grip my whiskey glass tighter, my knuckles white against the crystal.

Entitled bastards. Attractive as they may be, they think they can just walk over here and...

"Excuse me," I say abruptly, standing so quickly that my barstool scrapes against the polished floor. The alcohol makes me sway slightly, but I steady myself with one hand on the bar. "Penny, come on. Let's take another seat."

"But we're here to talk to you, sweetie," the rebellious dark-haired man purrs, and his fingers wrap around my wrist before I can react.

The contact sends an unwelcome jolt through me, and I jerk back instinctively. "Don't touch me!" The words come out sharper than I intended, my voice cutting through the ambient music.

"Whoa, easy there—"

"Max, back off." The blonde one intervenes smoothly, placing a restraining hand on his brother's shoulder. "Christ, you can't just grab a girl that way. What's wrong with you?"

Max releases me immediately, but that infuriating smirk never leaves his face. "Relax, Theo. I was just being friendly."

He studies me with those electric blue eyes, like I'm some fascinating puzzle he wants to solve. "Usually women don't mind when I touch them..."

"Usually?" I cut him off, the alcohol making me bold and reckless. "Let me guess... You think you can flatter everyone by flashing that pretty face and your bank account, and expect all to just melt into puddles at your feet?"

His eyebrows shoot up, clearly not expecting the bite in my voice.

"Well, congratulations," I continue, my tone dripping with sarcasm, "you've just met the one girl in Manhattan who isn't impressed by your whole 'mysterious bad boy billionaire' act."

Max raises one dark brow that's arched like a devil's, and I can tell it's not natural; he purposely trims his eyebrows to look fierce, like a typical ‘bad boy.

Then he throws his head back and laughs... which was a rich, dangerous sound that makes several women at nearby tables turn to stare. "God, I love a woman with claws," he says, leaning back against the bar with predatory grace. His tattooed fingers drum against the polished surface as those electric blue eyes rake over me appraisingly. "Most girls just giggle and blush when I talk to them. This is... refreshing."

I want to slap that arrogant smirk right off his stupidly handsome face.

"Jesus, Max." The polite blonde one steps forward, shooting his brother a look that could freeze hell over. "I'm so sorry about him," he says to me, his voice gentle and genuinely apologetic. "He thinks charm means bulldozing through every conversation." He extends his hand with careful deliberation, waiting for my permission rather than demanding it. "I'm Theodore Ashford. The one with actual manners."

Max snorts. "Boring manners."

"And this caveman," Theodore continues with practiced patience, "is unfortunately my older brother, Maximilian. Though most people just call him Max. Or 'that asshole,' depending on the day."

That actually pulls a reluctant smile from me, and I find myself accepting Theodore's handshake. His grip is firm but respectful... nothing like his brother's forced grab.

"Ashford," I repeat slowly, the name clicking into place like a puzzle piece. "Wait—"

"I know you two," I say to them. "You're the Ashford brothers. The billionaire brothers."

Then I recall all the media articles I've seen about them, though I never paid much attention since the Ashfords were mortal rivals to Chase.

I remember how many times Chase would curse the Ashfords, claiming they had allegedly purchased shares to overthrow his company. And all the times he got stressed, I would comfort him with hot soup.

Wasted efforts. For a toxic man.

I'm glad for the alcohol that's relaxing my nervous system, keeping me from feeling the hurt.

"So now that you know us, we'd like to make a proposal," Maximilian Ashford, the rebellious dark-haired man, says.

"We know through our sources that you've broken up with Chase Pemberton on bitter terms. So you'd be anticipating revenge, wouldn't you?"

I blink at him. How fast can news travel in the business world?!

Then Theodore Ashford, the blonde one, says, "So we'd like to have you on our team."

I look at both brothers for a few seconds and chuckle. "What makes you two think that I want revenge? Or that I'll just team up with you two, who seem to be opportunists?"

Max's smile turns wickedly amused, like he's just discovered the most delicious secret. He leans back against the bar, completely at ease, as if he's settling in to enjoy a show. "Oh, darling," he drawls, his voice dripping with mock sympathy, "don't tell me you actually believed you loved Chase Pemberton."

My jaw drops. "What did you just say?"

"Come now, sweetheart." He tilts his head, studying me with those piercing blue eyes like I'm a particularly entertaining specimen. "Let's not pretend this is about heartbreak, shall we? You saw Chase Pemberton... young, wealthy, powerful... and you thought, 'Perfect. My ticket to the high life.'"

"You don't know what you're talking about," I breathe, but my voice sounds weak even to my own ears.

Max's grin widens, revealing perfect white teeth. "Oh, but I do. Three years of playing housewife, cooking his meals, pressing his shirts... Tell me, love, what exactly were you expecting in return? A fairy tale ending? Or perhaps a nice fat bank account, and a successful businessman to join your daddy’s business with him so that your combined net worth will soar even higher.”

Each word is like a blade, cutting deeper than the last. He's enjoying this... the way my face flushes, the way my hands shake.

"The truth is," he continues with devastating casualness, running a finger along the rim of his whiskey glass, "you're no different from us. The only difference is we're honest about what we want, while you... Well, you dress it up as love."

Something inside me snaps.

The humiliation, the betrayal, Chase's words echoing in my head, and now this arrogant bastard reducing everything I felt, everything I sacrificed for love, to nothing more than calculated opportunism.

"You son of a bitch," I snarl, and before I can think twice, I grab my glass and hurl the amber liquid directly at his smug face.

The whiskey hits him square in the jaw, the amber liquid cascading down his perfectly sculpted features.

It soaks into his expensive white shirt, darkening the fabric as it trails down his throat and disappears beneath his collar, following the intricate black lines of his tattoos. His five-thousand-dollar suit jacket is now stained with alcohol, the liquid beading on the fine wool before seeping in.

The entire bar goes silent, with shocked gazes.

But only I know my feelings. Nurturing a toxic man out of love, only to be called boring, a maid, and now an opportunist.

"We're so sorry. My friend didn't really mean it. Excuse us," Penny grabs my hand. "We're leaving."

She drags me to the ladies' room and says, "V, just get yourself together. It looked like they were only trying to offer you something."

"I don't need any help. Especially not from that arrogant Maximilian."

…..

The next day, I'm too hungover to do anything. In my penthouse, I'm lying on the couch with an ice pack on my head, feeling my throbbing skull get some relief from the cold.

Then my dad comes to visit me. He rarely visits me in my penthouse. Usually, it's me going to our mansion that is outside Manhattan.

My father is dressed in a black suit, as always... with his graying hair and the serious expression he perpetually wears.

He's never been one to show affection openly, but I've never made it an issue since I know he's just authoritative... deep down, he cares for me and Mom.

"Pathetic," my Dad shouts, with an angry look at me. "After creating all that drama, you got yourself wasted last night. You should be ashamed of yourself.”