Chapter 2

Brett looked displeased as he patted my face. "Kieran, you've got quite an attitude. You're selling wine here, but you refuse to drink, huh? Does your boss know?"

I replied steadily, "He does. The boss said we have full discretion to decide if we want to drink or not."

Harry slammed the table and said, "You put on quite a convincing act. Your boss might've said that, but what he didn't say is that when your client is Brett, you will have to drink no matter what!"

Brett liked what Harry said. He lifted his chin at me and continued, "You won't be able to save enough to buy a bottle of this even after working your whole life, you country bumpkin. Come on, pour the wine!"

Harry immediately played along. "Brett is right. Who knows? Maybe he'll enjoy it. The only fitting job for a poor loser like him is to stand here and serve us."

The two of them chortled mockingly.

I looked at Zyla. She remained silent the whole time as she sat beside Brett. Occasionally, she glanced at me. Her eyes carried a hint of resentment and a trace of unease at my suffering.

I glanced at Brett and noticed that neither of them wore rings. Eight years had passed. Why weren't they married? How many eight years did a woman even have?

Zyla really wasn't thinking straight.

I poured her a glass and was about to leave when Harry grabbed me.

He jeered, "Don't go. Didn't your club train you to do your job? The guests are still here. Where do you think you're going? Give us some entertainment like singing or dancing, or whatever."

Brett's eyes lit up. "Right. I remember that you won a place in one of the college singing contests. You used your guitar skills to win over our campus belle! Isn't that right, Zyla? You fell for his pretty-boy act back then, didn't you?"

Zyla showed a trace of embarrassment upon being suddenly pulled into Brett's arms.

I smiled faintly, expecting her to mock or belittle me.

But she said, "No."

Everyone looked at her.

Zyla said seriously, "Kieran never lied to me. I willingly became his girlfriend."

At those words, Brett let out a cold snort. "What's this? Are you reminiscing about the past now? Do you regret it? Let me tell you. Even if you regret it, it's too late!"

I was a bit surprised. Had Zyla lost her mind? Or did she find out about my current status and was deliberately putting on a show?

But that didn't make sense. I hadn't been back for eight years. After being humiliated by Brett back then, I left and swore that I would make something of myself.

Even though I was back, Reagan was the one managing the club. Other than my close confidants, no one knew who I really was.

So what was going on with Zyla?

Before I could figure it out, Harry walked over and patted my shoulder. "We're talking to you, punk! Go on, sing something! You'd better entertain Brett. If he's happy, he'll give you a tip. You'll be hitting the jackpot if he does that."

His group of friends grew excited as well.

"Yeah, hurry up!"

"You're out here promoting wine. Stop holding on to your nonexistent dignity."

"Sing a song! Either that, or go on and dance!"

I flashed them a polite smile. "I stopped doing that a long time ago. My health hasn't been great these past two years. My knee's injured, so I can't dance. As for singing, I'm sad to tell you that my voice is unable to do that anymore."

A few years back, I drank too much at business events and ruined my voice. Thus, I couldn't sing anymore. The knee injury was real as well, as I'd been in a car accident.

Brett immediately grew annoyed. "Kieran, are you asking for trouble? You won't drink, and you won't sing. Are you deliberately going against me?"

He shot his posse a look. Harry understood instantly and stepped forward with another guy to pin me down from both sides.

Harry roared, "How dare you oppose Brett, you pauper! You're asking for it! We're going to make you drink no matter what!"

As they spoke, they tried to force wine down my throat.

I responded coldly, "Brett, this is an exclusive club, not your home. Are you sure you want to cause trouble in this private room?"