Alaric’s POV: At first, Clarissa didn’t say anything. I watched her, hands still tucked in my pockets, as she strutted toward her desk, where I noticed the boxed wine sitting on it. “You know, someone got me this,” she muttered, opening it up and pulling the bottle out of it. Clarissa uncorked it slowly, as if my fury wasn’t filling the fucking room. “A friend from back in high school. You probably wouldn’t know him.”She raised her gaze to mine as her lips twitched. “Very sweet vintage. It’s a thoughtful gift, don’t you think?”My nostrils flared at the same time the bottle popped. “I asked you a question, Clarissa.”“I know,” she murmured. “Oh, fuck. I don’t have any glasses here. You wouldn’t mind drinking directly from the bottle, would you? You used to love that—”“I did not come here to drink,” I gritted out, stepping toward her desk. Toward her. Clarissa’s brows drew together, and for a second, she actually seemed confused.“You didn’t?”I simply arched a brow.Her eyes glint
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