The Bad Gentleman
Christian starts walking away, but she quickly catches up to him, offering her hand to him for assistance, and ever the gentleman, Christian takes it, helping her down the stage.
My eyes narrow, bringing the fourth flute to my lips for a sip, while still watching as the woman leans towards him, whispering something in his ear, and instead of letting him return to the table—to me, he follows her out of the hall. The sweet taste of the champagne hits my throat, a slight burn lingering, as I ball my fist on my lap.