Chapter 880

Fred slipped a cigar from his pocket and lit it up. “A bad guy, you say? What makes him so bad?”

“He…” Mya hesitated, her lips parting for a single word before she changed her mind. “Look, we hardly know each other. I’d rather keep it to myself and handle it my way.”

A subtle softness crept into Fred’s otherwise intimidating face. “How can I help if you don’t share the details? If he’s done something awful, I can take care of him for you.”

Mya was still somewhat skeptical of him. She pursed her lips, uncertain whether to voice her concerns.

Perceiving Mya’s dilemma, Fred switched gears. “What’s your relationship with the person you’re concerned about?”

“Madelyn’s my best friend,” Mya blurted out. “But she’s miserable right now. That jerk has her all cooped up and won’t even let her step out of the house.”

Fred was intrigued. ‘Zach Jardin, who runs the whole of Ventropolis, was unable to control a woman?

That’s interesting.’

Mya’s words piqued Fred’s curiosity. He wanted to see for himself what kind of woman Madelyn was.

Unaware, Mya found herself going along with Fred’s agenda. She nodded. “Yeah.”

“Tell me more. Maybe I can take him down a peg or two. No pressure, take your time to consider,” Fred said.

Despite Fred’s encouraging tone, Mya kept her lips sealed. She thought, ‘Madelyn warned me that Fred isn’t any better. I should get through this meal and then sever ties with him.’

A vast array of dishes covered the table, all to Mya’s taste. As they began to eat, a waiter appeared.

“Ms. Harper, you still have one dessert left. Shall I bring it now?”

Mya had been out and about all day and had hardly eaten anything. She had only snacked on some fried chicken and downed a couple of drinks, and now her stomach was beginning to protest its emptiness. Her words were muffled as she spoke with her mouth full of food, “Yes, please, bring it over.”

“Right away, Ms. Harper,” said the waiter.

Fred chuckled. He had never seen anyone so uninhibited in his presence before. Abandoning his cigar, he began to eat.

Mya offered Fred some carne frita. “You should try this. It’s the best they offer. Almost as good as what Madelyn makes. Don’t just look at me. Try it. It’s delicious.”

Mya thought Fred did not believe the food was delicious. She urged “Really, it’s tasty, I’m not lying. I’ve been here many times before.” As she said that, she crammed more carne fritas into her mouth. Her utensils glistened with saliva from her previous bites, and sauce smudged the corners of her mouth, completely disregarding her image.

Fred thought, ‘This young lady’s not afraid of me in the slightest. Even the women who were most intimate with me in bed never dared to approach me this closely.’

Fred was all about cigars and liquor; he never indulged in such delicacies, but watching Mya’s hopeful eyes made it hard for anyone to say no.

“Then I’ll give it a try.” Fred scooped some of the food Mya offered, popped the food into his mouth, and chewed thoughtfully. He said, “Not bad.”

“You see? Told you so.”

Mya began piling more food onto Fred’s plate. “Try these, too. They’re excellent.”

She then passed him a bowl of soup and set it before him. Just as she was about to dig in again, a waiter arrived with her dessert and a bottle of wine for Fred. The waiter asked, “Would you like me to open the wine, Sir?”

“Sure. Open that bottle of cider as well.”

As the waiter poured the drinks, Fred topped off Mya’s glass himself. She frowned. “Is this for me? I don’t drink.”

“This one is mild. Give it a try,” said Fred.

Mya gazed at the intriguing color of the cider; she had never tried it before. With a touch of curiosity, she picked up the glass and said, “Alright, just this one for me I have to go home later.”

Fred simply acknowledged, “Sure.”

Mya tentatively sipped at the drink; it was sweet, almost like a soft drink. She said, “I want more.”

As Mya drank more, it went straight to her head. She stood up, the world spinning around her. If it had not been for the table that she clung to, she would have nearly fallen. She asked, “Fred, why do I feel so dizzy?

Fred poured Mya a glass of warm water. “Is this your first time drinking?”

“I don’t like it. I want to go home,” said Mya. She hiccupped, her mouth still tasting sweet from the drink.

The dishes on the table were nearly finished, and Fred took out some money from his pocket, placing it on the table without counting it. He asked Mya, “Shall I carry you out?”

Mya was now like a marionette in the hands of a clumsy puppeteer, head drooping. She said, “No! We agreed I’d pay. I have money. You’re not allowed to pay; take it back.”

But as Mya tried to shove the bills into Fred’s hand, her eyes rolled back, and she collapsed into his arms. The clatter of a shattered glass bottle echoed in the room.

Outside, a waiter rushed over, thinking something terrible had happened. When she arrived, she saw Fred carrying a very intoxicated Mya out of the room.