Chapter 89 Don't They Say That Drunk Men Can't Perform?
The car pulled up to a private estate in the suburbs.
It was the family estate of Virgil's maternal grandfather.
Virgil and Patricia were waiting in front of the main house.
After they got out of the car, a butler quietly took Liam's keys and drove the vehicle to the parking lot.
"Patricia, Virgil," Emma said with a smile, looking as if nothing had happened.
Liam smiled.
Has she truly forgiven me?
Will she reject me tonight?
After a brief exchange of greetings, they all went inside.
When Liam and Emma arrived, a few people by the fire pit stood up to greet them.
There was a woman in a stylish, light-green cashmere coat.
Eleanor?
Virgil and Patricia called out, "Mom."
"Are you Emma?" Lorena Carter walked straight toward Emma.
"Hello." Emma smiled.
"Come here. I'll take you to meet someone." Lorena naturally took her hand.
Emma froze slightly and looked at Liam.
What is going on?
Liam gave her a gentle nod, signaling for her to follow.
"When did she get back?" he asked, sitting down next to Virgil.
"The night Steven's accident happened. Grandpa personally flew back with her," Virgil replied.
Liam nodded, keeping glancing in the direction they had left.
——
In the dining room.
The servants began serving the dishes.
Emma came in with Eleanor.
She exchanged a few words with Eugene before joining them at the table.
She sat down next to Eugene, looking for Liam's figure.
She gestured with her eyes toward the empty seat beside her.
Liam smiled, stood up, and walked over.
He took the seat between Eugene and Emma.
"Grandpa, Mom, happy Thanksgiving," he said with a smile.
"Don't rush off tonight. Have a few more drinks. I need to thank you properly." Eugene smiled.
"I'd be happy to stay," he replied with a smile.
——
After the dinner——
Lying in bed, Emma stared at the ceiling.
By the time Liam returned, she was already asleep.
KNOCK!
Still half-asleep, she fumbled for her phone and glanced at the time.
It was 3:00 a.m.
She walked barefoot to open the door.
Virgil and Liam were standing outside, supporting each other.
She tugged at her robe and stepped forward to steady the drunk Liam.
"Thanks for your help, Emma," Virgil said, managing a smile.
Emma struggled to support Liam and glanced at her. "Can you make it back on your own?"
"No problem. Good night."
"Good night."
Emma helped Liam into the room, closed the door, and settled him onto the bed.
The mattress sank in as he sprawled out on it.
"Emma..." he murmured, tugging at his shirt and fumbling with his belt.
"Hey, Liam, do you know who I am?" she asked, running her slender fingers over his Adam's apple.
"Don't tempt me, honey. Tonight, I can't make you happy," he said hoarsely as he slowly opened his eyes.
A large hand had slipped around her waist, caressing her.
Emma chuckled, leaning down to kiss the corner of his mouth. "How about let me make you happy?"
"Okay," he agreed without hesitation.
"Can you even move?" Emma asked.
"I don't know." His eyes darkened as he took her hand and guided it downward. "Why don't you try?"
Blushing, she gently slapped his face. "Can you sit up and drink some water?"
Liam wrapped his arms around her, grinning.
"You bastard," she muttered, lightly pounding her fist against his solid chest.
He caught her hand and pressed it against his cheek.
"I'm sorry. I should have trusted you." He apologized earnestly.
Emma pinched his cheek. "It's good that you know you were wrong."
"So, do you forgive me?"
"I'll forgive you if you drink the water."
"Okay."
He propped himself up on his elbows and leaned against the headboard. He drained the cup of water in one gulp.
That night, he slowed down every movement.
Gentle yet forceful, he drove himself solidly into her.
She bit her lip hard, afraid to make a sound.
She could see the bulging veins on his forehead and the fine beads of sweat.
He was breathing heavily, and the heavy scent of alcohol enveloped her.
Don't they say that drunk men can't perform?