It was a private estate, but the wine collection was staggering. Frederick knew I loved a good vintage, and every bottle my gaze lingered on for even a second, he bought on the spot.
Spending a fortune just to make me smile. The extravagance turned heads all around us.
My injured leg slowed me down, and I gradually fell behind him.
Most of the guests were Simmons Group business partners. They crowded around him, ribbing him good-naturedly.
"Mr. Simmons, spending a fortune to win a beauty's smile! There were a few rare bottles I had my eye on, and you snatched them right out from under me!"
"Frederick, that most prized vintage of yours, any chance you'd let me have it? Ten times the price, name it."
I listened to all of it and felt nothing.
Frederick waved them off without a glance. "Nothing matters more than Agatha. I only listen to her."
The corner of my mouth twitched. I pretended I hadn't heard that name. My expression didn't change.
Ignoring the small talk, Frederick took my hand and led me down into the winery's underground ballroom.
Through the shifting crowd, a flash of red caught my eye. A familiar figure.
Then the sound of a wine glass shattering cut through the noise, and every pair of eyes in the room snapped toward the same spot.
The champagne tower at center stage came crashing down in a cascade of glass and liquid, shards flying in every direction.
"What's wrong with you, young lady? You can't even walk without slamming into me, and now you've knocked the whole thing over!" Mr. Finch, Frederick's business partner, barked at the culprit.
The woman across from him said nothing, her face a picture of helpless resignation.
Anyone with eyes could see that Mr. Finch's suit was worth a small fortune, and now it was drenched in champagne. The temperature in the room plummeted.
The commotion drew our attention. The moment Frederick's gaze locked onto the woman responsible, something shifted in him. I felt it in the way his hand released mine.
He was about to walk over when I accidentally stepped on the edge of a tablecloth. A row of glasses tipped and nearly cascaded onto me. Frederick's reflexes kicked in. He grabbed me and pulled me close, shielding my stomach.
Shards of glass sliced into my hand. Blood ran freely between my fingers. He didn't even glance at it.
"Libby, are you alright? Just rest here for a minute. My friend seems to have run into some trouble."