Bride Behind The Mask

“What kind of rule is this?” Marguerite was honestly baffled by Miley’s antics.

But since it didn’t involve her chugging beer, she could only pin her hopes on Frederick.

She gazed at him eagerly, only to find his expression unchanged from moments ago.

It was as if he was waiting for her to say something. All text © NôvelD(r)a'ma.Org.

Even if Marguerite was slow on the uptake, she had to realize where Frederick’s earlier anger stemmed from. Swallowing hard, she ventured, “Is that okay?”

Frederick’s gaze was unwavering.

So she knew how to ask favors? Frederick finally cracked a satisfied smile.

He slid the tequila from Marguerite’s side to his own, succinctly stating, “Let’s do this.”

Marguerite blinked, puzzled. When did her words become so effective?

Could it be that whatever she said, this man would comply?

Her mind was in a fog, struggling to make sense of it all, when Miley grabbed her to continue the game.

She didn’t want Frederick to drink too much, so she focused all her attention on the game. But it seemed she had no luck in game. Still a best-of-three, yet she lost every single round.

Watching Frederick down one drink after another, Miley was thrilled but simultaneously felt a pang of guilt.

She tried to lose a few rounds, but Marguerite just couldn’t seize the opportunities.

Finally, after Frederick downed another trio of shots, he asked with a slightly pained expression,

“Marguerite, how can you not get the hang of rock-paper-scissors?”

His chiseled features were now tinged with a faint blush.

Though he appeared sober, Marguerite knew he was slightly buzzed.

Robert caught Frederick’s cool, exasperated look and recalled that tonight’s antics were all about setting him up with Marguerite.

He couldn’t let them fall out at such a crucial juncture.

So, naturally, Robert stepped in to defuse the situation, “Actually, it’s not Marguerite’s fault. She’s bright, just unlucky to play against Miley.

You have no idea; Miley is the undefeated champ at the bar. Not in terms of drinking, but in never losing a game. Even in something as simple as rock-paper-scissors, I’ve lost to her more times than I can count.”

Marguerite knew Robert was trying to smooth things over, but she felt he was overthinking it.

Frederick’s words were a bit sharp, but she wasn’t upset.

After all, her notorious gaming skills had him drinking nonstop; anyone would’ve made a comment.

Full of self-reproach, Marguerite wanted to give him a chance to rest, so she excused herself to the restroom under a pretense. She splashed water on her face, having metabolized the alcohol she had drunk earlier by focusing so intently on the game.

Now sober, she planned to linger in the restroom to give Frederick a longer break.

However, as soon as she turned around, she saw Miley leaning against the wall with a grin.

Marguerite jumped, “Do you always move so silently?”

Miley wasn’t in the mood for beating around the bush. Seizing the moment, she earnestly advised Marguerite, “You saw it, Marguerite. The first time Mr. Winston drank tonight, he wanted you to ask him to, and even when you didn’t, he drank for you. You must feel how much he cares!

I’ve already told you clearly before. It’s time for you to make a move. Dragging this out is pointless! Besides, I can only help you so much! Whether you can seize the opportunity tonight is entirely up to you!”