Chapter 5
Next day, Larry said he had an important dinner that night. Asked if I wanted in.
"It's all business partners. Might be boring, but you could network a bit," he said.
I hesitated then agreed.
I needed more time to watch him—and a moment to lay my cards down.
The dinner was in a private room at an upscale club.
When we walked in, the place was buzzing—men and women in sharp clothes.
As soon as Larry stepped in, the room lit up.
"Mr. Clark, finally! We've been waiting on you," a stocky middle-aged man boomed, standing to greet him.
Larry smiled, worked the greetings, then gestured to me. "This is… a friend, Vania Moody. She's in town on business."
He kept it vague—never mentioned we were family.
People shot me curious looks.
I felt a bit uncomfortable and could only smile politely.
Drinks flowed. The room got louder.
One by one, people toasted Larry; he never turned one down.
I noticed that even though he was smiling, there was this tiny flicker in his eyes — a kind of tiredness and distance most people wouldn't catch.
I worried about him; he'd looked worn yesterday.
Halfway through the dinner, I excused myself to the restroom and shot him a quick text: [Larry, go easy on the drinks.]
He pinged back fast: [I'm fine. I got this.]
Back in the room, the toasts hadn't stopped.
Larry was clearly several rounds in by now — his cheeks were flushed and his gaze was just a little hazy.
But he kept pushing through, making small talk and clinking glasses like it was nothing.
I couldn't help but feel a little sorry for him.
He must've been carrying way more weight on his shoulders than anyone knew. All for his family. All for his career.
And Elvira? She'd stabbed him in the back without a second thought.
By the time the banquet was wrapping up, Larry was completely gone.
A couple of guys had to hold him up, his steps all wobbly. He was mumbling nonsense under his breath.
"Ms. Moody, Mr. Clark has had too much… so, uh…" That slightly chubby middle-aged man from earlier looked at me, clearly at a loss.
"I'll take him back to his hotel," I offered, getting to my feet.
Getting Larry — who was basically dead weight at this point — out to the car was no joke.
He was tall, solidly built, and almost all of him was leaning on me.
The sharp smell of alcohol mixed with the faint scent of his cologne, rushing into my nose all at once.
After finally wrestling him into the passenger seat, I fumbled with the seatbelt until I got it buckled.
He leaned back, eyes closed, a soft frown on his face — like even in sleep he couldn't relax.
I grabbed a bottle of water from the back seat, twisted the cap, and carefully fed him a few sips.
"Water…" he mumbled.
"Yeah, it's water. Take it slow," I whispered back.
He smacked his lips a little, seemed more comfortable, and drifted off again.
I drove him to the business hotel he always stayed at.
The front desk wasn't even surprised seeing him in this state. They checked him in with practiced ease, then called a bellboy to help me get him upstairs.
We got him to the bed, and I thanked the bellboy before sending him out.
Now it was just me and Larry — out cold on the bed, completely gone. For a second I didn't even know what to do.
His suit jacket was buttoned tight, his tie crooked.
I hesitated, but in the end I stepped forward and unbuttoned the jacket, tugging the tie loose.
His breathing was deep and heavy, the alcohol coming off him in warm waves.
I dampened a towel and gently wiped his face and forehead.
His skin was hot.
By the time I was done, I was exhausted. I sank down onto the carpet beside the bed, just looking at the side of his sleeping face.
Under the light, his eyelashes were long, his nose tall and straight, his lips cleanly shaped.
If I ignored the fact that he was my brother-in-law, Larry was actually a very attractive man.
Mature. Steady. Successful. And with this quiet, refined air about him.
Was Elvira blind?
And then, out of nowhere, Larry murmured a name. "Vannie."
My heart gave a sharp jolt.
Was he… calling me? Or giving Elvira some pet name?
I held my breath, leaning in.
"Vannie… don't go…" His voice was soft, almost pleading, with a hint of vulnerability.
And just like that, my heart was a mess.