JASON'S POV
I knew it.
I knew that last damn glass of wine was going to be a disaster.
I had seen it in slow motion—the way she tilted the glass, the way she swirled it like some sophisticated heiress, the way her lips curled in amusement as she took a long, lingering sip.
At first, she seemed fine.
Graceful. Poised. The perfect Kingsley princess.
But then…
Then I noticed the shift.
It wasn't immediate. Oh no. The devil always took her time.
First, it was the slight sway in her posture, almost as if the ground had betrayed her for just a second.
Then came the smile. Not her usual, sharp, condescending smirk. No. This one was… mischievous. Playful.
That's when the panic kicked in.
Oh, hell no.
