His jaw gradually tightened.
Lifting the glass to his lips, Vincent tossed back the remaining whiskey in a single swallow. The alcohol burned its way down his throat, but it did nothing to ease the irritation simmering beneath his skin. He reached for the bottle almost immediately, refilling his glass before glancing at his phone once more.
Still nothing.
Something inside him finally snapped.
"Fuck."
With a sharp curse under his breath, Vincent slammed the glass onto the coffee table.
The loud clang cut through the surrounding conversations, causing several nearby guests to turn and look in surprise before quickly looking away again.
Nolan and Griffin immediately turned toward him.
The two exchanged confused glances before looking back at Vincent, whose expression had darkened considerably. His brows were tightly furrowed, and the muscles in his jaw flexed as he stared at his phone with barely restrained fury.
"What happened?" Griffin asked cautiously, setting his own drink down.
Vincent let out a harsh breath and dragged a frustrated hand through his hair, leaving the dark strands disheveled.
"It's been an entire fucking month," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "A whole fucking month, and Juliet still hasn't come back. She hasn't even called me." He let out a humorless laugh and shook his head. "Not even once."
Grabbing the whiskey bottle, he poured himself another drink with more force than necessary, amber liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim.
"What the hell is wrong with her?" he demanded, turning sharply toward Griffin. His grip tightened around the glass until his knuckles turned white. "We've known each other for years. We were engaged for more than a year, and now she's acting like this?" His expression grew even colder. "How am I supposed to marry her if this is how she treats me?"
Griffin coughed awkwardly and shifted back against the couch, clearly sensing Vincent's foul mood.
"She'll come back," he said dismissively, waving a hand as if the matter was insignificant. "Where else is she going to go? She's been with you for so long. She's probably just gotten arrogant."
Vincent remained silent.
He swirled the whiskey in his glass, his eyes fixed on the amber liquid, but the storm brewing on his face showed that Griffin's words had not improved his mood in the slightest.
"I don't think it'll be long before she comes crawling back," Griffin continued confidently, crossing one leg over the other. "She might even ask to get back together. After all, she doesn't really have anyone else."
He scoffed before taking a sip of his drink.
"And what's with those friends of hers—Amara and Jasper?" Griffin added with obvious disdain. "They always look at you like you're some kind of disease. I wouldn't be surprised if they've been filling her head with nonsense all this time."
He lazily swirled the amber liquid in his glass before continuing, "But now that she's completely separated from you, she'll eventually realize your value. Once she understands that you won't keep chasing after her forever, she'll have no choice but to come back on her own."
A smug smile slowly spread across Griffin's face.
"Trust me," he said confidently, leaning forward and patting Vincent's shoulder. "She'll realize soon enough that she can't afford to keep acting like this. Otherwise, who else is going to put up with her?"
Vincent didn't look reassured by Griffin's words. If anything, his expression only grew darker. The muscles in his jaw ticked as he stared into the amber liquid swirling inside his glass, his fingerstightening around it until his knuckles turned pale. After a long, tense moment, he slowly lifted his head and turned toward Nolan. There was something dangerous in his eyes, something that made Nolan instinctively straighten in his seat.
"Give me your phone," Vincent said abruptly.
Nolan frowned, clearly caught off guard by the sudden request, but he still reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "Why?" he asked, holding it loosely in his hand.
"Call Juliet and put it on speaker."
Nolan raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the couch, disbelief written all over his face. "You want me to call her?" he asked incredulously. "Honestly, I don't think she'll pick up. And even if she does, shouldn't it be her calling you first?"
"I don't care," Vincent snapped, all traces of patience finally disappearing. He slammed his glass onto the coffee table with enough force to make the bottles rattle before dragging a frustrated hand through his hair. Rising from the couch, he began pacing restlessly across the room.
