The two of them, striking in appearance, immediately drew attention as soon as they stepped into the bar.
A girl beside Melissa perked up, her eyes lighting up as she glanced toward the entrance.
"There’s a gorgeous guy and a girl at the door!"
"Seriously handsome—and they’re American! Should we invite them to join us?"
This isn’t our table, and besides, that guy looks ice-cold.
Doesn’t seem like he’s here to have fun."
Let’s just keep playing."
Throughout the entire exchange, Melissa acted as if she hadn’t heard a thing, not even sparing a glance in their direction.
In her world, good-looking people were a dime a dozen.
The liquor bottle spinning on the table came to a halt, pointing straight at Melissa once more.
Someone in the group teased.
"It seems the god of wine is favoring Melissa tonight."
Melissa had come here precisely to drown her sorrows, so she wasn’t about to refuse.
She grabbed the bottle and poured herself another drink without hesitation.
But her already foggy mind and unsteady hands weren’t cooperating—most of the liquor ended up spilling outside the glass.
Any more and she’ll be completely wasted," said a clean-cut guy in a white T-shirt and gray sweatpants, eyeing Melissa’s tipsy state with amusement.
"Maybe we should call it a night."
His words only stirred up more teasing from the others.
"What’s wrong, Jamal?
"If Melissa doesn’t drink, you can take her place," a woman chimed in, playfully holding up two fingers.
"But not just one glass—make it two."
"Two it is," Jamal replied without missing a beat, his gaze lingering on Melissa’s flushed cheeks and increasingly alluring eyes.
Jamal reached over and took her glass. "Melissa, don’t push yourself.
Let me drink this for you."
Melissa hadn’t been paying attention to their earlier conversation, nor did she care to.
Seeing Jamal take her glass, her brows furrowed in displeasure.
She was about to refuse when a deep, icy voice cut in.
"It’s not your place to drink for her."
Melissa’s eyes flickered in surprise as she turned toward the voice.
The moment she saw him, the grievances she had been holding back surged uncontrollably.
Her already hazy eyes, glazed from the alcohol, welled up with tears.
The others also turned toward the source of the voice.
Only then did they realize that the man they had just been discussing was now standing right behind Melissa.
Up close, they could see that his looks and presence far surpassed anything they had imagined.
Vicente wrapped an arm around Melissa’s waist, plucked the glass from Jamal’s hand, and downed it in one swift motion.
His dark, piercing eyes swept over the group.
His voice was calm but carried an unmistakable edge of authority.
Without another word, Vicente poured himself two more glasses and drained them both without hesitation.
"These three drinks are on Melissa’s behalf.
Enjoy the rest of your evening—everything goes on my tab."
Vicente bent down slightly, his usually cold and aloof expression softening as he met Melissa’s gaze.
"Let’s go home, okay?"
His tall, lean frame cast a shadow that enveloped her completely.
Helena, standing behind Vicente with his arms crossed, couldn’t help but shiver at the sight.
Since when did Vicente have such a tender side?
"No," Melissa frowned, her delicate features tightening as the memory of the restaurant scene flooded back, amplifying the ache in her chest.
"Weren’t you busy entertaining another woman?
Why bother coming after me?"
The others nearby instinctively glanced at Helena, who had entered with Vicente.
Their faces remained neutral, but their eyes sparkled with barely concealed gossip.
Catching the unmistakable jealousy in her tone, Vicente’s lips curled into an indulgent smile—his suspicions now confirmed.
"There was never another woman.
What you saw at the restaurant was just a misunderstanding."
As for what misunderstanding, he certainly couldn’t explain directly in front of outsiders.
"I saw it with my own eyes.
How could it be a misunderstanding?
Melissa suddenly realized something, her delicate face darkening with anger as she glared at Vicente.
"You knew I was at the restaurant?
Vicente narrowed his eyes slightly, silent for a moment before answering truthfully, not wanting to hide it from her.
"I knew the moment you sat down."
Calvin knew the moment she sat down?
So he had been dining with another woman, getting all touchy-feely, without even bothering to avoid her?
The thought sent Melissa’s fury—and her blood pressure—soaring to its peak.
Without hesitation, she raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face.
"Vicente, you bastard!"
The sharp crack of the slap landed squarely on the man’s cheek, snapping his head to the side.
His baseball cap tumbled to the ground, revealing Vicente’s sharply defined, coldly handsome features.
Everyone, including Jamal, gaped in shock at the sudden outburst.
This man looked like someone you wouldn’t dare cross—yet Melissa had just slapped him without hesitation?
Damn, that took guts! Helena was also taken aback.
Having known Vicente for so long, this was the first time he’d seen someone slap him—and in front of so many people, no less.
*Is this guy gonna lose it and throw a punch?*
Not just him—even Melissa, the one who’d actually done the slapping, felt a pang of panic as she stared at the red mark on Vicente’s face.
She had expected him to block or dodge, just like he always did back in San Francisco.
Under the weight of everyone’s gaze, Vicente slowly turned his head.
His dark, unfathomable eyes locked onto Melissa as his hand, hanging at his side, gradually lifted.
Melissa’s misty eyes flickered, but she clenched her jaw and stood her ground, glaring straight at him.
Maybe it would finally knock some sense into her—make her let go for good.
Helena sighed, realizing he bore some responsibility for the mess.
Steeling himself like a martyr, he stepped forward and grabbed Vicente’s raised wrist.
"Vicente, Miss Taylor was just acting in the heat of the moment.
Let’s talk this out like adults.
No need to take it out on a girl..."
In his urgency, he didn’t bother lowering his voice.
But the bar was too loud, and everyone else was too stunned to notice.
Vicente glanced at Helena’s grip on his wrist, his temple twitching.
His expression darkened like a storm cloud.
Melissa finally noticed Helena’s presence.