Chapter 3 The Biggest Scam #2
He set the drink down lazily, picked it up again, and leaned even closer, his balance unsteady.
“This is nice,” he slurred with a crooked smirk. “I’ll get one too. But I don’t think it’ll taste as sweet as this one does.”
He pointed clumsily at the lipstick stain smeared along the straw, chuckling to himself.
“Leave me alone,” Mia said sharply. She shoved the cocktail away, her fingers recoiling as if it had burned her. “And pay for that drink. I didn’t buy it for you,” she snapped as she pushed herself up from the seat.
She stood, ready to walk away—
But the man suddenly lunged.
His hand clamped around her arm—hard—and yanked her backward. Mia gasped as she lost her balance and crashed back onto the couch. Before she could recover, he wrapped his arms around her waist, trying to drag her closer to him.
“Hey, hey—don’t walk away like that,” he slurred, laughing under his breath. “You get upset so easily. Wait—hold on. I’ll get you more drinks.”
He raised one hand clumsily, waving toward the bar, barely paying attention as Mia struggled against him.
Mia shoved him with all her strength.
“Get the fuck away from me!” she shouted, her voice shaking with fury. “I told you, I don’t want to be anywhere near you!”
He ignored her words completely, leaning in again. His face hovered inches from hers, breath hot and sour when suddenly a powerful hand clamped down on the back of his neck.
In the next second, the man was ripped away from Mia and hurled sideways off the couch. His body slammed into the wall with a sharp crack before collapsing to the floor in a heap.
“What the fuck!” he yelled, clutching his head as he struggled to sit up.
He looked up and froze.
Gavin stood over him, his expression carved from ice. His eyes were sharp, warning clear and unmistakable.
“Had enough?” Gavin asked calmly, his voice low and dangerous. “Or should I call the police right now and let them deal with you?”
The man’s face drained of color.
He scrambled to his feet and bolted, stumbling as he ran, not daring to look back.
Gavin didn’t look satisfied.
He turned to one of the nearby waiters and pointed toward the group the man had come from.
“They’ve been harassing women in the bar,” he said flatly. “Kick them out before they do something worse.”
The waiter stiffened, nodded immediately, and hurried off to alert security.
When Gavin turned back, Mia was staring at him, wide-eyed and stunned.
He walked over, his posture easing slightly, a small, reassuring smile appearing on his face.
“Are you all right?” he asked gently. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” He let out a light chuckle.
Mia finally released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding.
“Thank you,” she said softly, returning a small smile. “If you want this table, you can have it. I was just leaving.”
“You’re already leaving?” Gavin raised a brow, glancing at the mostly untouched drinks. “You barely started. How about I get you a fresh one? Come on, have a drink with me.”
Mia replied, waving it off. “It’s fine.”
Gavin only shook his head, reached into the ice bucket, and picked up another cocktail, holding it out to her. “Come on. Drinking alone is never fun,” he said lightly. “Have one with me. I promise I’m more fun than I look.”
He flashed a playful smile.
Mia hesitated, then let out a breath and sat back down. Gavin pulled out the chair across from her and settled in comfortably.
“So,” he said, nodding toward her glass, “you’re a cocktail person?”
Mia nodded and took a sip. Then she frowned at the glass like it had personally offended her, tipped it back, and finished it in one go. Without ceremony, she reached for another and took a longer drink this time.
The warmth crept up faster than she expected.
Her shoulders loosened. Her posture softened. Words began slipping out more easily, laughter following right after—lighter, freer, less guarded than before. She talked with her hands now, stories tumbling over one another.
Gavin listened, fully engaged, laughing harder than he had in years, completely entertained by her unfiltered words.
After a while, he reached for another drink.
“This one’s got mint,” he said. “I’ve had it before. Trust me—you’ll love it.”
By then, Mia was already quite drunk. The music, the lights, the easy rhythm of conversation made everything feel lighter. At one point, she even broke into a silly song, singing off-key.
Gavin doubled over laughing.
He lifted his phone and snapped a selfie—Mia across from him, cheeks flushed, smiling, still mid-song. He set the phone down… then picked it up again moments later, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he sent the photo to James.
Mia was sipping her cocktail happily when she suddenly set the glass down with a decisive clink and pointed straight at Gavin, her finger wobbling slightly as she squinted at him.
“You must be so happy you’ve never been married,” she declared with grave seriousness. “Do you know what marriage is?” She shook her head in disgust. “The biggest scam mankind ever invented. I’m never marrying again. Ever.”
Gavin leaned back in his chair, a laugh slipping out before he could stop it. “You’re not going to marry again?” he asked. “You’re not even halfway through your life.”
Mia’s eyes flew open like he’d just cursed her.
“What do you mean I’m not halfway through my life?” she demanded. “This thing goes all the way to a hundred years?” She frowned hard, clearly trying to calculate something important. “I thought I was… done already.”
Gavin lost it.
The more seriously she tried to explain her reasoning, the worse it got.
She launched into a passionate rant—disastrous marriages, stupid men, emotional trauma, and how every single one of them should be a public service announcement against love.
Gavin laughed until his sides hurt, barely able to breathe.
Then Mia stopped mid-rant.
“You know what?” she said, lifting one finger like she’d just uncovered the secrets of the universe. “One day, I’m going to buy a man.”
Gavin choked on his laugh.
“I’ll keep him,” she continued solemnly. “Train him. Rearrange a few parts in his head so he’s at least a little sane.” She nodded to herself, clearly pleased with the plan. “That seems efficient.”
Gavin was shaking now, laughing so hard he had to brace a hand on the table.
Mid-sentence, she pushed herself to her feet.
The world immediately tilted.
She stumbled, her balance slipping.
Gavin rushed forward and caught her just in time, one hand coming up to steady her shoulder.
“Hey, hey, hey,” he said quickly, concern threading through his voice. “Are you all right? Do you need some water?”
Mia blinked up at him, her pupils unfocused. The lights blurred, the room tilted—and then nausea slammed into her.
Without a word, she twisted out of his hold and hurried toward the washroom across the room.
She shoved the door open and slammed it shut behind her. The moment she reached the sink, she bent over and started throwing up, her body shaking as she gripped the porcelain.
A few moments later, Gavin followed and knocked softly on the door.
“Mia,” he called gently. “Do you need help? Should I come in?”
There was no reply.
Instead, the lock clicked from the inside.
Mia turned on the tap and splashed cold water onto her face again and again, gripping the edges of the sink as she tried to steady herself. Her breathing was uneven, her hands trembling slightly.
And then—without warning—her vision blurred.
Tears welled up, spilling over before she could stop them.
She stared at her reflection in the mirror: her hair tied messily, strands clinging to her damp cheeks; her face flushed and blotchy; her eyes glassy, red, and swollen. Her chest tightened painfully, like something was squeezing her heart from the inside.
“I’m only twenty-three,” she whispered, her voice barely holding together. “And I’ve already been fooled in marriage by two men.”
Her lips trembled as the words sank in. “My life isn’t even halfway done yet…” Her voice cracked. “So why does it already feel this bad?”
The dam finally broke.
She bent forward slightly, pressing her hands to the sink as quiet sobs shook her shoulders. She tried to breathe—tried to calm herself—but the hurt came in waves, stealing the air from her lungs.
Outside the washroom, with no response from her, Gavin stepped back and waited. He paced slowly, running a hand through his hair, his gaze never leaving the closed door.
And then—suddenly—
Someone grabbed his collar and yanked him backward.
Gavin spun around, startled, only to find James standing inches away, fury radiating off him.
“You got here faster than I thought,” Gavin said, letting out a short, humorless laugh.
“What the fuck, Gavin?” James snapped. His voice was low, furious, barely restrained. His eyes burned as they locked onto him. “What are you doing with Mia? Can you stay the fuck away from my wife already?”
“Don’t get it twisted,” Gavin replied calmly, lifting his hands in surrender. “I ran into her. We talked. Had a little fun. Relax.” He shrugged. “And what do you even care? Aren’t you two divorced already?”
James stepped closer, his anger flaring hotter with every word. “It has nothing to do with you,” he growled. “It’s between her and me. Why the fuck are you interfering?”
“I’m not interfering with anyone,” Gavin said coolly, looking him up and down with open irritation. “What is it with you and your control issues?” His voice dropped, sharp and deliberate. “You’re not together anymore. And since you clearly don’t care about her… let me have her.”
Something in James snapped.
His expression darkened instantly, rage blazing in his eyes. “You—” he growled, then sneered. “Why don’t you just go home? Stop pretending you care. All you want is sex.”
Gavin stared at him in pure disbelief. “Are you out of your fucking mind?” he shot back. “When have I ever been so desperate for sex that I’d waste my time winning a woman over for it?”
“Shut up and get lost,” James barked, shoving Gavin hard in the shoulder and forcing him back toward the bar’s exit. “Go.”
Gavin stumbled a step, then straightened, irritation flashing across his face. “Fine. I’m leaving—for now,” he said sharply. “Take care of her. She’s in the washroom.”
He shot James one last displeased look before turning and walking out.
James dragged in a sharp breath, frustration burning through him as he paced outside the washroom. Back and forth. Back and forth. Each step felt heavier than the last.
Then—
Click.
The lock turned.
Mia stepped out, head lowered, eyes unfocused. She didn’t notice him at first as she moved toward the table—
And froze.
James stood directly in her path.
She startled, instinctively stepping back. His gaze dropped to her face, dark and sharp, unblinking as it took in her flushed cheeks and damp lashes.
“What are you doing here?” she demanded, her voice edged with suspicion. “Did you follow me?”
James dragged a hand through his hair, jaw tightening. Without answering, he pulled out his phone, unlocked it, swiped once—and thrust the screen toward her.
On it was a photo.
Her and Gavin. Sitting across from each other, drinks on the table between them.
“This,” James said tightly, eyes blazing as he stared her down, “is what you’ve been doing after leaving my house?”
Mia glanced at the screen. There was nothing inappropriate about it—just two people seated at a table. Still, her head throbbed as she lifted her gaze back to him, irritation simmering beneath the lingering haze of alcohol.
Without saying another word, she stepped past him.
“It’s none of your business,” she said flatly. “This is my life. I can do whatever I want.”
She tried to walk away.
James moved instantly, stepping in front of her again, blocking her path and forcing her to stop.
“How long are you going to stay out of the house like this?” James asked, staring straight into her eyes.
His anger hadn’t cooled—it had only tightened, coiling beneath his skin. Though his voice softened slightly, the agitation bled through every syllable.
“Let’s go home,” he said, reaching for her hand. “I’ll take you.”
Mia jerked away instantly.
“I don’t want to,” she snapped. “I told you—you and I are divorced. What are you even doing here?”
Instead of backing off, something in James hardened.
His jaw clenched as irritation flared openly across his face. Without warning, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her toward the table where she’d been sitting earlier, her bag still lying there. He forced her down into one of the chairs.
“Sit down,” he ordered sharply, impatience cutting through his voice.
“Let go!” Mia struggled, twisting her wrist, trying to pull free. “I don’t want to sit with you!”
He didn’t loosen his grip. If anything, his eyes darkened further, anger pulsing dangerously behind them.
His expression shifted—sharper, more intense, bordering on unhinged. He bent down as if to lift her straight into his arms.
Mia tore her hand free at the last second and shoved him back. “What is wrong with you?” she muttered under her breath, shaken and furious.
James didn’t seem to hear her. Their faces were inches apart as he lowered his voice into a quiet, dangerous growl.
“If you don’t sit here and talk to me,” he said slowly, “I’ll book a hotel room right now and lock you inside with me until you do.”