Watching Timothy York pick up the photograph, the color seemed to drain from Summer Thorne's lips.
"I'm sorry."
Summer Thorne quickly snatched the photo from Timothy York's hand and stuffed it back into her handbag.
Then she stood up, took the decanter from the table, and after pouring a glass for Timothy York, poured one for herself as well.
Timothy York's gaze fell on the glass of wine. His expression grew stern, and when he spoke, his voice seemed to have turned a few degrees colder. "Are you sure you can still drink?"
Summer Thorne paused. After setting down the decanter, she picked up her glass and clinked it against the one in front of Timothy York.
Then, meeting Timothy York's gaze, she tilted her head back and downed the wine in one go.
"I can drink. I can drink a lot more."
Summer Thorne showed him her empty glass, then poured herself another. Just as she was about to drink again, Timothy York stopped her, taking the glass and placing it back on the table.
Summer Thorne was stunned for a few seconds before speaking again with a smile. "Mr. York, you may have misunderstood. That photo isn't of me... Before I came in, my husband's mistress gave it to me. She's also my former classmate."
Timothy York watched her quietly, not saying a word for a moment.
"I'm so sorry." Summer Thorne lowered her gaze with a small smile. "I was planning to treat you to a nice meal to thank you, but then this happened... I shouldn't have chosen this place."
Timothy York finally spoke, his tone light. "If you hadn't chosen this place, would nothing have happened?"
Summer Thorne turned to look at him. "At least I could be focusing on dinner with Mr. York, instead of thinking about other people's business."
Other people's business...
Those three words seemed simple, but they were quite revealing when you thought about them.
Timothy York didn't press the issue.
Summer Thorne didn't continue the topic either. Instead, she turned to look at the wine glass in front of him. "This wine is quite good, better than the one I gave Hugh Underwood last time. Won't you try it, Mr. York?"
Timothy York raised the glass to his lips, took only a small sip, and then set it down.
"Don't you like it?" Summer Thorne asked.
"It's not bad," Timothy York replied.
"So you're not satisfied, then." Summer Thorne suddenly stood up. "I'm treating you to dinner in good faith, Mr. York. Your dissatisfaction won't do. Shall we go pick out a good bottle?"
Timothy York raised his eyes slightly. "Where are we going to pick one?"
Summer Thorne blinked. "A secret spot."
She had specifically chosen the only private room with its own elevator, which led directly to the wine cellar in the basement.
Timothy York followed her out of the elevator and into a wine cellar with a classic American aesthetic. All kinds of fine wines were sorted and stored by category, looking very professional.
"This restaurant is run by my professor. Her husband is a sommelier and has collected a lot of good wine," Summer Thorne said. "I've requested the right to use this place for tonight."
Her smile was brilliant. She walked through the cellar, explaining things to him, and quickly picked out a bottle of Latour and a bottle of Margaux.
By the time she returned to Timothy York with the two bottles, she found him standing in front of a row of separate, temperature-controlled wine cabinets.
Summer Thorne hurried forward, positioning herself between him and the row of cabinets.
"Could we maybe not look in here?" She looked at him, her eyes filled with a sincere plea. "They're too expensive. I can't afford them."
Timothy York watched her calmly. "Didn't you say my satisfaction was what mattered?"
"What if you're satisfied after drinking these two?" Summer Thorne placed the two bottles on a nearby low table, then turned and said, as if in pain, "Or... you could pick two more?"
Timothy York didn't stand on ceremony with her and turned towards another rack of wine.
Summer Thorne followed him, weaving through the racks. She casually grabbed a bottle of whiskey, but before she could read the label, her vision went black. The entire wine cellar was plunged into darkness.
Two seconds later, Summer Thorne realized the power had gone out.
She felt her way along the wine rack for a couple of steps, only to bump into a man's solid frame.
He reached out and gently placed a hand on her waist.
In the darkness, Summer Thorne felt the searing heat from his palm. The air she breathed was filled with the deep, crisp scent of cedar from his body. At the same time, she heard his low, magnetic voice—
"Find any good wine?"
Summer Thorne didn't move. After a good while, she answered softly, "Whiskey. Want to try it?"
Timothy York didn't respond. Summer Thorne twisted the cap off and took a small sip directly from the bottle.
A smoky flavor instantly filled her mouth.
Summer Thorne swallowed the liquor with great difficulty and commented, "Doesn't taste good."
Timothy York's hand left her waist, and he then took the bottle from her.
Just as the lights came back on, Summer Thorne saw Timothy York standing in front of her, drinking a mouthful of wine from the same spot on the bottle she had just used.
After his Adam's apple bobbed a few times, he lowered the bottle.
Summer Thorne's gaze locked directly with his deep eyes.
"It's good," he said.
Summer Thorne lowered her gaze to the label.
It was a very ordinary brand.
But he said it was good.
Summer Thorne looked up and smiled. "Then I'll bring this bottle upstairs?"
"Alright."
The two of them walked to the elevator, one after the other, only to find it was temporarily out of order.
Summer Thorne paused, turned toward the main entrance, and tried to open the door, but discovered the power on this side hadn't been restored either.
She turned back and looked at Timothy York sheepishly. "I didn't bring my phone. Did you?"
"No."
"..."
Fortunately, both of them remained calm, and the wine cellar was full of things to pass the time.
The whiskey went without saying. The Latour and Margaux were opened as well, along with a Hennessy V.S.O.P, a Rémy Martin, and several other bottles.
Glass after glass was poured.
Summer Thorne eyed the various kinds of alcohol on the table, taking only a small sip from each glass.
But every glass she passed him, Timothy York drained completely.
By the end, she was already tipsy, while Timothy York seemed perfectly fine, still completely sober. He sat in the armchair with his long legs crossed, his distinguished air unchanged.
His alcohol tolerance was frighteningly high.
Summer Thorne curled up on the sofa, her head tilted against the armrest, and looked at him with a hazy gaze. "Have you ever been drunk, Mr. York?"
"No one is born a drinker."
"Then how many times do you have to get drunk to reach your level?"
Timothy York watched her, his eyes dark. "You wouldn't want to know."
Summer Thorne gave a small laugh and said, "That's true. Sometimes, being too sober isn't a good thing. It's better to get drunk and at least forget some of your troubles..."
After saying this, she gently closed her eyes, an uncontrollable sigh escaping her lips.
The wine cellar fell silent for a long time.
Until Timothy York's voice sounded again—
"Why do you want a divorce?"
Summer Thorne slowly opened her eyes and met his gaze again.
'Had she mentioned wanting a divorce to him?'
'She didn't think so.'
'The closest she had come was probably during their first meeting at Prospect Peak, when she mentioned divorce upon seeing Mason Crawford in the lobby.'
Summer Thorne didn't feel offended by the question.
"Mr. York, you may have heard that my family is in trouble. If I don't get a divorce, no one in the entire city will help me." After a pause, she suddenly let out a laugh. "Of course, an even worse outcome would be getting the divorce and still having no one help me."
"But that's all for later. For me, just being able to escape this hopeless marriage would be a blessing."
"You might not believe this, Mr. York, but I don't care how many women he has on the side, or how many children. This marriage was a mistake from the very beginning, anyway—"