Rose's POV
I still had no idea what Irene wanted to talk to me about. Even now, as I sat there waiting, it was a mystery gnawing at the back of my mind.
I was at the same table where we'd been drinking last night. With the same seat and the same faint scent of spilled alcohol clinging to the wood.
"It seems you're going for a round two. Didn't manage to satisfy you last night, eh?"
The bartender's voice broke my thoughts. He was smirking, elbows on the counter like he was in on some secret.
I forced a wry smile, trying to shake off the lingering haze from last night. "Well, I'm not really here for drinks today," I said, matching his tone but keeping my voice light.
"Oh, is that so?" he asked, one brow lifting.
"Just juice is enough," I told him, my fingers drumming idly against the table.
