Chapter 852
In just a few minutes, Finley and his men had completely wiped out every dish on the table. All that was left were scraps and cold broth—not even a bite worth eating.
‘Had these guys not eaten in months?’ Irene cursed them in her head, though she forced a polite smile.
On the other hand, Christina had not touched her utensils. She could not stand any of them except for Finley, and even he was not much better.
One look at the rest of the Hidden Dragons, and it was obvious—they were nothing but brainless thugs, leering at her with disgusting eyes.
Leroy let out an awkward laugh. “Mr. Moore, if the food wasn’t enough, I’ll have the housekeepers whip up some more. Come on, let’s drink instead! Tonight, we’re drinking until we drop!”
Finley smirked. “My boys measure their alcohol in barrels, not glasses. You’re Christina’s little brother, right? I’d hate to see you end up in the hospital.”
Leroy was desperate to get on Finley’s good side, so there was no way he would back down.
He pounded his chest and said, “Come on, Mr. Moore, don’t underestimate me! I might not be a match for you in a fight, but when it comes to drinking? In Jayrodale, I’ve never lost!”
Finley let out a low chuckle. To him, Leroy was nothing more than an eager little lackey—not even worth his time. Still, since he was here to eat at the Stevens mansion, he had to at least play along, so he turned to his crew and said, “Alright, boys, keep him company. But don’t overdo it—we wouldn’t want the kid ending up in the ER.”
His men said nothing; they just poured the drinks and started knocking them back.
Leroy refused to admit defeat, gulping down glass after glass, matching them round for round.
Meanwhile, Finley turned his attention back to Christina and smiled. “Ms. Stevens, why don’t you have a drink with me too?”
Christina shook her head. “Sorry, Mr. Moore, I don’t drink.”
Originally, the plan was to invite the Hidden Dragons over and see if they could form a connection.
However, she had not expected Finley and his crew to be so crude, spending the whole night stuffing their faces, getting wasted, and throwing around dirty jokes that made her sick to her stomach.
At this point, she regretted ever listening to Irene and letting these men into her home.
The way they acted—like wild beasts—gave her a terrible feeling.
Finley’s smirk deepened. “Ms. Stevens really is untouchable, huh? Like some ethereal being who doesn’t mingle with us mere mortals. If you won’t even have a drink with me, then why did you invite me here in the first place?”
As he spoke, he slid a full glass of liquor across the table and placed it in front of her. He added, “Drink with me, and we’ll talk business. If you refuse, then I’ll take that as an insult—like you’re looking down on me."
“And if that’s the case, then tell me, Ms. Stevens—why did you even invite me here, if all you’re gonna do is disrespect me?”
By the time he finished speaking, his expression had darkened, his tone laced with warning.
Christina could not believe the bastard was sitting in her home and still had the audacity to threaten her.
Irene, afraid her daughter would make things worse, quickly forced a laugh and tried to smooth things over. “Mr. Moore, please don’t be upset. Christina is a lady, after all. She really doesn’t drink much; look at that full glass, there’s no way she can handle that.”
Finley’s grin was all teeth. “Fine, then let her pour her own. I came here out of respect, Ms. Stevens, so the least you can do is have one drink with me.”
His tone made it clear—this was not a request.
Christina had already been holding back all night, but this was the final straw. She was one second away from pointing at the door and telling Finley to get the hell out.