You Had Me, You Lost Me, You'll Never Find Me novel Chapter 120

Sylvia had thin skin and couldn't withstand the crowd's jeering, so she simply pecked Julian on the cheek to get it over with.

Tristan was the first to object. “No way! That was too half-assed. Do it again! It has to be on the lips!”

Ashton sat on the sidelines, watching with an icy, indifferent stare.

Seeing everyone get so out of control and start teasing Sylvia, Luke nervously kept an eye on Ashton, terrified he might flip the table. But looking at Ashton, he seemed completely unbothered.

Well, that made sense. Sylvia had been with Julian for a while now, and she was even pregnant. Why would Ashton care about a simple kiss at this point?

When Julian pulled Sylvia close and gave her a brief, chaste peck on the lips, the crowd was a bit disappointed, but they accepted it as a completed dare.

Tristan kept groaning in protest. “You can't get away with that next time! It has to be French!” He was seriously bummed about missing a steamy show.

The game continued. When it was Ashton's turn, he rolled snake eyes.

He immediately chose Sylvia to drink.

She looked over at him. Ashton's face was completely blank as he stated coldly, “If you won't drink, find a substitute.”

Since Sylvia was pregnant, she couldn't drink, meaning Julian would obviously have to take the fall. But with so many people at the table, Ashton had deliberately singled her out.

Julian didn't say a word. He simply downed the three glasses in quick succession.

The group quickly brushed past the awkward moment and kept playing. But on Ashton's next two turns, he rolled snake eyes again—and both times, he pointed straight at Sylvia.

The atmosphere instantly grew tense.

Everyone started to realize Ashton was doing this on purpose.

He was targeting Sylvia and Julian, making it blatantly obvious that he was pissed. Very pissed.

Recalling the kiss from earlier and the fact that Sylvia was Ashton's ex-girlfriend, the sharper folks in the room finally put two and two together.

This absolute menace was acting nonchalant, but he had just been waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The alcohol they were drinking didn't taste very strong, but it had a nasty kick. Drinking this much meant a guaranteed killer hangover the next day.

Julian glanced at Ashton, naturally picking up on the hostility as well. Without another word, he poured himself a fresh glass, raised it toward Ashton, and said, “I came here tonight to build bridges. I won't say anything more. Cheers.”

Perhaps due to the alcohol, he spoke slowly, but his meaning was loud and clear.

He was the one who had practically ripped her arm off, yet he was spitting out comments like that.

Coupled with the way he had relentlessly targeted her earlier, Sylvia felt this man was incredibly petty.

“Are you done throwing a tantrum, Ashton?”

Ashton stared down at her, a seductive smirk playing on his lips, though his voice was freezing cold.

“Not even close. Did you enjoy that kiss earlier?”

He wrapped an arm around her waist and effortlessly dragged her onto the dance floor.

Downstairs, the dance floor thumped with a heavy, seductive bass. The crowd was a blur of grinding bodies and uninhibited desire.

Beneath the flashing, kaleidoscopic neon lights, the entire scene felt surreal and chaotic.

Pulled right into the middle of the surging crowd, Sylvia panicked, having no idea what he was planning to do. She fought desperately to yank her hand away, but Ashton's grip was like an iron vice.

Amidst her struggling, Sylvia vaguely felt something come loose, but she didn't have time to worry about it. She glared furiously at Ashton. “What does it matter to you?”