MAX’S POV
Okay, it was official.
Jason was a lovesick idiot.
Even in his intoxicated state, the only thing on his mind was Ella.
Not his company.
Not his reputation.
His vengeful, nightmare-inducing wife.
It was like he forgot she was on a personal mission to make his life a living hell.
At 7 PM sharp, Jason’s assistant called , sounding stressed out of his mind.
"Sir, Mr. King is in a foul mood today... and, um, he just walked into a bar."
Great.
Because that’s exactly what we need—Jason getting wasted while already on Ella’s bad side.
So, like the good friend that I was, I dragged Dylan along to go retrieve our newly married dumbass.
By the ti we got there?
Jason was already three drinks in, sulking over his wife.
And let tell you—drunk Jason was a whole experience.
First, he was muttering to himself about how "stupid Jake" was flirting with Ella.
Then, he started complaining about how Ella was his wife.
Then, five minutes later, he was clutching his whiskey glass like a heartbroken teenage girl, whining about how his marriage was a "war zone."
And when Dylan and I tried to reason with him?
He just waved his drink around dramatically, saying, "I should fight back, right?! Or is that the whiskey talking?!"
Yeah.
Jason King was down bad.
After a solid thirty minutes of Jason moping and drowning himself in whiskey, he suddenly stood up.
"I’m going to my wife."
Dylan and I exchanged looks.
Oh, this was going to be good.
Drunk Jason vs. Pissed-Off Ella?
This was reality TV-level entertainnt.
But as much as we wanted to witness the drama firsthand, we weren’t about to let him drive in his current state.
Cue the ten-minute wrestling match for his car keys.
Because, of course, Jason insisted that he was completely fine to drive.
anwhile, he was barely standing upright.
After so aggressive key-snatching and mild death threats, we finally stuffed him into the back seat.
That’s when the real dilemma hit.
Did we really want to take him back to his vengeful wife in this state?
Was the potential entertainnt value worth the risk of Ella committing homicide?
Probably not.
"Yeah, if we drop him off, we’ll have to collect his dead body in the morning," Dylan muttered.
"Not worth it," I agreed, starting the car.
But Jason?
Oh, Jason was not having it.
The second I took a turn away from his house, he started yelling.
"TAKE TO MY WIFE!"
"Dude, you need to sleep this off first," I tried to reason.
"MY WIFE WANTS HO!"
"Jason, buddy, I’m pretty sure Ella doesn’t—"
Before I could finish, he pulled out his phone and actually called her.
Dylan and I froze.
Oh, this was bad.
"Ella!" Jason slurred dramatically. "They are taking away from you! They don’t want to see you!"
My hands tightened on the steering wheel.
Oh, we are so dead.
"Jason, you idiot—" Dylan started, but Jason shushed him.
On the other end of the phone, Ella’s voice was sharp with concern.
"Jason? Are you drunk? Who are ’they’? Are you being kidnapped?"
Kidnapped.
Freaking kidnapped.
Dylan facepald. I resisted the urge to drive us off a cliff.
Forgetting that Ella was still on the phone, Jason yelled at again.
"MY WIFE WANTS HO! SHE TOLD YOU TO BRING HO!"
He sounded so proud of himself, like he just won a battle.
I sighed.
Yep. We were officially screwed.
Dylan and I just stared at each other, processing our impending deaths.
"Did... did he just tattle on us to Ella?" Dylan whispered, horrified.
"Yes," I said, gripping the steering wheel tighter.
"And did she just think we were kidnapping him?"
"Yep."
"...We’re so dead."
Jason, anwhile, was sitting in the backseat with a smug smile, looking like he just won the lottery.
"See?" he slurred. "She wants ho."
Dylan turned to , deadpan. "Guess we’re taking him ho."
"Do we have a choice?" I sighed, making a U-turn.
Jason cheered.
This fool.
He had no idea that we were delivering him to the lion’s den.
ELLA’S POV
Jason was drunk.
And apparently, being kidnapped.
By Max and Dylan.
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.
I had barely recovered from my hangover, and now this?
I glanced at the ti. It was past close to midnight.
This man was testing my patience.
The doorbell rang.
I already knew who it was.
I swung the door open, arms crossed.
And there he was.
Jason King.
Drunk, grinning, and swaying slightly.
Max and Dylan stood behind him, looking exhausted.
"Here," Max said. "Take your husband before he calls the cops on us for ’abduction.’"
Jason stumbled forward and imdiately wrapped his arms around .
"My wife," he mumbled into my hair. "You’re so pretty."
I froze.
Dylan coughed to cover his laugh.
Max held up his hands. "Okay, he’s your problem now. We did our part. Goodnight."
And with that, they ran for their lives.
Cowards.
Jason nuzzled closer.
"Ella..." He sighed dreamily. "My beautiful wife. My evil, terrifying wife."
I rolled my eyes.
"Alright, Roo. Inside. Now."
JASON’S POV
I felt warm.
And safe.
Which was weird, because usually, being around Ella felt like being near a nuclear bomb.
Maybe I was dreaming?
I cracked one eye open.
Nope. Not dreaming.
I was on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, with Ella sitting on the coffee table, arms crossed, watching like a hawk.
"You’re awake," she said flatly.
I groaned, rubbing my temples. My head throbbed.
"Why am I on the couch?" I muttered.
She raised an eyebrow. "You don’t rember?"
I tried.
Flashes of the night hit .
Whiskey.
Max and Dylan dragging .
Calling Ella.
Oh.
Oh no.
"...I may have made a mistake," I admitted slowly.
Her lips twitched.
Oh hell no—was she amused?
"You were very... expressive," she said.
I squinted at her. "Define expressive."
"You clung to like a koala and told I was beautiful. Then you called terrifying."
I groaned, covering my face.
"Also," she continued, "you announced to Max and Dylan that I was ’yours’ and then fell asleep in my lap."
I wanted to die.
She smirked.
"Don’t worry, darling. I got it all on video."
I sat up so fast I almost fell off the couch.
"YOU WHAT?!"
Ella laughed.
Not a sarcastic or bitter laugh.
A real, genuine laugh.
And for so stupid reason, even through my hangover misery, my heart skipped a beat.
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