)

Grayson gently caught her arm, steadying her. "Alison," he called out, his voice laced with a hint of concern.

Alison shook her head, as if trying to clear her thoughts. "Are you an angel?" she murmured in a dazed manner.

Grayson furrowed his brow. "It's me, Grayson Hawthorne."

She blinked, attempting to focus, and her eyes widened in recognition. "That's even better," she whispered, swaying slightly.

"She is definitely drunk," Grayson concluded. Taking Alison's hand, he guided her toward an unoccupied table nearby. "Come, let's sit down and talk," he suggested, leading her to a chair.

"No talking," she whispered, sinking into the seat.

Grayson ordered a glass of water for Alison and a fresh glass of wine for himself before turning his attention back to her. "What are you doing here?" his voice shifted into an inquisitive tone.

Alison's eyes remained fixed on Grayson's. "I... I don't know," she chuckled softly, her gaze dreamy. "I didn't plan on coming here. It just... happened."

Grayson's expression tightened. "And you coincidentally arrived here in this intoxicated state?" His tone was flat, devoid of any judgment or accusation.

Alison's lips curved into a smile, a glimmer of mischief in her eyes. She placed a finger against her lips. "No talking," she playfully whispered.

Grayson felt a vein throbbing in his temple as a mixture of concern and frustration washed over him. Leaning back in his chair, Grayson took a sip of his wine, his mind racing with thoughts. He studied Alison intently, taking note of her appearance.

Her lips appeared redder than usual, a telltale sign of indulging in too much wine. His gaze then shifted to her hair, noticing the mess that suggested something had been torn out of it—a missing hair tie, perhaps. Grayson's eyes travelled down, taking note of Alison's attire. Her dress, tight around her waist, accentuated her curves. And then there were her bare feet, lacking any shoes. Grayson's gaze lingered on her delicate soles, puzzled by the absence of proper footwear. It was another piece of the puzzle that intrigued and concerned him.

Lost in his thoughts, Grayson was abruptly pulled back to the present as Alison's hand gripped his jaw, bringing his face closer to hers. Her glassy blue eyes, shimmering with an unusual vulnerability, locked onto his. The scent of red wine wafted between them, a reminder of her recent indulgence.

A soft chuckle escaped Alison's lips, her voice tinged with both amusement and a hint of melancholy. "My eyes are up here," she whispered, her hands trembling slightly as she released her hold on him.

He blinked, momentarily taken aback, before meeting her gaze once more. "This is going to be a long night," Grayson whispered to himself, letting out a deep sigh.