With his eyes closed, Sylvan Cheney was drunk, and it was unclear if it was a headache or something else, but his brow was tightly furrowed.

Exhausted from the chaos, he stopped making noise and leaned back on the sofa.

The room was filled with the smell of alcohol, and the floor was a mess, strewn with bottles, wine glasses, and spilled red wine. Things had been smashed too, but luckily there were no valuables in the room.

Several burly Americans watched Sylvan Cheney intently, preventing him from smashing things again.

Jasmine Yale couldn’t stand the chaotic smell, so she stood carefully at the door, glancing at Kade Yuvan and Sylvan Cheney.

Sylvan Cheney probably hadn’t realized she had arrived, as he kept his eyes shut and said nothing.

Kade Yuvan looked at the bodyguards and asked, "When is your boss coming? I’ll stay to negotiate the compensation, but let’s let our president go home first."

The tall men exchanged glances with each other, not giving a clear answer.

"I’m not going back..." Sylvan Cheney spoke, his face flushed from the alcohol, his voice cold and hoarse, "I’m not drunk, I’m not going back."

Kade Yuvan was helpless and had to step around the broken glass on the floor, "President, the doctor already said you shouldn’t drink too much. Let’s go home."

"I said I’m not going back, and that’s that!" Sylvan Cheney’s temper flared.

"President, you’ve smashed the alcohol and fought with people; it’s better to go back and rest. We can come back and drink tomorrow," Kade Yuvan tried to persuade him.

"Are you annoying or what? Go away."

With that, Sylvan Cheney reached out to grab a bottle nearby.

However, all the bottles had already been smashed, and he couldn’t find any.

"Where’s the alcohol? What kind of bar is this? Where’s the alcohol?" Sylvan Cheney demanded angrily.

Just as he was about to lose his temper, the bodyguards pinned him down to stop him from moving.

Kade Yuvan had to smile apologetically, "It’s okay, it’s okay, don’t touch him; our president is just a bit too drunk."

"When will your boss arrive?" Jasmine Yale asked from the door, her voice calm.

Her voice was not loud and was almost drowned out by the loud music outside, like a crisp thread.

The familiar voice made Sylvan Cheney open his eyes again, and he looked over.

After a while, he spoke heavily, still under the influence of alcohol, "Jasmine Yale?"

Jasmine Yale stared at him for quite some time.

The man was covered in wine stains, his shirt was in disarray, and his unshaven chin looked like it hadn’t been groomed in days. His complexion was haggard, with red eyes filled with bloodshot vessels and inebriation.

"Yes, yes, President, it’s Jasmine. You should go home with Jasmine; leave this to me," Kade Yuvan quickly said.

Sylvan Cheney looked away, "Why should I go home with her? I’m not anything to her; why would I go home with her?"

"No... it’s not that; you should go home to your own place with Jasmine," Kade Yuvan was speechless.

"I’m not going back. An unmarried man and woman in a room alone—what if she tries something on me?"

Jasmine Yale: "..."

Kade Yuvan: "..."

"Where’s the alcohol? Kade, get me a bottle of alcohol, get me a bottle of alcohol in five minutes, or I’ll fire you tomorrow!" Sylvan Cheney looked at Kade Yuvan, his body feeling hot and restless, he couldn’t help but tug at his shirt collar.

His shirt was already in complete disarray, and with this tug, it exposed his wheat-colored skin and sensual collarbone, full of wildness and animal magnetism.

"Where’s your boss? Why hasn’t he arrived yet?" Jasmine Yale said, "If he doesn’t come soon, we’ll just take him and leave."

Once again, the bodyguards exchanged looks with each other.

The leader of the bodyguards had no choice but to take out his phone and make a call.