Mr. Fairchild's Rose: She is Wild and Proud-Chapter 89: She Was Completely Unaware of the Danger

The people in the film crew, there are many that Sarah Sutton doesn’t know, but she is naturally friendly, and after chatting with a group of people, they are more familiar with each other. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

At the same time, she returned to her seat, smelling a strong scent of alcohol beside her.

Sarah Sutton’s body shook, a sense of foreboding surged up inside her.

She turned her face to look.

Maeve Lane’s face was as red as a tomato!

Her fingers trembled, instinctively moving a little away from Maeve Lane, "Maeve, have you been drinking?!"

"Yes."

Maeve Lane answered seriously, with eyes remaining calm, but her cheeks were red enough to drip blood. This couldn’t have been just a small sip; even to Maeve Lane, this must have been a whole cup!

Sarah Sutton quickly pulled Maeve Lane over, seeing that she was just drunk and had no other unusual reactions, she felt relieved. She turned to Nina Quinn and asked, "Nina, who gave her this drink?"

Nina Quinn hadn’t noticed what’s happening with Maeve Lane and shook her head anxiously.

Sarah Sutton felt a headache but decided to take Maeve Lane back first to avoid getting targeted by anyone.

Director Dayne and the others were having a brotherly exchange, toasting each other, not noticing their movements over here.

And those coming to toast Julian Fairchild were all blocked by Miles Hughes one by one.

After thinking it over, Sarah Sutton said, "Nina, call a car. Help Maeve, I’ll go inform Director Dayne that she’s drunk and we’ll head back first."

Nina Quinn nodded and was about to pull out her phone to call a car, but was stopped by Miles Hughes with a smile.

She looked at him, confused.

Leaning back against the chair, Julian Fairchild lifted his eyelids, voice elegant and noble—

"She’s drunk?"

Sarah Sutton froze for a moment and answered, "Yes, Maeve’s alcohol tolerance isn’t good, probably can’t continue eating."

Julian Fairchild glanced at Maeve Lane, who was all full of alcohol smell, and slightly frowned.

Just this small cup.

How could Zoe get this drunk?

With this alcohol tolerance, how dare she drink outside?

He stood up and said lightly, "No need to call a car; we’re leaving too."

Sarah Sutton was slightly puzzled but felt there was nothing inappropriate.

Julian Fairchild never liked these occasions and rarely attended. It was quite rare for him to come today.

Thus, after greeting Director Dayne, they left first.

When Maeve Lane gets drunk, it’s as if she splits into two personalities.

Either she stays quiet like she hasn’t drunk at all, able to respond normally, only blushing ridiculously and speaking gently.

Or she gets combative, wanting to take on ten at once, confronting gods and demons alike.

Tonight’s Maeve Lane seems to be the former.

She didn’t dare leave Maeve Lane alone in the back seat, always holding her hand on the way back to the crew hotel.

When Maeve Lane was sent back to her room, usually cold as ice, now she was so obedient she seemed almost unrecognizable.

Sarah Sutton saw that Maeve Lane had fallen asleep on the bed and finally breathed a sigh of relief, feeling thankful nothing went amiss today.

When leaving the room, she carefully checked to ensure it was locked before leaving.

...

Julian Fairchild came out of the bathroom wearing a bathrobe, discovering the suite’s door was not closed.

But after only a few steps, his footstep halted abruptly.

His dark eyes were as deep as the sea, blood seemed engulfed in raging fire, his entire body in a fervor.

Maeve Lane had somehow ventured into his room.

The floor-to-ceiling window reflected the dim moonlight outside, Maeve Lane in a stunning red dress, her delicate collarbone lightly flushed, likely due to the alcohol, mesmerizingly rosy. Her ample chest, slender waist, the cheongsam-style cut revealing two long, slender white legs, accentuating her rounded hips.

Just her silhouette could evoke the most primal desires within a man’s heart.

Yet, her face rosy, expression coy, utterly unaware of any danger.