A chill seemed to sweep over Yvonne Young's heart.
She held her breath, her gaze fixed in place.
The man's drunken eyes were glazed over, squinting slightly as he stared at her.
She blinked in surprise, then smiled, "I have to go sing on stage in a moment, or the customers will start getting impatient."
The woman's smile was cold and heartless.
She pushed Spencer Sullivan's hand away, drained the glass of wine, and stood up.
She made her way to the stage.
As Spencer Sullivan's line of sight followed the slender figure of the woman to the center of the stage, a beam of light shone on her, and he excitedly raised his hands to grip the armrests of the sofa.
The woman's song was lively, her body swaying to the beat.
The feeling was both foreign and familiar.
Spencer Sullivan narrowed his eyes slightly, withdrawing his gaze, only for his eyes to land on the seat Yvonne Young had just left.
A strand of the woman's long hair caught his attention.