The alcohol was already working through her system, making her more emotional, more reckless, but the sheer desperation in her voice kept her momentarily grounded.
The special blend of dry martini was indeed effective. Perhaps he should consider giving her a raise next month.
With a measured movement, he reached out and took her small hands in his, feeling the warmth of her skin against his own. Riley was so focused on his words that she didn't even notice the gesture.
"You said your grandmother's illness is late-stage liver cancer," he said smoothly. "With something that advanced, Western medicine is practically useless. Not only would it fail to cure her, but it would also prolong her suffering and drain your finances."
Riley's breath hitched. The fear of losing everything, her grandmother, her money, her last shred of hope, gripped her all over again.
"Then… then what should I do?" Her voice quivered, teetering on the edge of another breakdown.
