No More Mrs. Nice Wife (Eleanor) novel Chapter 12

The mood in the room was lively, everyone in high spirits. Eleanor sat back, content to watch the commotion, hoping they'd all have their fun and call it a night before too long.

A waiter appeared, covering three bottles of wine with a dark cloth. On his tray sat three glasses, each already poured. The rules were simple: take a sip, guess the main flavor, and say it out loud.

Ian was the first to be volunteered. He swirled a glass of red, tipped it to his lips, and took a slow sip. "Blackcurrant," he said calmly.

"Correct. Next."

In no time, the tray was in front of Vanessa. She picked up her glass with practiced elegance, swirled it, and bit her lip in thought. "Is it… oak barrel?"

With a grin, Henry pulled back the cloth from the bottle. "Miss Shannon, wrong this time, I'm afraid."

Vanessa gave him a pleading look. "Then, Mr. Holt, please be gentle with my punishment."

"You'll just have to finish your glass." Henry laughed.

Vanessa eyed the wine with mock distress, her brows knitting together as she coughed delicately behind her hand.

"I'll drink it for her," someone offered.

Ian reached over, picked up Vanessa's glass, and downed it in one easy motion.

Eleanor watched, her expression unreadable. Vanessa always knew just how to tug at Ian's heartstrings.

Under the soft glow of the chandelier, Vanessa's porcelain skin flushed with a faint pink as she turned to Ian. "Thank you."

Next up was Joel. He took a thoughtful sip, then shrugged. "Just a guess—graphite? Not sure if I'm right."

"Well, would you look at that," Henry said, impressed. "Even your guess is on point."

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