In a fit of rage, she smashed her champagne glass on the marble floor and stared defiantly at him, “Stop telling me what to do!” she shouted, slightly slurring her words, “You are not her, you don’t get to order me around. I’m a grown woman. I make my own decisions.”

Around them, middle-aged men and women stared at them, some with their mouths gaped, and even the band had stopped playing as the players stood up to catch the action.

“Now now, sister, you’re making a scene.” He said through his gritted teeth. “You promised me you wouldn’t do that tonight.”

The night had completely backfired on him. He thought if he could get her drunk enough, then she would be more compliant. After all, such a miracle had happened once before, who’s to say it wouldn’t happen again? It was exactly what he needed at the moment, especially after the sudden passing of their mother a week ago, the future of their family’s company was dependent on this night.

The thing was that was only her first glass of champagne. He tried to recall whether her breath had wreaked of alcohol on the ride over but couldn’t. He swore he had been watching her like a hawk all day, to make sure she was sober, so he could control and time her intake of alcohol. There was no way she could’ve snuck it in before the soirée.

He tried to wrap his arm around her shoulder, but she batted away. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“Sister, just how much have you drunk tonight?”

“Why do you care?” She barked and stalked toward the restroom but not even five steps forward, he watched her back twisted backward and ran forward to catch her before her head hit the floor.

Written for Mindlovemisery’s Menagerie Saturday Mix #StoryStarter