All the red wine tilted forward—dumping straight over Alex's head.
The wine dripped from his hair, soaked his suit, and then splattered onto the floor.
Jett burst out laughing. "Look at you. I told you to take off that jacket. But no—you just had to make me help you. Now that I've helped, shouldn't you take it off?"
Alex's expression darkened.
"What? I went out of my way to assist you, and you're still not taking it off? Do you want me to strip it off myself? Honestly, with how much women adore you, helping you is practically my civic duty."
Jett reached out, grabbing at Alex's suit jacket.
"The suit I'm wearing was designed by Sophia, the top designer in the country. It cost one million. Would you like to pay by card or cash?"
The moment Alex finished speaking, the room erupted in laughter.
They weren't just laughing—they were mocking him.
A million-dollar suit? To them, it sounded like the biggest joke of the century.
