2

2

The women clearly didn’t appreciate my tone. While Herman took them elsewhere, I stayed at the bar, sipping my drink and letting the noise around me drown out the tension.

As I sat there, I started observing the room. I half-listened to the cheerful conversations floating around, trying to shake off the weight of the day.

Herman returned alone and sat down beside me, his tone sharper now. “Adrian, you always hide behind excuses. Carmen was a beautiful woman. Do you even realize how unnecessarily cold you were?”

I looked him in the eye and said seriously, “You know damn well I can’t stand women like Carmen.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. But seriously—when was the last time you were even with a woman? And don’t count Sarah, Vincent’s sister, just because your mother wants to marry you off to her. I haven’t seen you with anyone in months. What’s going on? Did your preferences change or something?” he teased with a smirk.

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m just waiting for the right woman.”

“Oh, come on! There’s no such thing as ‘the right woman.’ Love is a complete myth. You’re just using it as an excuse. Drop the excuse and find someone already. Or you’ll end up giving in to your mother’s pressure and marrying your cousin.”

I stared at him thoughtfully, torn between resistance and reason. He had a point—maybe it was time to just let things flow. I had no intention of marrying Sarah, but how long could I keep fighting my mother?

“And who exactly am I supposed to find as an alternative to Sarah? If I ever do get serious, it has to be with someone so solid, my family won’t dare object. And don’t you dare suggest anyone like Carmen. My family would never accept her—and I want someone who won’t stab me in the back, either.”

Herman slowly swirled his drink, then suddenly his eyes lit up with mischief.

“Let’s play a little game,” he said. “From what I hear, your last assistant quit. Not that I’m surprised. But that means you’ll be hiring a new one soon, right?”

“Yeah, that’s true. What’s your point?”

“Instead of just choosing a new assistant, why don’t you pick your next lover from the pool of applicants?”

I stared at him, listening, though I wasn’t taking him seriously. Typical Herman—always the playboy.

“I prefer to keep my professional and personal lives separate.”

“With that attitude, you’re going to die alone. And let’s be real—even if you wanted someone, who the hell’s going to fall in love with a giant grump like you? Your assistants barely last a week!”

My brows furrowed involuntarily. He wasn’t wrong about the assistants. I was strict—demanding, even—and I didn’t tolerate mistakes. The long hours were too much for most people, even with the generous pay. Some I had to fire for being inappropriate. Still, hearing Herman throw it in my face was irritating.

“You’re wrong, Herman. If I wanted, I could make any woman fall in love with me. But I’m looking for something rational. If I find the right woman, I’ll marry her. Simple as that.”

“Well then,” he said with a grin, “hire your assistant accordingly. If she fits, marry her. If she doesn’t, fire her. But here’s the real question—if you do like her, can you get her to agree to marry you in a week?”

“Of course. I’m one of the most successful attorneys in the country. You underestimate my powers of persuasion, Doctor.”

Herman raised his glass. “Then shall we make it a bet? If you don’t fire the woman after her probation period, you’ll have one week to convince her to marry you.”

“Deal,” I said, smirking. “Loser pays one million dollars.”

“A million-dollar bet? You’re going to lose, Mr. Attorney.”

“We’ll see about that, Doctor.”

We shook on it and stood. I didn’t particularly like this game, but I had a fatal weakness—my obsession with winning every case I entered. And I wasn’t about to lose this one.

Not that it really mattered. I was certain the new assistant wouldn’t even make it to the end of her trial period.

So this bet? It would die long before the game even started.

⸻