LEGAL ENTANGLEMENT [2]

The next morning, Quentin arrived at the firm early, his mind already occupied with the paperwork from the Monroe deal. But the moment he reached his desk, a sleek black envelope rested atop his neatly stacked files.

Curious, he picked it up, breaking the wax seal to reveal an elegant card inside.

You owe me a drink for keeping things interesting.7 PM. Bellevue Lounge. Don't be late.

—Avie

Quentin huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. The audacity. The sheer nerve.

And yet, as he glanced at the clock, he found himself making a mental note to leave the office a little earlier that evening.

Trouble, indeed.

The Bellevue Lounge was the kind of establishment that catered to the elite—dim lighting, plush seating, and an extensive selection of vintage liquor. Quentin arrived at exactly 7 PM, spotting Avie effortlessly holding court at a corner booth, a martini glass balanced between her fingers.

She glanced up as he approached, lips curling into a satisfied smirk. "Punctual. I'll admit, I half-expected you to be fashionably late."

Quentin slid into the seat across from her. "And give you the satisfaction of calling me predictable? Never."

She chuckled, setting her drink down. "Smart man. What's your poison?"

"Whiskey. Neat."

Avie signaled the waiter without missing a beat, then leaned in slightly, studying him. "So tell me, Quentin Rome—are you always this composed, or do I just bring out the best in you?"

He met her gaze, unruffled. "Depends. Are you always this persistent, or do I just intrigue you more than you care to admit?"

Her laugh was low, warm, and laced with something almost challenging. "Careful, Suit. You might just be right."

The drinks arrived, and as the evening unfolded, the lines between rivalry and fascination blurred, the air between them charged with something neither was quite ready to name. But one thing was certain—this was only the beginning.