Making a bet

In the Night Rose bar, a few men sat huddled around a table, their eyes scanning the room with lascivious interest. Their conversation drifted from one subject to another, all of them fixated on a single woman across the room.

"Oh my God! Look at her! The figure, the face—she's on another level! Compared to the other women here, they're nobodies!" one of the men, a portly figure, exclaimed with awe in his voice.

"She's stunning, no doubt about it. But she's too aloof. Within twenty minutes, seven guys tried to hit on her, and she turned them all down!" another man added, his voice tinged with frustration.

"Haha, girls like that are here for the rich guys. A loser like us won't even get a second glance," another man chuckled, shaking his head.

The first man smirked and added, "Well, if anyone can win her over, it's Jonathan Sinclaire. He's the eighth guy to try and chat her up. When it comes to women, no one can resist him. He'll have her in no time."

"Let's make a bet. I bet we'll see how long it takes Jonathan to win her heart," one of the men suggested, his tone challenging.

Just as John entered the bar, he overheard the conversation. With a grin, he approached the group, his confidence shining through. "What's this about a bet? I'll join."

The group looked him up and down, their eyes scanning his cheap clothes with a hint of disdain. One man sneered. "You? What are you doing here, loser? Save your money for a bus ticket."

Ignoring the insult, John pulled out a hundred-dollar bill, waving it in front of the group. "I bet Jonathan won't succeed with her."

"Really?" one man raised an eyebrow, chuckling. "A hundred bucks? You're rich!" The group mocked him, smirking at his boldness for betting so little.

The fat man from earlier, clearly amused by John's confidence, snatched the bill from his hand. "Alright, I'll take that bet. If Jonathan fails, I'll give you five hundred bucks."

"Deal," John said, his voice steady and calm. "But what do you think the chances are that I could approach her?"

Everyone burst into laughter, staring at John as if he were insane. "You? Approach her? You must be joking, right? Look at you—are you serious?" the fat man snorted.

But John, unfazed, looked them all in the eye. "What if I succeed?"

One of the men, still laughing, said, "If you succeed, I'll even broadcast it to everyone. You'll be famous!"

"Alright, don't forget that," John said, a mischievous smile spreading across his face.

With that, he confidently made his way toward the bar counter. Sitting there, alone and graceful, was the beautiful woman they were all talking about. Dressed in a stylish suit, she swirled her wine glass delicately, her figure commanding attention.

At her side, a well-dressed young man, none other than Jonathan Sinclaire, was in the middle of a conversation with her. "Beauty, I have to say, this place doesn't seem suited for you," he began smoothly.

"Why not?" she asked, clearly unimpressed.

"The bar is too vulgar for someone with your noble temperament," Jonathan said with a grin, clearly proud of his line.

The woman raised an eyebrow and replied dryly, "Do you always accost women like this?"

Jonathan's smile never wavered. "Not exactly. But I've been looking for someone worthy of my Dream of Stars, and now I've found her."

With a flourish, Jonathan revealed a blue crystal necklace, the latest limited edition from SWAROVSKI. It was rare and expensive, a piece of jewelry that could easily sway the heart of any woman.

But the woman barely glanced at it before looking away. "Sorry, I'm not interested," she said flatly, her disinterest evident.

At that moment, John arrived by her side, flashing a grin. "Oh, you beautiful thing! Look at you, with your perfect chest and hips. You're just made for having babies. How about I send you my gift?"

He pulled out a cheap plastic bracelet, twirling it between his fingers with a grin. Jonathan's eyes widened in disbelief.

"What the hell?" Jonathan muttered, watching the scene unfold. A cheap bracelet? Did this guy have no shame?

The men watching from a distance were equally stunned, unable to process what they were witnessing. Their jaws nearly hit the floor in shock.

To everyone's surprise, Queenie smiled, her face lighting up as she took the bracelet and hugged it to her chest. "Thank you," she said sweetly.

The fat man and his friends, who had been watching eagerly, couldn't believe their eyes. They were in shock. How had this happened?

"What the fuck?" one of them muttered, watching the scene unfold before him. "I'm dreaming, right?"

John, oblivious to their reactions, turned to face Jonathan. "You see, buddy, this plastic bracelet cost me almost twenty bucks. What do you think of that?"

Jonathan's face darkened. "It's cheap," he snapped, but John interrupted him.

"Hey, I'll give you a hint—it's not about the price of the gift. It's about the sincerity behind it," John said, a wink in his eye.

Jonathan was seething. "You gave her a shitty bracelet, and she smiles and accepts it. I gave her a crystal necklace, and she rejected it. What the hell is going on here?"

Queenie, still smiling, looked at him and said, "It's not about the value of the gift. What matters is who gives it. A gift can be priceless if it's from the right person."

John, watching all of this with amusement, realized he had not only won the bet, but he had also put Jonathan in his place. The fat man, embarrassed by what had just happened, hurriedly got up and fled the bar.

Jonathan, still in shock, could only watch as John and Queenie exchanged words, the spark of a playful challenge flickering between them.