Love's Wild Card

What is life? Life is walking down Fifth Avenue with Anne Hathaway on your arm, then finding your eyes wandering when Scarlett Johansson passes by. Even if you manage to keep both of them—one on each arm—you'll still turn your head when Blake Lively appears. Such is the eternal struggle of man.

By all accounts, Emma Carter was a stunning beauty herself. Yet as she bounced along behind him like an excited puppy, Alex felt anything but the thrill of life's possibilities.

"Alex, where are we going?"

"Alex, can we visit the Empire State Building?"

"Alex, what's that over there?"

"Alex...!"

Walking ahead, Alex finally reached his limit. He stopped abruptly and turned, gripping the chattering heiress firmly by her shoulders.

"If you don't stop talking for one minute, the shopping trip is off!" His tone carried a clear threat, though he immediately regretted his harshness when faced with her response.

"Am I... really that annoying?" Emma clasped her hands together, looking up at him with those impossibly large eyes. Her cherry-red lips formed a slight pout, nose wrinkling delicately as her eyebrows drew together in distress. A sheen of tears gathered in her eyes as she perfected the picture of wounded innocence.

A lethal attack—absolutely lethal!

Alex lowered his head in defeat as passing pedestrians shot him disapproving looks. He really shouldn't have agreed to this shopping expedition. He could have just given her money to shop alone. But now that they were here, what could he do? If he backed out now, heaven knew what dramatic scene the heiress might create. He'd become Manhattan's public enemy number one.

"It's fine, I was just kidding," Alex muttered, turning to continue walking.

"I knew you were joking! Alex is always so good to me!" Her woeful expression instantly transformed into a brilliant smile. Emboldened by his surrender, she latched onto his arm, pressing herself against his side as they walked. Her soft curves seemed to find every opportunity to brush against him with each step.

Just perfect. How was he supposed to appreciate Manhattan's scenery with this clingy heiress attached to him?

They were headed to SoHo's shopping district. Alex had discovered the area recently with Grace and Emma Winter—it was perfect for people-watching, though he hadn't had much chance to appreciate the views that day. Being Saturday, the streets would be busy with Manhattan's fashionable crowd.

This was just the appetizer before tomorrow's main course with the office group at the West Side Mall.

After careful observation, Alex had concluded that SoHo could rival Fifth Avenue as a prime location for appreciating Manhattan's beauty—both architectural and human. With its concentration of boutiques, galleries, and cafes, plus excellent transit access, the beautiful people density was pleasingly high.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Emma suddenly grabbed Alex's arm, forcing him to stop.

"What now?" Alex asked warily. Having her around was proving quite inconvenient—he'd missed several prime "chance encounters" with passing beauties already.

"Aren't you supposed to be helping me shop today?" Emma fixed him with an accusatory stare.

"I suppose so," Alex answered noncommittally.

"Then come with me!" With a triumphant smile, Emma dragged him into a nearby boutique. She'd apparently already spotted something she liked.

*Oh hell—Giorgio Armani?* This woman certainly knew her brands!

Men would spend fortunes to possess it, while women would lose themselves in its allure—such was the legend of Armani.

Alex found himself wondering how Giorgio Armani had gone from studying medicine to revolutionizing fashion, managing to make his mark on the international stage. Even more remarkably, how had he succeeded in bringing his boundary-pushing designs to conservative Italy with such finesse?

Alex self-consciously adjusted his casual pants, checking the label inside. *Damn, same brand.*

His knowledge of luxury brands was limited—Chanel and Armani were the only international ones he really knew, mostly learned from Grace.

"Alex, what do you think of this one?" Emma held up an outfit, twirling playfully before him.

"How am I supposed to judge without seeing it on?" Alex replied irritably, distracted by several attractive customers browsing nearby. No wonder—women were often drawn to Armani's elegant minimalism. Anyone shopping here typically had both means and taste.

"You're right!" Emma nodded and followed a sales assistant to the fitting room.

Alex looked around the store, suddenly aware of something odd. Why were other customers being greeted with warm smiles and attentive service, while he was being completely ignored? Did he not look like a potential customer?

He glanced at a fashionably dressed couple nearby, then down at his hundred-dollar t-shirt. Different leagues entirely. True, his pants were Armani, but the label was hidden inside—perhaps he should wear them inside out?

High-end international boutiques shouldn't judge customers by appearances. Looking around again, he noted all the sales staff wore identical uniforms—the manager must be absent.

This is about class, he thought ruefully. In Europe or even other parts of America, you could walk into luxury stores wearing cheap clothes and still receive proper service. The staff would never look down on you.

But here, if you weren't dressed expensively enough, you'd feel uncomfortable even entering high-end stores. The judgmental looks from sales staff created an invisible barrier.

Damn it! Street vendors selling thirty-dollar clothes show more enthusiasm than you people. Don't act superior just because you work in a fancy store. Alex glared at the staff who'd been treating him like he was invisible. Their attitude was a stark contrast to the lingerie boutique from the other day.

"Miss, please show me all your new summer arrivals!" A woman swept in with an arrogant air, a man trailing behind her. Despite her designer outfit, her overdone makeup and manner screamed nouveau riche. The other female customers subtly distanced themselves—standing near the genuinely wealthy was fine, but this sort was embarrassing by association.

"Of course, madam! One moment please!" The saleswoman smiled warmly.

Hypocrite, Alex thought. She's clearly over forty, yet you're calling her 'miss.'

"Alex, how's this?" Emma's voice called out. Alex turned away from the vulgar scene to look at her.

"Oh!" The sight gave him pause. While her personality could be exhausting, Emma's beauty was undeniable. The dark, sophisticated blazer over a low-cut white silk blouse perfectly balanced elegant refinement with subtle allure. Slim-cut trousers showcased her long legs to perfection.

Damn, she's tempting! If her inner beauty matched her outer appearance, Alex might actually consider pursuing her seriously.

"Miss, you look absolutely stunning! This outfit could have been made for you!" The sales assistant who'd been hovering by the fitting room gushed. Her goal was clearly to secure a sale, but Alex—a master of such tactics himself—could read every calculating gesture and phrase.

"It's nice, but isn't it a bit warm for summer? All these layers in this heat?" Alex critiqued mercilessly. If not for the staff's earlier snobbery, he might have offered genuine praise.

"Sir, these pieces are made with excellent breathable fabrics. The temperature regulation is quite advanced," the saleswoman replied, clearly annoyed at his criticism.

'It's not like you're wearing it, why interfere?' her expression seemed to say.

"Breathable?" Alex smirked. "Put those layers on yourself for a day without getting heatstroke, and I'll buy every piece in the store!"

"You—!" The saleswoman's face reddened, though she maintained a strained smile.

"Hmm, I'll try something else then!" Emma, clearly understanding who held the purchasing power, grabbed another dress and returned to the fitting room.

"Sir, that outfit really did suit your lady beautifully," interjected the man who'd entered with the nouveau riche woman. The saleswoman flashed him a grateful smile for coming to her defense.

"Did I ask for your opinion?" Alex didn't even turn to look at him. "Don't act superior just because you're wearing a suit and tie. Who are you? Some kept man trying to show off?"

"You... you clearly don't belong in a place like this!" The man's face flushed with embarrassment and anger.

Looking more closely at him now, Alex felt a niggling sense of recognition. Where have I seen him before?

"David Walker," the overdressed woman announced proudly. "Columbia graduate, top of his class."

"David Walker?" The name hit Alex like a thunderbolt. "Well, well... Manhattan really is a small world. And what a transformation—from that skinny scholarship student to... this. Was it plastic surgery, or just good living?"

"You... know me?" David frowned, clearly struggling to place Alex.

"Of course I remember you! But people can really surprise you. That earnest student who used to share cup noodles with Jennifer Blake, now playing sugar baby to—"

"Let's go!" David cut him off sharply, face pale at the mention of Jennifer's name. He grabbed his companion's arm and tried to leave.

"Running away? Now that you've got your sugar mama, have you forgotten the woman who loved you when you were nobody?" Alex blocked their path.

Jennifer Blake had been special—the only woman who'd ever seen through Alex's playboy facade during their university days. Beautiful, brilliant, and principled, she'd chosen to share four-dollar noodles with the then-penniless David rather than accept Alex's diamond gifts.

"You're... you're that Alex Stone? The notorious Tyrant?" David finally placed him, eyes widening in recognition.

"'Tyrant'? That's ancient history. I was just a worthless troublemaker back then, nothing like you've become..." Alex's voice dripped sarcasm. "Look at you now—designer suit, perfect hair, suspiciously smooth skin. You've certainly exceeded expectations, old friend."

After more heated exchanges and a solid punch that sent David sprawling, Alex watched the man hurry away with his sugar mama, feeling his anger dissolve into pity. The poor student who'd won Jennifer's heart with his integrity and ambition had become... this.

"Men are all goddamn bastards!" Alex shouted, not caring about the startled looks from other customers.

The shopping expedition wrapped up quietly after that. Back at his apartment that evening, Alex sprawled on his sofa, exhausted in body and spirit.

"What a wonderful day!" Emma chirped, practically bouncing as she disappeared into her room with her shopping bags.

"Bring me some water!" Alex called out. After advancing her thirteen years' worth of wages for today's shopping spree, he deserved some service.

"Right away!" Emma emerged with water and fruit, settling beside him on the sofa.

"So, good day?" he asked wearily.

"The best! Can we go again tomorrow?"

"Absolutely not! You spent over a hundred thousand dollars today—that was my wedding fund! Are you trying to keep me single forever?"

"If you're so poor, why were you so generous?" Emma asked, genuinely curious.

"Because eventually you'll go home, and your father—my boss—will reimburse me. Maybe even give me a bonus for looking after you."

"Is that... is that the only reason you helped me?" Emma's voice held a note of disappointment.

"Well, if you don't repay me, you'll have to work as my housekeeper for thirteen years!"

"Really? You mean it?" Emma's face lit up with unexpected delight.

"Uh... yes?" Alex replied uncertainly.

"Perfect! Then I'll stay here forever! This is so much better than home—there's food, shopping, and you're here to take care of me. I officially declare this my new home!"

"Wait, what? This isn't what I—" Alex protested.

"I'm only twenty-five now, so thirteen years takes me to thirty-eight. I should live to at least seventy, so that leaves... thirty-two more years of possible wages! Hey, where are you going? Don't you want to see what I bought? Alex, open the door!"

"Why don't you just let me support you entirely?" Alex's anguished cry came through his bedroom door.

"If you're offering, I wouldn't mind!"

"ARGH! Is this some kind of divine punishment?"

"No cursing in front of me!" Emma called out sternly, while a sly smile played across her face.

"..."