Entangled with Mr. Lawyer After One Night Stand-Chapter 2 - : What Men Most Fear Is Being Told They Are Not Good Enough

Andrew Locke's office is situated in the most renowned building in Capital Port, occupying the prime C position. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows, one can overlook the entire bustling night scenery of Capital Port.

It's said that a metropolitan drama once wanted to rent his office for filming—Lawyer Locke quoted them a billion a day, which was enough to send those capitalists running with their tails between their legs.

Andrew Locke sat on the sofa with a coffee cup in hand, his gaze fixed on Nora Hart.

This woman, once clothed, was the innocent flower of the entertainment industry; once undressed, a veritable siren capable of causing mayhem in the world of men.

She had a face that could oscillate between innocence and allure. At the time of her debut, she was even the subject of favorable comments by the young masters of Capital Port.

"I have a case I'd like to ask for Lawyer Locke's assistance with."

Andrew Locke, stirring his coffee with a spoon, replied coldly, "Even a scoundrel clad in fine clothing deserves Miss Hart's request for help?"

Nora Hart wore a merry smile on her face but inwardly cursed: "Perhaps Mr. Locke isn't aware, but 'a scoundrel clad in fine clothing' can be a compliment at specific moments."

"Such as?" Andrew's tone remained frosty.

"In bed," Nora Hart scrambled to add.

A faint glimmer passed through Andrew's deep-set eyes: "Just to remind Miss Hart, my consultation fee is ten thousand per hour."

Nora Hart: ......"It's truly lamentable that Mr. Locke doesn't resort to robbing banks."

"I prefer it when brainless, rich folks like you hand their money over to me."

Nora Hart felt her blood boil, modern karma to her was just too damn swift.

"Will Mr. Locke take on my case, or not?"

"I won't," Andrew Locke didn't even hesitate.

"Why not?"

"The male lead in adult films would probably have better skills than me, Miss Hart, why don't you consider that? If not, college athletes are also a good choice."

Nora Hart: .....

She should've never resorted to alcohol to drown her sorrows—it's turned out to be nothing but an attempt to douse fire with oil.

With so many men in the world, why did she have to mess with Andrew Locke?

What, was her family grave emitting green smoke?

To think she, Nora Hart... Capital Port's number one beauty, the innocent flower of the entertainment industry, could end up falling at the hands of this man?

Nora Hart faked a smile: "Mr. Locke, there's no need to hold such a grudge, is there?"

Andrew lazily leaned back on the sofa, coffee cup poised between his fingers: "Miss Hart, coming to me to fill the void left by your fiancé is one thing, but treating me like a gigolo is something else."

"Holding a grudge?"

"Not desecrating Miss Hart's family grave is already showing restraint."

Nora Hart's hand propped under her chin rubbed her temples. She couldn't afford to get angry; a hundred billion was at stake!

The life of a poor person isn't even worth living like a dog.

"How about this: Mr. Locke, go ahead and dig up my ancestral grave. Holding grudges is bad for your health, and keeping pent-up anger leads to baldness. For the sake of Mr. Locke's hair, allow me to take you to dig up the grave."

Andrew Locke, looking at Nora Hart, seemed startled by her brazen words: "Tsk, Miss Locke is really quite filial."

"As for the family graves, being buried for too long means they need a change of Feng Shui. It's for their good as well—changing houses, who wouldn't want that?"

Andrew Locke laughed. Nora Hart was as unreliable as always: "Unexpectedly, Miss Hart doesn't only lack good looks, but her heart seems pretty kind too."

Nora Hart reached her limit of tolerance. From childhood to adulthood, no one had ever told her she wasn't pretty; Andrew Locke, that damn dog, was the first.

To lick him should be considered his good fortune; how dare this dog still be so choosy?

Nora Hart abruptly stood up from the sofa, grabbed the coffee on the coffee table and splashed it over him, her anger uncontainable: "You skinflint, if you can't say anything nice, at least keep your mouth healthy!"

Andrew Locke was caught off-guard as he watched Nora Hart splash coffee over him.

The pristine white shirt instantly changed color.

Nora Hart: ......

Andrew Locke: ......

When Nora Hart snapped back to reality, she turned to flee.

Andrew Locke quickly caught up, trapping her between his arms and the door, his voice low and restrained: "You dare splash me?"

Nora Hart's hands trembled slightly. Andrew Locke's reputation in Capital Port was not a pleasant one; rumors may be exaggerated, but it was well-known that the man would stop at nothing to reach his goals. The Myth of the Legal Arena with a touch of the underworld, he had destroyed and damaged countless people.

The lawless maverick, Andrew Locke.

He never dirtied his hands with blood, but he invariably had a hundred ways to make someone wish they were dead.

"I...have Parkinson's."

"Really? Parkinson's when splashing me, but where was it when you were touching me?"

Andrew Locke's embrace around her waist drew her close in an ambiguous posture: "Shall I remind Miss Hart about last night's events?"

"That won't be necessary."

Nora Hart couldn't bear the humiliation; pandering to a dog of a man like Andrew Locke was worse than eating shit.

It was always others who would kneel and lick her; when had she ever licked anyone else?

If he wouldn't take the case, couldn't she find a decent lawyer in Capital Port?

If not in Capital Port, surely she could find one globally.

"Mr. Locke, if you don't take it, you don't take it. We're all from the same circles. Business might fail, but courtesy remains. Please give me a quote; consider it my way of apologizing for my recklessness today."

Andrew's gaze deepened, indeed, it was very much like Nora Hart's style—to use money as a blunt weapon.

The infamous reputation of the First Lady of Capital Port wasn't empty talk.

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"Miss Hart's made up her mind?"

"With money, what good lawyer can't be hired?"

"Is that so?" Andrew's face was an enigma.

"Indeed, I'd eat shit before hiring you."

Andrew Locke's lips curled into a wicked smile that reached the corners of his eyes. The man casually pulled out a handkerchief to wipe off the coffee stains on his neck, his nonchalant manner quite maddening.

"You want me to let you leave?"

Nora Hart pouted. It was even better if no money was involved.

Just as she opened the door ready to leave, Andrew Locke's assistant was about to knock and enter but was taken aback upon seeing Nora Hart: "Mr. Locke, there's someone named Jordan Hart here to see you."

Jordan Hart?

Her scheming little brother?

Damn!

If Andrew Locke accepted Jordan's commission to fight the inheritance lawsuit, was she not doomed to lose without a doubt?

Would she and her mother be relegated to begging for rice in the future?

Jack Holt, that idiot, might throw her a couple of coins as he walked by with his wife and child.

Andrew Locke stood in front of his office closet, beginning to change out of his shirt.

"I won't see him, tell him to scram." Nora Hart blocked the assistant's path and commanded vehemently.

The assistant was taken aback, turning to Andrew and about to inquire when they caught sight of his movements—rebuttoning his shirt while turning around.

The assistant: ......Wayne DeFax? Publicly displaying lewd behavior in broad daylight?

"What's the matter?" Nora Hart's voice was fierce.

"Mr. Locke has yet to speak..." the assistant faltered.

"The boss's wife's word doesn't count?"

The assistant: .....Wayne DeFax!!!!!!

After speaking, Nora Hart slammed the door shut.

She turned around to see Andrew Locke standing in front of the closet looking at her, buttoning up his cuffs and wearing an ironic smile: "Not leaving?"