Winning My Ex-Crush

Laird’s POV

I waited in front of the temporary detainee waiting room. After completing several document verification processes and paying the bail, I was able to take Alan home. If only I hadn’t promised Fenella to meet her at Alan’s house, I would have just left him to take a taxi home.

After waiting for about fifteen minutes, he finally emerged from the door, accompanied by two police officers. Alan might have thanked or said some nonsense to the two officers. I patiently waited for him to finish chatting.

“Here’s my best lawyer, Mr. Evans.” Alan stretched out his arms sideways with a broad smile.

Was he going to hug me? I snorted as he walked closer and actually attempted to hug me. I stared sharply with an expressionless face, not interested in his feigned familiarity.

“You don’t like hugs?” he asked, his hands still raised in the air.

“There is no need for hugs. Come on, let’s go to your house,” I said, nodding my head towards the exit.

“Ah, you’re the type who’s a bit hard to get along with,” he said with a shrug.

I remained silent, ignoring Alan, and chose to continue walking out of the courthouse. Alan initially continued to analyze my personality like a psychologist, but I ignored him. Eventually, he grew bored with himself and fell silent.

When we reached the parking area, Alan immediately voiced his protest, which I could no longer ignore.

“Wait a minute! Where’s Mike? Where are Jessy and Fenella? They promised to pick me up.” Alan frowned, looking around.

I continued to ignore him, and I unlocked my car. Not a red Ferrari, but a regular silver sedan similar to a dozen other cars in the parking lot.

“Are they planning a surprise now? Come on, guys, I’m here. Throw confetti and open champagne now.” Alan spoke loudly to himself but received no response.

I got into the car, started the engine, and rolled down the window on the passenger side. I just smiled awkwardly and let the crazy man drown in his hallucination that there would be many people waiting for him to come out of the cell.

“Hey, Mr. Schmidt! Are you getting in or not?” I asked, leaning my head out of the window.

“Where are they?” Alan asked, confused.

“They’ve gone home because many reporters were wanting to cover your case,” I replied loudly.

“Then where are the reporters?”

Seriously? Again, I could only furrow my brows with my mouth agape. It seemed this man was indeed attention-seeking.

Not wanting to engage further, I shook my head and closed the car window. I slowly moved out of the parking lot, nearly brushing against Alan. Fortunately, he was quick enough to dodge my car.

I moved slowly, and when it seemed like I wouldn’t stop, Alan finally shouted at me and chased after me. He pounded on the door, and I finally hit the brakes, unlocked the door, and let him in.

“Are you crazy for leaving me alone there? What if there were reporters who saw and reported that I was abandoned by my own lawyer?” Alan demanded angrily.

“I thought you didn’t want to come with me.” I shrugged and began driving towards Alan’s house.

“Assumptions will only ruin communication. Yet communication is essential to maintaining relationships,” Alan said, lifting his chin.

“What relationship?” I asked lazily.

“Any relationship. In our case, it’s a long-term relationship between a client and his lawyer,” Alan said confidently.

“I think our relationship can’t be categorized as long-term. I’ll quit right after you’re sentenced by the judge next month,” I said quickly.

“Why? Haven’t we been working quite well together?” Alan asked, puzzled.

Oh, fuck. This man was truly delusional. From the beginning, we’ve always argued, and I’ve clearly shown my dislike for him.

“I just want to save my mental health,” I replied, shrugging.

“Besides, I only got my lawyer’s license six months ago. If you want someone more experienced to handle Gene’s office and all the models in it, I can introduce you to my colleague at a firm specializing in civil law.”

“Oh, nonsense! You already have my trust and Fenella’s. I’m sure you’re capable,” Alan insisted, swinging his hands in the air.

“Tell me, how much is your monthly salary? I’ll give you the equivalent,” Alan pushed.

I shook my head with a wry smile. My mind was only wondering about the origins of Alan’s excessive self-confidence.

“How much? $10, 000? $15, 000?” Alan guessed.

“Stop it. Whatever you pay, I won’t become Gene’s lawyer,” I said firmly.

“What if you just became my personal assistant? I need someone who can drive me, manage documents for me, and answer my calls,” he grinned widely this time.

At this point, I realized he was just trying to belittle me. Perhaps he wanted to find out the value of my monthly salary to compare it with his. Now, he had clearly underestimated me by offering me a position as his personal assistant.

I sighed and remained patient, not to be easily provoked by his bad joke.

“As I said, I’m inexperienced, especially as a personal assistant. You should find someone else who is more skilled in that field,” I calmly responded.

“Isn’t that unfair? Mike said you were willing to be Fenella’s personal lawyer.” Alan raised an eyebrow.

“Mike?” I was surprised to hear that.

“Yes. Mike told me that. Is it true?” Alan insisted.

Damn. How did he know? Then my mind immediately accused the only other person who knew about it besides Fenella. Especially if that person had a habit of leaking secrets with his big mouth.

“That was a special case,” I said, clearing my throat shortly.

“Oh, don’t tell me you two have made up because of this case.” Alan dug for more information.

I didn’t answer at all, but it seemed he immediately drew conclusions from my silent attitude towards him.

“Good then. You two do get along.”

Even though he said words of praise, his tone was flat. Not like his usual high-toned speech with added arrogance in every word.All content © N/.ôvel/Dr/ama.Org.

Okay, he didn’t like me, and I didn’t like him. Even so, I didn’t think I needed to pay too much attention to his opinion, and I was sure Fenella wouldn’t hold him in high regard either.

“Turns out I’m a cupid, while I’ve run out of arrows for myself. The world is indeed unfair,” he said, this time with a melancholic tone.

“Ah, this is Fenella’s favorite song,” he said.

He then turned up the radio volume button to fill the silence in the car. Alan hummed softly, singing the lyrics of a male singer that sounded smooth to my ears. I didn’t know the singer or the song, so I just stayed silent, letting Alan drown in his own silence.

Finally, some peace.