And now that he knew Claudia had burned down the house Grandma left to Lydia—leaving poor Lydia crying secretly every night in the hospital—Quade hated her down to his bones. Because of her leg injury, Lydia had lost a critical promotion. Naturally, Claudia had to pay the same price. But the woman was too damn hard to get at. Like a turtle, she holed herself up at home all day, never giving him the slightest opening. So when his people at the bar texted that Ms. Sawyer and Claudia Lancaster had shown up, Quade slammed the gas pedal to the floor and tore over. "What's this?" he drawled as he swaggered up to their table. "After knowing each other for so long, Ms. Sawyer, Ms. Lancaster, you won't even share a drink?" He glared at the two women, completely unmoved by their obvious disinterest. Whitney shot him a frosty smile. "Heh. I don't drink with losers." Claudia didn't even look up, just took a calm sip of her drink. "And your face isn't worth it." "Pfft—" Whitney burst out laughing. The insults cut both ways. For one, Quade was firmly in Lydia's camp, which already made him the enemy by default. For another, his reputation wasn't exactly shining. The Zimmer family's current power holder was his cousin Mandy. And while Quade was one of only two direct grandsons, years of being spoiled had left him arrogant, lazy, and sloppy. Mandy had stomped him into the ground these last couple of years—he barely had any standing left in public. His face darkened. These two women had sharp tongues, sharper than knives. Still, remembering why he came, he forced himself to swallow the rage and snapped at the bartender, "Drinks. Now."A rainbow of cocktails soon lined the table. Claudia just curled her lip. "We don't share tables." Damn it! Did he really look that desperate for company? "Claudia," Quade sneered, "that little stunt you pulled—hiring people to curse me out online—that was you, wasn't it? Drink all of these tonight, and I'll let it slide." "Whether you let it slide or not—who cares?" she said lazily. It wasn't like he'd ever left her alone before. Every time she clashed with Lydia, Quade came charging like some rabid mutt. She was used to it. "Then how about a bet," he said through clenched teeth. "If you can outdrink me, I'll back off for three months and even throw in a car. But if I win, you apologize to Lydia." “No.” "Just ten minutes of repentance." "Not playing." He scowled. "What, scared you'll lose?" Claudia gave him a bored look. "Even grade-schoolers don't fall for that line anymore." Ahhh, this woman! Unbearable! Just like Lydia said—completely impossible to deal with. Quade was so furious he started pacing, fists clenching and unclenching. Finally, he stopped and snarled, "You're drinking tonight whether you like it or not." If she didn't leave this place humiliated, she wasn't leaving at all. The tension under the pulsing music and chatter grew heavy, invisible to everyone else in the bar. "Hey! You're here too?" a few rich brats called out, spotting Quade. "Come on, let's hit the event room for a drink!" They flocked over, eager to please. Their families had money—though not the kind that came with real power. Even if Mandy ruled the Zimmer family, out in public Quade was still a Zimmer heir. There was never a shortage of bootlickers around him. Quade smirked, eyes glinting. "Entertaining some beauties here," he said lazily. "But they're a little cold. Tell you what—anyone who can get them to drink a glass tonight, I'll give a hundred grand. No limit. No rules." His eyes locked on Claudia as he said it. Since she refused to play nice, he'd make her regret it the hard way. These spoiled rich kids wouldn't be nearly as polite as he was. The newcomers' eyes lit up. A hundred grand a glass? With that many drinks on the table, it was like dangling meat in front of starving wolves. Their gazes dragged over Claudia and Whitney. Truth be told, in all their time hanging around clubs, they'd rarely seen women this stunning. No wonder Mr. Zimmer was obsessed. Young and reckless, they all knew what this meant. One of them, a guy with narrow, foxlike eyes, stepped forward first. "You ladies don't get it. When Mr. Zimmer offers you a drink, it's for your own good." He reached for Whitney's shoulder, trying to pin her in place. Before he could touch her, a hard leather clutch whipped across his face with a crack. "Get lost!" Whitney snapped. "You mangy mutt—who the hell gave you permission to touch me?" At the same time, Claudia flicked her wrist and flung her drink straight into the eyes of another man leering at her. Alcohol and tears mixed as he howled in pain. The crowd went still. Humiliated in public, the two men froze under the women's cold, cutting stares—stares that promised if they took one more step, they wouldn't walk away so easily. The first attempt failed. The rest hesitated, glancing between Quade and the two women. Anyone who dared stand up to a Zimmer like this… could they really be people they couldn't afford to mess with? Whitney smirked. "Quade, seriously? Cheap tricks like this against women? No wonder the Zimmer family head doesn't respect you." "Two hundred grand," Quade said darkly, voice dropping as he doubled the price. The crowd still faltered. Finally, one of them, the cautious type, swallowed and asked, "Mr. Zimmer… do you actually know these two?"