HIS FIRST LADY(SANDRO MARCOS)

Chapter 31: I'll Grant You a Wish

Nerves buzzing, I wait for Vincent to clarify the stakes of his proposed competition. This side of him is new to me—a small edge that rarely surfaces. He must be somewhat cutthroat to have succeeded with his news network.

"If you win," Vincent says, "I'll grant you a wish."

"A wish?" That's unexpected. With his wealth and influence as the heir to the Harbinger News Network, there's little he couldn't do. Still, I need to clarify. "What kind of wish?"

"Anything within my power," he replies. "Whatever your heart desires."

I pause. Is Vincent flirting with me? This is a bit suggestive. I'm still married, and my feelings for Sandro are a tangled mess.

Crushing on Vincent would make more sense. He's closer to my age, which is a major plus.

"And if you win?" I ask.

His smile widens. "That's a secret."

Oh, this man is trouble. Maybe not Sandro-level trouble, but still the kind of guy you need to watch out for. His mind seems always to be working, with a thousand plans in motion at any given moment. It's a little thrilling.

Even if it makes me miss Sandro. Ugh! I need to stop thinking about him.

"A secret, huh?"

"Nothing untoward, I assure you," Vincent says. "Though this is a matter of trust..."

We've just met, and I shouldn't really trust him, but I'm in a good mood after my hole-in-one and open to a new crush. Why not take a chance?

"Very well," I say. "I accept the terms."

"Good," Vincent says.

The flirting continues, albeit in a competitive way. Vincent and I, both confident, occasionally clash in a playful manner.

"Watch me on this next swing," Vincent says. After his shot, he teases, "Did you learn anything?"

I can hold my own, though. After chipping a ball out of the bunker and straight into the hole, I ask him, "Did it go in? It went in, right?" Even though I'm quite sure it did.

Hugo gives me a withering look, but it's softened by his smile.

For the rest of the course, we're neck and neck. The other pair playing with us have stopped tracking their own scores and are focused on ours instead. It seems Hugo has fulfilled Senator Grace's wish. Her two sons, who are now getting along, have bet on us and are watching with rapt attention. At least they're not arguing—yet. I imagine that will start once a winner is decided.

Our scores are so close that the contest comes down to the final hole, and even then, it hinges on our last putts. We're both within putting distance, but my ball is slightly farther from the hole than Vincent.

While I'm not strong with the short game, I've spent plenty of time on the mini-golf course with my daughters. There may be no windmills or hungry hippos here, but I can transfer those skills to this course.

"Double or nothing!" shouts one of the Grace brothers. The other agrees.

Vincent shushes them. "Don't distract her."

"It's fine," I say. Honestly, with two pre-teens at home and constant drama at work, I'm more comfortable in chaos than in silence.

I line up my putt, gauging the distance and the slope of the green. I adjust and gently tap the ball.

The ball curves as expected but straightens once it hits an incline. It slows more than I anticipated as it nears the hole. I hold my breath—did I not hit it hard enough?

But then, thankfully, it drops into the hole.

I exhale in a harsh, breathy laugh. Maybe I should play the lottery with this kind of luck!

My luck might not hold, though. Vincent still has to take his shot. If he makes his putt, we'll need a tiebreaker.

Everything hinges on Vincent's last stroke.

"That was a very good putt," Vincent tells me as he lines up his own shot. "But watch this—a master at work."

I laugh a little and step aside to watch. Vincent is a skilled player and full of confidence. He has every chance of making this shot.

He examines the hole and his ball several times before he pulls back and puts.

The ball rolls forward but loses speed too quickly, coming to a stop a good three inches from the hole.

It doesn't go in, which means I win.

I gasp in surprise.

Vincent sighs. "Well..."

I want to tease him about how a master at work can miss so many putts, but since it's the end of the game, I don't want to be a sore winner.

One of the Grace brothers cheers, while the other buries his head in his hands.

"Vincent! What the hell, man?"

"Great job, Mrs. Samson!"

Vincent and I look at them and then laugh. He picks up my ball from the cup and hands it to me.

"Congratulations, Rafha," he says, placing my ball in my hand.

"I had fun," I tell him. "I wouldn't mind doing this again sometime."

Vincent smiles. "The thought of seeing you again takes the sting out of my loss. I don't suppose that's your wish?"

I shake my head. "More of a hopeful suggestion."

"Ah." Mirth dances in his eyes. "Well, let's hear it. What is your wish?"

I consider my options. Vincent has said I can ask for anything within his power. He's wealthy and influential, so I could ask for money or something material. However, what I need most is access to more influential people. If I can build a stronger network, it will help me in my custody battle and divorce proceedings.

Given that, there's really only one thing I can ask for. I hope he'll grant it.

"I have one idea," I say hesitantly, nervous about making an unconventional request.

"Let's hear it," Hugo says, curious.

I take a deep breath, look him in the eye, and say, "I'd like a job."