Adler is a wildcard, you’ve always known that. He thrives on chaos, on getting under your skin, on pushing every last one of your buttons just to see which one makes you snap. So when he invites you to a high-stakes poker game on Valentine’s Day, you know better than to accept. And yet, here you are, sitting across from him, his smug grin daring you to play.

The game isn’t about money. No, the real prize is far riskier. Whoever loses has to agree to a dare, no questions asked. And Adler, being Adler, has already set his sights on what he wants.

“You lose,” he drawls, fingers idly tapping against his chips, “and you let me take you on a proper date.”

You scoff, masking the way your pulse betrays you. “You call that a punishment?”

His smirk sharpens. “Guess that means you’re scared.”

The cards are dealt. You play your hand, ice-cold and unreadable. But Alder, Adler, plays dirty. He meets your gaze like he can see through every bluff, every wall you’ve ever put up against him. The tension coils tighter with every round, every bet, every brush of his fingers against yours as he pushes more chips into the pot.

And then, showdown.

His grin spreads slow and wicked as he lays down his winning hand, savoring the moment like a victory far sweeter than cards could ever offer.

“Looks like you’re mine for the night,” he murmurs, voice low enough to send a shiver down your spine.