Ethan leaned back against the plush leather booth, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Zack, you do realize she was two seconds away from murdering you, right? That whole interaction was her actively holding back rage, not flirting."
"Hey, some women like to hate you first before they fall for you," Zack wiggled his eyebrows, clearly enjoying himself.
Ethan snorted. "Yeah? Keep thinking that. See where it gets you."
Zack leaned back, arms stretched across the booth. "Look, all I’m saying is — if a woman that hot is pissed at me, that means she remembers me. That’s gotta count for something."
Ethan just shook his head. "Or it means she’s plotting your demise as we speak."
"Potato, potahto," Zack waved dismissively.
Ethan exhaled, finally pulling his System phone from his pocket, his eyes scanning the screen.
He had received a notification, but before he could even read it, Zack interrupted again.
"You know," Zack said, his voice suddenly more serious, "if you really wanted to impress someone like Vanessa, it wouldn’t just be about money."
Ethan raised an eyebrow, finally giving Zack his full attention. "Go on."
"Think about it," Zack gestured toward the club entrance, as if Vanessa were still there. "She’s not the kind of woman you can just buy out with some flashy dinner or expensive jewelry. She’s used to that. You want someone like her to actually notice you?"
Ethan shrugged. "And what? You have the secret formula to winning over a woman like that?"
Zack smirked. "Not a formula. A car."
Ethan narrowed his eyes slightly. "A car?"
"Not just any car," Zack grinned, tapping the table. "Something that actually stands toe-to-toe with hers. You saw what she drove, right?"
Ethan nodded. "Lamborghini Huracán."
"Exactly," Zack pointed at him. "And not just any Huracán. That was a custom build. I could see the mods from here. She’s a racer, Ethan — meaning the only thing that’ll make her look at you twice is something worth racing against."
Ethan thought about it for a moment. He had never really been into flashy sports cars — bikes were his thing, and when it came to business, he preferred subtle luxury over screaming wealth.
But Zack had a point.
Someone like Vanessa Carter wasn’t impressed by money alone. She lived for speed, for competition.
"Alright," Ethan finally said. "Say I am interested in getting a car that would impress someone like her. What do you suggest?"
Zack’s eyes lit up. "Oh, now we’re talking. You, my friend, need something fast, aggressive, and just rare enough that it actually turns heads."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Like?"
Zack leaned forward. "McLaren P1. Ferrari LaFerrari. Koenigsegg Jesko. Hell, even a Bugatti Chiron would do the trick. Anything that says, ’I belong on a racetrack just as much as you do.’"
Ethan hummed in thought. "And where exactly do you expect me to find one of those?"
Zack grinned. "Lucky for you, I know a guy."
Ethan gave him a skeptical look. "Of course, you do."
"Come on, man," Zack laughed. "Let’s go car shopping."
Ethan chuckled, shaking his head as he leaned back. "Fine. But if I drop another few million, you better be right about this."
Zack smirked. "Trust me. You get a car like that? Vanessa Carter won’t just remember you — she’ll wanna race you."
And for some reason, that thought intrigued Ethan far more than it should have.
Ethan followed Zack out of the club, still amused by his friend’s antics.
The late afternoon sun bathed the city in a golden glow, casting long shadows across the pavement as they approached Zack’s car.
"Alright, man," Zack said, rubbing his hands together. "We’re about to find you the ride of your dreams."
Ethan scoffed, swinging his leg over his bike and pulling on his helmet. "I don’t dream about cars, Zack."
Zack dramatically clutched his chest. "Blasphemy. What kind of man doesn’t dream about cars?"
Ethan chuckled, revving his engine. "One who prefers bikes."
Zack rolled his eyes but grinned. "Fine, fine. But trust me, once you see what we’re working with, you’re gonna be drooling."
Ethan just shook his head, but he followed Zack as they sped off toward the dealership.
The place Zack had taken them to wasn’t just any dealership — it was high-end.
The kind where luxury cars sat on spotless showroom floors, polished to a mirror shine. Ethan glanced around, taking in the sleek Lamborghinis, Ferraris, and McLarens.
Each one looked like a beast waiting to be unleashed.
A salesman in a crisp suit approached them, offering a rehearsed smile. "Gentlemen, welcome. Looking for something special today?"
Zack clapped a hand on Ethan’s shoulder. "My man here needs something fast, impressive, but not ridiculous in price. Think under two million."
Ethan gave Zack a flat look. "You realize how insane that still sounds, right?"
"Hey, we’re not here to buy a Honda," Zack shot back. "We need power."
The salesman nodded, immediately shifting gears. "Of course, I have just the selection for you. Right this way."
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They were led past the ultra-elite models — the ones that bordered on art pieces rather than actual vehicles. Ethan barely spared them a glance.
He wasn’t looking for a collector’s item, just something that could keep up. The salesman stopped near a row of cars with sleek, aggressive builds.
"Now," the salesman gestured, "if you’re looking for something exhilarating but not excessive, I’d recommend these."
Ethan eyed the cars, immediately drawn to a McLaren 720S. It had a streamlined design, its deep metallic blue paint reflecting the overhead lights like liquid sapphire.
"Now this," the salesman continued, noticing Ethan’s interest, "is a McLaren 720S, one of the finest supercars in its class. 710 horsepower, 0 to 60 in under 2.9 seconds, and an incredible aerodynamics package. It’s a favorite among professional racers and enthusiasts alike."
Ethan ran his hand along the car’s frame, feeling the smooth finish. "And the price?"
The salesman smiled. "A little over 300,000 dollars. Quite reasonable for its performance."
Ethan hummed in thought. The price wasn’t an issue — this was far below his actual budget. But did it have the presence he needed?
Zack clapped. "Damn, I like it. But let’s keep looking — no harm in seeing all the options."
Ethan nodded, stepping back as they moved further down the row.
They stopped in front of a Ferrari F8 Tributo next. Sleek, aggressive, and undeniably Ferrari, it had a presence that commanded attention.
"This is the Ferrari F8 Tributo," the salesman continued. "A V8 twin-turbocharged engine, 710 horsepower, and an absolutely jaw-dropping design. One of the fastest in its class."
Ethan had to admit — it looked good. The scarlet red body and the signature Ferrari prancing horse emblem exuded prestige.
"And the cost?" he asked.
"Roughly 275,000 dollars," the salesman said smoothly.