Ethan pulled the Porsche to a smooth stop in front of Zack's club, the sleek vehicle gleaming under the afternoon sun.
The faint thrum of music could already be heard from inside, even though it was still early.
A few custors were trickling in — mostly regulars looking for a head start on the night. Zack unbuckled his seatbelt and stretched, letting out a satisfied sigh.
"You know," Zack said, shooting Ethan a sly grin, "I might just drop by your place one of these days. Gotta make sure you're not turning into so soulless corporate robot with nothing but work and bikes in your life."
Ethan smirked. "What, worried I don't have a proper wine cellar for you to raid?"
"Not just wine," Zack said dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if he were personally offended.
"Whiskey, vodka, tequila — hell, even a well-stocked bar cart would be nice. What's the point of a mansion if you don't have house service and a bartender on standby?"
Ethan chuckled, resting his hands on the steering wheel. "You just want an excuse to lounge around in my place and drink my alcohol."
Zack grinned unapologetically. "Busted."
Ethan shook his head. "You can co check it out, but don't expect a harem of maids in bunny outfits serving you drinks. It's just , my work, and my garage."
Zack let out an exaggerated sigh. "What a waste of pri real estate."
Ethan waved him off. "Go do your thing. I'll catch you later."
Zack smirked, giving him a playful salute before stepping out and watching the Porsche smoothly pull away.
As soon as his friend disappeared down the street, Zack rolled his shoulders and made his way inside the club.
The atmosphere inside was still relaxed, the deep red lights giving the space a warm, intimate glow.
A few regulars were already sipping on their drinks, chatting quietly while the bartenders prepared for the evening rush.
Zack nodded at a few of them as he walked through, exchanging casual greetings before slipping into his office.
He shut the door behind him and imdiately reached for his phone, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He scrolled through his contacts and pressed the call button.
The line barely rang twice before a smooth, amused voice answered.
"Well, well," Vanessa said, the hint of a smirk in her tone. "You must be desperate to be calling so soon."
Zack leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the desk. "Desperate? Nah. Just feeling generous. I figured I'd give you a chance to redeem yourself."
Vanessa scoffed. "Redeem myself? Please. If I rember correctly, you were the one eating my dust the last ti we raced."
Zack chuckled, tapping his fingers against the desk. "True. But this ti, I've got a secret weapon."
There was a pause. "Oh? Do tell."
Zack grinned. "Ethan."
A silence stretched between them before Vanessa let out a disbelieving laugh. "Wait, who's Ethan? you an that guy? The one I literally bumped into earlier?"
"Yep," Zack confird, stretching lazily. "That's the one."
Vanessa let out a long sigh. "Zack, be serious. What makes you think so random guy can go head-to-head with ?"
"He's not just so random guy," Zack said, his tone confident. "He's a bike guy."
Vanessa snorted. "And? Last I checked, I race cars, not motorcycles. Do you think handling a car at 200 mph is the sa as leaning into a turn on a bike?"
Zack's grin widened. "You'd be surprised. If he drives the way he rides, you might actually have so competition for once."
Vanessa was quiet for a mont. Then she sighed. "You really expect to take this seriously?"
"All I'm saying is, co see for yourself," Zack said, knowing full well she wouldn't be able to resist the challenge. "You can make all the judgnts you want after you watch him in action."
Vanessa clicked her tongue, clearly considering. Then, with an exasperated sigh, she said, "Fine. I'll bite. Where and when?"
Zack smirked. "Swing by my office. We'll talk."
She scoffed. "This better not be a waste of my ti, Zack."
"It won't be," Zack assured her smoothly. "Oh, and bring that ego of yours. You might need it when Ethan blows past you."
Vanessa laughed, a sharp, confident sound. "You're getting ahead of yourself. But fine, I'll play along. I'll be there in a bit."
The call ended, and Zack grinned as he tossed his phone onto the desk.
'He should treat to so beer for this matchmaking,'
#####
The heavy bass of the music pulsed through the club as Vanessa stepped inside, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd.
She was used to places like this — dimly lit, filled with people who thought they were important, all trying to prove sothing. She had no patience for it.
With an air of confidence, she strode through the mass of bodies, effortlessly maneuvering past drunken dancers and groups of n who eyed her a little too long.
She wasn't here to party.
Dressed in a fitted black leather jacket, cropped just above her waist, Vanessa exuded an effortless cool. Underneath, a deep red top clung to her form, complenting her toned physique.
Paired with high-waisted jeans that hugged her hips and sleek black boots that clicked against the floor, she looked every bit the racer she was — untouchable, fearless, and always ready to take the wheel.
As she walked, a few heads turned. So recognized her, murmuring her na, but she ignored them. She wasn't here for attention.
She was here for Zack.
The flashing neon lights cast sharp shadows on her face, accentuating the sly smirk tugging at her lips.
Her dark hair was tied up in a high ponytail, a few loose strands framing her face, and her makeup was minimal — just enough to highlight her sharp cheekbones and piercing eyes.
She carried herself like she owned the place, like she was above it all. Because in her mind, she was.
Reaching the VIP section, she spotted Zack lounging on one of the leather couches, a whiskey glass in hand, grinning like he'd just won a bet he hadn't placed yet.
"Vanessa," Zack greeted smoothly, raising his glass in a half-toast. "Right on ti."
Reviews
All reviews (0)