A mont later Parker, Tessa, and Atalanta stepped inside the showroom. The dimly lit hallway behind them disappeared as they entered a private, high-security chamber—luxurious as fuck but built for business. The kind of place where billionaires bought their toys without prying eyes or unnecessary interruptions.
And right there, sitting under soft, museum-style lighting, were the beasts Parker had co for.
Five cars. Three motorcycles. All customized. All carrying the unmistakable insignia of Nyxilith.
First, the two vintages.
A 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO, midnight black with crimson streaks licking the curves. The engine? Enhanced and modernized, a perfect blend of old-school sex appeal and modern performance. It wasn't just a car; it was a fucking statent.
Then, the modern monsters.
A Rolls-Royce Phantom Extended—not just any Phantom, but custom-built to the exact specifications of a kingpin. Midnight blue, chro-dipped accents, an interior straight out of a presidential suite. The seats? Custom Nyxilith-stitched with built-in cooling and massage functions.
The back had a minibar. Because why the fuck wouldn't it?
A Koenigsegg Jesko Absolut—jet black, twin-turbocharged V8 that purred like a fucking dragon. The aerodynamics? Sharpened to perfection. 0 to 60 in under 2.5 seconds. This thing didn't drive. It teleported.
Before Parker could even react, Tessa was already moving, her eyes locked onto the Bugatti like it had personally called her a bitch. The glossy, carbon-fiber beauty glead under the lights, its number plate reading:
T(N)W.
Tessa (Nyxilith) Wilder.
Her lips parted slightly, and for a second, Parker swore she almost looked soft. Then she smirked, shaking her head. Cocky. So damn cocky. She already knew this car was hers before they even walked in.
One of the attendants, a suited-up, no-nonsense type, stepped forward with a black velvet tray.
On it? The fobs. All of them.
"Welco, Mr. Black, Miss Wilder," the man said smoothly, bowing slightly. "These are now yours."
Parker took them, feeling the weight of ownership in his palm. Tessa, anwhile, wasted zero fucking ti. She grabbed her fob, clicked the unlock button, and—
The Bugatti roared to life.
The sound? A damn symphony.
She slipped inside, and Parker took a mont to appreciate the pure decadence of the interior. White leather, black stitching, a dashboard that looked like it belonged in a spaceship. The Nyxilith crest subtly embossed onto the seats.
Yeah. This was Tessa's throne.
Her fingers brushed over the wheel, and for the first ti that night, her sour mood was completely gone.
Parker smirked, leaning against the Bugatti as he watched her. "Guess I know how to fix your attitude now."
Tessa didn't even look at him. She just shifted gears and revved the engine, her smirk wide.
"Shut up I'm getting into this babe. We're going driving." Parker smirked but his eyes then landed onto soone else.
Atalanta's eyes practically sparkled the mont she saw the a 2025 Porsche Taycan Turbo GT—already a monster of a machine, but this version? Custom-tuned to push its limits while still keeping it street legal—barely.
The exterior was finished in a deep obsidian black, with subtle violet accents along the curves, making it look like midnight itself had been sculpted into a car. The wheels? Custom lightweight alloys, wrapped in high-performance tires built for both grip and speed.
Under the hood—or, well, under the floor—this thing packed over 1,000 horsepower, modified for faster acceleration and a top speed north of 200 mph. It wasn't ridiculous, but it was definitely faster than the standard model.
Parker, catching that look, smirked. "You want it?"
Atalanta snapped her head toward him, eyes wide with disbelief. "Are you being serious?"
"Why not? You want it and there's no reason why you wouldn't take it and..." he shrugged. "You're already special to from the mont we t, and you're basically part of my inner circle."
Tessa, listening from the side, smiled softly and gave Atalanta a knowing nod. That was all it took for the warrior to hesitate happily—a weird contrast, but hey, this was her life now.
[Ding! 10 Affection Points!]
Parker's smirk deepened. Tonight had been a little annoying, but it wasn't bad. Two things had set him off, sure, but seeing Atalanta's affection hit 89? That was the point of no return.
Atalanta gasped—the realization hitting her all at once. She wasn't materialistic, and she had a warrior's heart, but real affection? It did things to people. Parker had sohow slipped into her walls, into her mind, and—fuck—into her heart.
She didn't even think—just hugged him. Tight.
Parker barely had ti to react before her scent—subtle, clean, sothing faintly wild—washed over him. Her body was refined muscle, honed through battle, but soft in just the right ways. The kind of balance only a true warrior could have.
Tessa glanced at Parker, then Atalanta, and just shrugged, stepping forward to wrap her arms around both of them. Parker let out a short chuckle and hugged Atalanta back, feeling the warmth of acceptance settle in.
After a mont, he pulled back, smirking at her.
"Go check it out."
Atalanta, still flustered but so fucking happy, turned to the Porsche and opened the door. Inside, it was all about comfort and control. The seats? Hand-stitched Alcantara with Nyxilith's insignia embossed on the headrests like that sa on Tessa's Buggati. This was a special order Parker had ordered for.
The dashboard? Streamlined with a holographic HUD that displayed speed, navigation, and real-ti diagnostics without clutter.
The steering wheel had a discreet Overdrive button, giving a driver an extra burst of speed when he needed it. And because it wasn't just about flash, the windows were reinforced, not fully armored, but enough to handle trouble if it ever found her.
Atalanta slipped into the Porsche's cockpit like she fucking belonged there. The mont her hands gripped the wheel, her entire deanor shifted—she was ho. The leather hugged her like it had been waiting for her specifically, and the violet ambient glow inside gave it this sleek, futuristic edge.
Then she revved the engine.
The beast ca to life with a thunderous roar, the kind that made the walls vibrate and sent a rush of excitent through her veins. The sound alone was enough to make her lips curl in pure, unfiltered joy.
Tessa, anwhile, was already inside her Bugatti, fingers skimming the wheel before she slamd down on the gas. Another roar, deeper, aggressive as hell, filled the room. A smirk played on her lips. Perfect.
Parker, though? He was calm. While the two girls enjoyed their new toys, he walked toward the motorcycles, running a hand over them like a king inspecting his latest warhorses.
A Ducati Panigale V4 SP2—matte black, top-tier racing tech, and the kind of speed that made traffic laws a joke. Sleek, lethal. A sniper rifle on two wheels.
A BMW M 1000 RR—a machine built for power. If the Ducati was a sniper, this was a goddamn railgun, designed to obliterate straightaways.
And finally, the Kawasaki Ninja H2R—chro-dipped, predatory, a fucking demon in the form of a bike. This thing was dangerous. The type of ride you took when you wanted to break the sound barrier and make the world question physics.
He smirked.
Naomi was gonna lose her shit.
Thanks to the system, Parker already knew his maids' preferences. Elena? She was all about elegance, classy and graceful—hence, her Range Rover. Naomi? Completely different breed. Girl had a wild streak a mile long and lived for speed and adrenaline.
If she had to choose between a luxury sedan and a beastly motorcycle, she'd take the bike every damn ti.
So why not just get her a whole damn collection?
Besides, he needed one too.
The Wilders had made it happen, with a few custom tweaks and twists as he'd requested.
Now?
Everything in the room scread money. Power. Control.
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