Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 75195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75195 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
It was strange but therapeutic. He had always been my go-to person when life threw its curveballs, and even in death, he seemed to be there for me.
I could almost hear his voice, feel his laughter at my adventures in love. In my mind’s eye, I pictured him grinning, making fun of me for my naivete, or encouraging me with his infectious enthusiasm.
Thanks, Dylan. I love and miss you.
Soon we were leaving Caviar Lime Highway.
The landscape began to morph into an area that oozed opulence and sophistication.
Driving by high-end hotels, I couldn’t help but be entranced by the dazzling display of affluence. The hotels stood like grand palaces. The glittering façades were adorned with intricate designs, and the lobbies visible through the wide glass entrances were a study in exquisite taste.
The Michelin starred restaurants, nestled between the towering hotels, were no less impressive. Even from the car, I could sense the culinary artistry that lay within.
One day I will be able to afford rent in the West.
This was the part of town, where the rich and famous mingled.
Minutes later, Charles expertly rounded the car onto the side of a huge building. This wasn’t just any structure, but a monolith of contemporary architecture—glass and steel—that reached toward the sky.
Wow.
The building’s enormity was not just in its physical size but in its presence. It demanded attention and exuded an air of power and prestige.
Definitely, says Tristan.
Charles brought the car to a smooth halt at the entrance, where uniformed attendants awaited our arrival, their faces reflecting a disciplined calm.
This is nice.
I thought he would be entering a parking garage or even putting me out in front. Instead, Charles eased us into the entrance of a massive metal box.
Two men in black uniforms hurried over and began to direct him to some odd platform.
What is this?
I leaned forward to get a better look.
So. . .this is his parking spot? It looks like a big storage unit.
Charles carefully guided the car onto the platform within the massive box, following the directions of the attendants who were giving him precise hand signals.
When the car went fully inside the box, Charles shifted into park and turned off the car’s ignition.
O-kay.
Next, metal sliding sounded behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder. Steel doors appeared and closed, encasing us within the dimly lit space.
O-kay. . .What’s going on?
The subtle vibration of the platform beneath me told me that we were moving. In fact. . .we were rising—the metal box, the car, Charles, and me.
Hold on. Is this a car elevator? Is that a thing?
Completely shocked, I marveled at the silence and smoothness of the car elevator’s operation. It whisked us upward with an almost imperceptible hum, making it feel as if we were floating rather than ascending.
Time seemed to blur and lose meaning.
I couldn’t tell how long we were in there, cocooned in that luxurious capsule.
Then, the vibration stopped.
The elevator reached its destination.
My nerves flared.
I could sense that we were about to be unveiled to a whole new world. My heart raced. I found myself holding my breath as the heavy steel doors began to part. As they slowly opened, a flood of light spilled into the elevator, illuminating our surroundings.
Charles turned on the car and slowly backed us into a large garage with six other expensive cars inside it.
Oh. My. God.
The space was a millionaire’s private showroom, displaying an enviable collection of high-performance luxury vehicles.
Is this. . .Tristan’s garage?
The pristine garage floor gleamed under the soft, strategically placed overhead lights, reflecting the sleek, gleaming exteriors of the cars.
Each vehicle was meticulously maintained. Their paint jobs were flawless and their chrome accents polished to perfection.
Maybe, I should give up my studies and figure out this art thing.
I didn’t mean to, but I began assessing the choice of cars and placement, wondering what that could say about Tristan.
To one side of the garage, a gleaming red Ferrari exuded power and elegance. It told me that like most men, Tristan loved speed. Yet, the color red pointed to his hunt for desire.
No shocker there.
Adjacent to the Ferrari, a classic black Rolls-Royce Phantom stood.
Alright. Tristan likes timeless luxury and exquisite craftsmanship.
His decision to get the car in black possibly represented his darker side.
He does naughty things when he drives this car. I would bet a lot of money on that.
I scanned the other cars—a stunning midnight-blue Aston Martin, a sleek, silver Porsche, and a white Bentley similar to the one I was presently in.
Do you really need two Bentleys? I guess so if you’re Tristan.
When my gaze landed on the eye-catching canary-yellow Lamborghini, I saw Tristan leaning on the car’s hood.
Holy fuck.
Shirtless and barefoot, he leaned against the car, an embodiment of raw masculinity. The sleek contours of the Lamborghini paled in comparison to the sculpted lines of his torso.
Mmmhmm.
Black jeans hugged the thick muscles of his thighs.