Chapter 39
Charlotte stepped out of the school gates, following Adonis’s directions to the parking garage nearby.
Tucked away in the most hidden corner was a brand new, fire-engine red Ecosse ES1 Spirit. It was a heavyweight beast, famous for being one of the top ten priciest motorcycles in the world. The price was jaw-dropping, well over three million dollars. Built with F1 racing technology and materials, it could hit 236 miles per hour. Even seasoned racers found it hard to handle. For women, the number who could master it was close to zero.
Charlotte grinned, clearly satisfied. She slipped on her helmet, swung her leg over the bike, and leaned forward just a little. The engine roared to life, echoing through the garage. In a blink, she shot out, leaving behind only the flash of that red bodywork and a glimpse of long, slender legs. Heads turned. That was straight-up cool.
The bike hit the highway, picking up speed as she weaved through traffic. Soon she reached the city center, slowing only when she hit a red light. She balanced the bike easily, one long leg resting on the pavement. She flipped up her visor, dug a carton of milk from her bag, and bit down on the straw, taking a casual sip.
Right then, a dark Bugatti rolled up beside her. In the back, a man in a perfectly pressed suit leaned against the headrest, his sharp features softened by a laid- back, almost lazy vibe. Everything about him radiated quiet power and icy elegance.
“Anthony, I think that’s Ms. Main,” Hans said from the front.
The man’s eyes opened, sharp and clear, and he glanced out the window. There was Charlotte, owning that powerful bike without breaking a sweat. One hand on the handlebars, pale wrist exposed. The other held her milk, lips wrapped around the straw, eyes drifting as if she didn’t have a care in the world. A breeze teased out soft, black hair from under her helmet, adding to the effortlessly cool energy she gave off.
“Wasn’t Ms. Main raised in the countryside? How does she even know how to ride something like that?” Hans couldn’t help but mutter. He knew the ES1 Spirit. Even pros had trouble with it, and Charlotte looked as delicate as they came.
Anthony studied her face, a faint, amused smile tugging at his lips. She never failed to surprise him.
He lowered the window, just about to call her name, but the light flipped green. Charlotte tucked her legs back up, gunned the engine, and shot off with a burst of confidence.
“Keep up with her,” Anthony said quietly.
“Yes, Anthony,” Hans replied, stepping on the gas.
They tried. For two blocks, they kept her in sight, but she was gone before they
knew it. Hans was left blinking, half embarrassed, half impressed.
“She’s too fast, Anthony. I couldn’t catch up. He’d tried to match her speed, but she just kept going, reckless and wild. Hans liked his life too much to chase her any harder.
Anthony’s eyes narrowed in mild exasperation, but he just smiled and said, “Let’s head back to The Blair Estate.” He knew where she lived, after all. It wasn’t like someone. could just whisk her away
Fifteen minutes later, Charlotte pulled up in front of a quiet laboratory. She swung off
the bike, tossing her helmet to the security guard by the door.
“Ms. Main, you’re here. Eric’s waiting for you inside.”
“Thanks.” Charlotte slung her bag over her shoulder and walked in.
“Sweetheart, you made it!” An elderly man with snowy hair, wearing an apron and
still clutching a spatula, hurried out to greet her.
“It’s been ages. Let me have a good look at you.” Mr. Lane grabbed her hands,
giving her a once-over like he was checking for missing pieces.
“You’ve lost weight,” he said, frowning. His gaze flicked toward the door, and his voice rose in- irritation. Was it that useless father of yours? Has he been giving you a hard time again?”