Josh and his companions had collectively decided to bury any mention of Imperial Dining Club. The humiliation from that evening still burned too fresh in their memories—they desperately wanted to pretend it never happened.
Following dinner at an upscale Italian establishment, they escorted the women to one of downtown's most prestigious shopping centers, purchasing designer handbags, jewelry, and clothing worth hundreds or even thousands of dollars per item. The extravagant spending spree managed to somewhat restore the women's enthusiasm.
As they wandered through the gleaming corridors, their group gravitated toward the luxury timepiece district. Their destination: the Richard Mille boutique.
It represented the perfect stage for redemption.
Richard Mille commanded legendary status—Formula 1 champions, A-list celebrities, technology moguls—these were timepieces that whispered of generational wealth. Simply entering the boutique made the women visibly tense, glancing around nervously as if they'd infiltrated some clandestine billionaire sanctuary.
Josh and his friends engaged the sales associate in knowledgeable conversation, casually dropping model names like "Smiley Face" and "Skull" as if they were seasoned collectors. The women's eyes widened appreciatively; their performance was succeeding brilliantly.
"Could we possibly see the Smiley Face model? Or perhaps the Black Phantom?" one woman asked hesitantly.
Josh shook his head with practiced superiority. "These pieces are extraordinarily rare," he explained condescendingly. "Retail locations don't maintain inventory. You examine the catalog, then submit pre-orders if you're genuinely serious. I have one arriving in a few months."
Whether this claim contained any truth remained questionable—but the women appeared suitably impressed.
Then the atmosphere shifted dramatically.
The distinctive click of designer heels resonated across the polished marble flooring.
Jason entered.
He was accompanied by two breathtaking women—Alice and Grace. Both possessed stunning beauty in contrasting styles: Alice radiated vivacious charm while Grace exuded statuesque elegance.
The sales associate spotted them immediately. Her polite professional smile transformed into something far warmer.
"Welcome to Richard Mille, sir."
Jason wasted no time on pleasantries. "What do you have available in current inventory? Anything that surpasses this?" He gestured toward his Patek Philippe.
"Absolutely, sir. Please allow me to escort you to our VIP lounge."
The contrast was devastatingly brutal.
Josh and his friends had spent twenty minutes attempting to project importance. Jason walked in and received private VIP treatment within sixty seconds.
The women's expressions revealed everything. Their admiration for Josh's group evaporated, replaced by quiet disappointment as they glanced back with barely concealed disdain. The entire "I have one on special order" performance suddenly felt... pathetic.
Inside the exclusive lounge, a white-gloved associate opened a secured display case and reverently presented a timepiece like it was a priceless artifact.
"This is the RM 47—also known as the Black Samurai," she explained with practiced sophistication. "Original retail price was two and a half million dollars. Current market conditions present a unique opportunity. Today's price: One point four million."
Alice and Grace both went completely silent.
Nine. Point. Four. Million. For a wristwatch.
More expensive than a Rolls-Royce Phantom. More costly than a Lamborghini Aventador. For something that occupied mere inches of wrist space.
They'd heard the old adage: "The poor buy cars, the rich buy watches," but witnessing it firsthand was revelatory.
Even Jason hesitated momentarily. The price was genuinely astronomical.
But he understood something crucial: unlike a supercar confined to garage storage, this represented a status symbol he could display in every room he entered.
Sometimes, that visibility alone justified the investment.
Jason regarded the associate with calm composure. "May I examine it personally?"
"Of course, sir. Please wear these gloves first," she replied respectfully.
After assisting Jason with fresh protective gloves, the associate handed him the Richard Mille. Jason studied its construction carefully, appreciating its substantial weight, then slid it onto his wrist. The sleek, all-black design radiated subtle yet unmistakable wealth.
Honestly, Jason still preferred his Patek Philippe's classic elegance. It possessed timeless sophistication that Richard Mille could never quite replicate.
But he already owned a Patek Philippe. What he lacked was a Richard Mille—and this model's bold, almost aggressive aesthetic definitely matched his personality.
Jason nodded decisively. "I'll take it."
The associate's eyes brightened considerably. "Would you prefer gift wrapping, sir, or will you wear it out?"
"I'll wear it. Please package the Patek Philippe," Jason said casually.
Alice and Grace exchanged stunned glances.
They'd witnessed people spend substantial amounts on automobiles—Lamborghinis, Ferraris, Rolls-Royces—but a timepiece worth more than luxury vehicles? That transcended everything they'd previously experienced.
Jason appeared completely unfazed, as if this represented typical Tuesday behavior.
[System Notification: Alice's Favorability +10][System Notification: Grace's Favorability +10]
"I'd like to pre-order several additional models," Jason informed the associate. "Contact me immediately when they arrive."
"Absolutely, sir. We'll upgrade your status to VIP Platinum immediately. You'll receive absolute priority over all waiting lists," she responded eagerly.
While processing his membership upgrade, Jason captured a quick photograph of the Richard Mille adorning his wrist and shared it with the Prestige Motors Elite group chat:
"Thanks for the recommendation. Acquired one today."
Responses arrived instantly:
"Holy shit, the RM Black Samurai?"
"Even discounted, that's still nearly One million. Absolutely savage."
"Mr. Jason operates in a completely different stratosphere."
"I felt proud of my $20k Rolex... now I feel impoverished."
When Jason emerged from the VIP lounge wearing the Richard Mille like casual jewelry, Alice and Grace practically magnetized to his arms, gazing at him with undisguised admiration.
Josh and his companions, still positioned awkwardly near the display cases, initially sneered dismissively—until one noticed the timepiece adorning Jason's wrist.
They froze simultaneously.
Their jaws nearly struck the floor.
That wasn't the same Patek Philippe from earlier.
That was a Richard Mille.
And not just any Richard Mille—the type that cost more than their condominiums.
"That's... that's impossible," Ryan whispered, his voice cracking slightly.
"The Black Samurai model," Mike breathed in disbelief. "That's like... two million dollars."
Josh felt his world tilting on its axis. Here he'd been bragging about watches he couldn't afford, while Jason casually purchased timepieces worth more than his family's houses.
The women with them weren't blind. They could see the astronomical difference between Josh's empty boasts and Jason's casual demonstration of genuine wealth.
One of them actually stepped backward, as if physically distancing herself from Josh's group.
"We should... probably go," another whispered uncomfortably.
The humiliation was complete. Not only had Josh failed to impress, but he'd been utterly overshadowed by the very person he'd been trying to compete against.
Jason, seemingly oblivious to their presence, was already discussing additional purchases with the associate while his companions admired his new acquisition.
"The craftsmanship is incredible," Alice marveled, gently touching the watch face.
"It suits you perfectly," Grace agreed. "Bold and sophisticated."
Jason smiled slightly. "Good taste recognizes good taste."
As they prepared to leave, Josh made one last desperate attempt to salvage his reputation.
"You know," he said loudly enough for everyone to hear, "some people just throw money around to compensate for other inadequacies."
Jason paused at the boutique entrance and turned back with an amused expression.
"You're absolutely right," he replied calmly. "Some people do compensate. Others simply appreciate quality."
He glanced meaningfully at Josh's obviously fake designer clothing.
"The difference is usually quite apparent."
With that final observation, Jason departed with both models on his arms, leaving Josh and his companions standing in the ruins of their pretensions.
The women who'd accompanied them were already checking their phones, clearly planning their exits.
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