The midday sun sparkled metallic glints from the Aston Martin's black bodywork, as if each ray were trying to reveal the truth that Adrian Foster was so keen to hide.
Inside the car, he turned the wheel with the confidence of someone who knows he's holding a treasure, although his expression was that of someone who would prefer to go unnoticed.
"Aston Martin. Over two hundred thousand dollars," he said, as if mentioning the time, without giving it much thought.
Natalie looked at him in disbelief, as if the words had been left hanging in the air.
—Two hundred thousand what?
—More than two hundred and fifty thousand, to be exact. I don't remember the exact figure, but it's around there.
"Good heavens!" Natalie's eyes widened. "That car is an unattainable dream for me, and you have the nerve to say you don't have a car, a house, or savings? You totally fooled me!"
Although she wasn't a gold digger or someone obsessed with money, she understood what that sum meant. An Aston Martin wasn't just a car: it was a status statement.
And the surprising thing was that Adrian was driving it at such a young age. Inside, Natalie couldn't help but think:"This isn't hereditary. This boy is different. There's something about him I can't quite put my finger on.".
He took a deep breath to recover.
—Sorry if I was too direct. Maybe we should forget what I said earlier and... just get on with the date. I'm all confused; you're very different from what I imagined.
Adrian raised an eyebrow.
—Do you want me to give you a ride?
"No, thank you." She forced a light smile. "Right now I need to focus on my work. If I don't put in the effort, how will I ever catch up with you capitalists, with your luxury cars and Manhattan penthouses?" she joked, waving goodbye and walking toward the corporate building across the street.
Watching her figure walk away, Adrian accelerated the car and disappeared into the traffic.
Natalie watched him walk away, her gaze fixed on the trail left by the sports car. She knew she should forget about it, repeating to herself that there were thousands of men in New York… but the truth was different: none had shaken her like he had.
On his way to his next engagement, Adrian called his mother.
"It didn't work, Mom," he confessed in a tired voice.
"I thought so," Margaret replied calmly. "Just remember, son: it's not about finding just anyone, it's about finding the right one."
Thirty minutes later, the Aston Martin stopped in the basement of a Midtown building. The elevator doors closed behind him, taking him straight to the heart of his company:
Foster Media Group.
The hallway walls were adorned with photographs of past campaigns: smiling streamers, inflated follower counts, graphics depicting successes that already felt distant. The company was surviving, yes, but barely.
At the reception, Adrian frowned.
—Sleeping on the job is deducted from your pay!
The girl behind the counter sat up with a start.
"Adrian, it's 1 p.m., time for lunch!" Lily Zheng protested, with that mischievous smile that made her seem incapable of taking life too seriously.
Adrian placed a packet of cookies in front of her.
—Lily, the company is on the verge of collapse and you're… taking a nap.
She clasped her hands in false repentance.
"I'm sorry, boss. I recognize my mistake." He immediately added, with a mischievous glint in his eye. "Give me another pack, and I promise I'll be even more sincerely sorry."
"Glutton!" he snorted, though he couldn't help but smile.
As she devoured the cookies, Lily lowered her voice as if revealing a state secret.
—Rumor has it the streamer we signed is making a loss. Quill is furious. There's talk of layoffs.
Adrián pursed his lips. The influencer business was volatile: a hit could mean millions; a miss, ruin.
Then Lily sat up with a start.
—Good morning, Manager Hou!
Adrian turned his head… and time seemed to stop.
A young woman crossed the office, impeccably dressed in a white outfit that highlighted every movement with effortless elegance. Her bag, her heels, her posture: everything about her radiated control and confidence.
Helen Hou.
Her smile was brief and polite, but her eyes shone with a sparkle that Adrian found hypnotic. Just a glance, and he already felt his heart racing.
"Who is Manager Hou?" he asked, still flustered.
"You don't know?" Lily raised an eyebrow. "Helen Hou, content manager. She's twenty-five. And although—modesty aside—she's not as beautiful as me, many in the company consider her the second most beautiful. Several guys are already hitting on her."
Adrian didn't respond. But deep down, he knew: for the first time in a long time, something real had managed to break through the walls of his armored world.
Maybe, just maybe… he had found someone capable of making him feel alive.