Chapter - 13
Ethan stepped into the underground parking garage. The smell of hot rubber and exhaust hit him immediately. Hot air, dim lights that threw long, weird shadows.
Ethan walked towards Area D, which was usually reserved for the executives or the expensive cars.
With his hands in pockets, wearing a navy security uniform that clearly wasn't tailored for him. The shirt fit, but the cap looked like it was trying to run away from his head.
He didn't give a single damn about appearances. Because honestly? He didn't. He was a millionaire with more than $10,000,000 in his bank account.
He walked like he could buy any luxury car parked in there. Because he could, even if not now, very soon.
Halfway through the rows of luxury cars, he spotted her.
Jasmine Clinton.
Corporate royalty? The Ice-Cold beauty? Naah… Right now she was a very pissed-off princess.
She stood beside her Maserati MC20, navy blue, sleek, gorgeous — about $247,500 worth of power and class. But the poor Maserati wasn't getting admired right now. She was getting the look a girl would get who just broke her mother's favourite vase.
Jasmine tapped her heel, checked her watch, muttered curses, tapped again.
"Unbelievable," she hissed and kicked the front tire, in frustration.
"Where the hell is security? Should I go and drag them here by the ear?"
Ethan leaned against a concrete pillar and watched with mild entertainment. Despite the fact that she fired him unreasonably, Ethan can't deny the fact that she was unbelievably gorgeous, even when she was angry.
On top of that, it was thanks to her that he got the System. He is yet to believe it a 100 percent, but it was there.
"Need a hand, President Clinton?" Ethan spoke, clearing his throat and a sweet smile on his face.
Hearing the voice, she spun around, ready to bite someone's head off, but then her eyes went wide.
"You?" she snapped. "Why are you wearing a security uniform? Didn't I ask you to leave?"
Ethan shrugged, "Yeah. Well you played the Hire-Fire game with Ethan, the PR job candidate."
"This…" he pointed at the badge on his chest "This is Ethan the Security Department guy. Your HR delivers faster than Amazon Prime."
She just stared at him.
"That's insane," she muttered, "But what are you doing here?"
"Do you have amnesia or something, princess?" Ethan raised an eyebrow, "Didn't you call the security because her highness's royal chariot won't budge?"
"No one wanted to help you. So I am here."
Jasmine blinked. He looked annoyingly unbothered. Unlike most people she fired, who either cried, apologized, or cursed her, this guy was so nonchalant.
There was no desperation in his eyes and even his character had changed so much. It was like he was doing her a favour by working for her.
"My car won't start," she finally said, deciding to ignore the employment chaos for now. "I have got a meeting with the Bureau Chief in twenty minutes. If I am late, the merger gets delayed. Fix it."
"I am a guard, not a mechanic," Ethan replied, still leaning against a pillar..
"Can you at least look?" Jasmine frowned, crossing her arms.
"If I had to guess, it's either the battery… or the car just gave up out of pure disappointment."
"Excuse me?"
"Oh nothing, just talking to myself." Ethan grinned looking at her.
She glared, but Ethan ignored her gaze. He dramatically sniffed the car.
"Battery issue. Happens to the best of Italian engineering."
Her eyes narrowed. "Are you mocking my car?"
"Me? Noooo," he drawled. "I only mock people."
She narrowed her eyes, but he only grinned at her in response.
"Can you fix it?"
"Lady, I am your security guard, not the pit crew from F1."
"Then do something!" she snapped.
Ethan leaned in and tapped the hood. "Maybe the car finally got tired of dealing with your attitude."
Her eyes sharpened. "Say that one more time, and I will show you my attitude."
"Nope. I like living."
"But you know," he continued, rubbing his chin, "Calling a tow truck will take forever. Your premium uber will only arrive by the time your meeting is over."
"If you are desperate, I can give you a ride."
Hearing him, Jasmine instinctively scoffed, "A ride? On what? Your bicycle? Old, rusty Honda?"
"Funny you say that. I actually…"
Before Ethan could brag about his new car, the loud sound of an engine roaring came from around the corner of the parking lot.
And just then a Ferrari SF90 Spider, bright lime-green rolled towards them. Equipped with a 4.0L, twin-turbocharged V8 engine producing close to a 1000 horsepower, the beast was valued at about $625,000.
The car made a slow and dramatic stop near Jasmine's Maserati.
The doors opened and the driver stepped out. He was a young, cocky looking guy with fake charm leaking out of him like bad cologne. Designer clothes, expensive haircuts, and an expensive looking shinny watch. The man had everything that shouted money.
It was Justin Miller, the son of one of the company directors. A known playboy and Jasmine's persistent, unwanted suitor.
Ethan sighed internally.
'You couldn't wait a little longer buddy? I was about to drop the bomb on her.'
"Jasmine!" Justin shouted like he was starring in a music video. "Sweetheart!"
She closed her eyes.
Kill me now.
Justin strolled over, chest puffed, wearing a grin that made Ethan want to break something.
"I heard your car broke down," he said dramatically, "But don't you dare worry, my little sweetheart!"
"As the fate would bless you. I am here."
"I can take you wherever you want."
"I just bought this Ferrari today. Hybrid. Twin-turbo. Zero to sixty in like two seconds. Sexy, right?"
"No," Jasmine said flatly.
But Justin ignored it, "I knew you would like it."
Then he turned to look at Ethan with a smug look.
"You. What are you doing here?" Justin tried to shoo away Ethan, "Get going. There is no need for the security to be here. I will take good care of your boss."
"Shoo… Leave now."
But Ethan just leaned on Jasmine's car, unimpressed.
"Didn't you hear me?" Justin was angry. How dare a puny security guard dare ignore him.
"Like you said, she is my boss. I am not going anywhere leaving her with a pervert unless she says so," Ethan shrugged, turning towards Jasmine, "Right boss?"
"Huh.." Jasmine was left speechless. He threw the ball in her court and she couldn't say anything. Neither she can agree with him, nor she can refuse him.
"You…" Justin wanted to break the security guard's head, but he held himself back. He can't ruin his mood in front of Jasmine.
"Anyway, Jasmine, baby, come with me. You can't show up to a big meeting in his trash-bucket car. He probably drives a rusted Honda."
Jasmine crossed her arms, jaw tight.
Ethan raised a hand lazily. "Relax, buddy. I don't drive rust unless it's vintage."
Justin scoffed, "Yeah right. Show me this so-called car."
Ethan pointed toward the row of vehicles at the back, specifically near parking space 17.
Due to the lighting, it looked like he was pointing at the sad, rusty beige Honda sedan sitting in the shadows. His luck. There was actually an old Honda right there on spot 19.
That thing looked like it survived world war, and a zombie apocalypse at the same time.
Justin took one look and BURST out laughing.
"Hahahaha! Oh my GOD! Jasmine, look at that thing!" he cackled, "Didn't I say he had a Honda? Fucking hell, he actually does. Hahahaha!"
"Does it even have AC? Does the door shut without duct tape? That's not a car, one wrong move and you will be running to the doctor for a tetanus shot."
Jasmine stared at the car and the frown on her face deepened. For a second her pride almost cracked. But she still refused to surrender.
She exhaled sharply.
"Ethan," she said, voice steady but dying inside, "Let's go. I am already late."
Justin looked stunned. This was nonsensical.
"You are seriously choosing THAT junk over my Ferrari?"
Jasmine turned to him with a tight smile.
"I would rather sit on a porcupine."
Ethan smirked, "Oof. She likes you, man. Keep up the good work."
Justin flushed red, "You are making a mistake!" he snapped.
Jasmine shot him one final icy glare.
"No, Justin. The mistake… is wasting time talking to you."
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