Too Late, Mr. Billionaire: Meet Your Son

oyota was broken, blowing lukewarm air that smelled faintly of burning d

, flipping down the visor mirror to check her lipstick. "You

s fixed on the bumper of

ntinued, turning slightly to look at him in the bac

ng the sharp angles of his jaw. The silence in the car was thick, suffocating. Every

ch. She needed this to be over.

ont of them slamm

stomped on the pedal, but the old brake pads w

un

s loud. The Toyota's front bumper

hand flying to the

cing himself. His other hand instinctively flew forward, hovering inches from Elara's

ar st

le

an's voice was low, tigh

" Elara whispered

A man in a flashy suit stormed out, his face

d against Elara's window. "This is a limited editio

rols. The glass rolled down with a

e stammered. "I hi

the Toyota's tire. "You shouldn't even be on the road

. Now we're going to be late

k door

motion. He stood a full head taller than the Porsche driver. The

d-sentence. He looked up at

glanced at the scratch. He turned to the man, stepping

t carried a weight that made the other man shrink. His posture was le

it me," the m

t a slim metal card case. He extracted a bla

handle the repairs and the depreciat

ng. The color drained from his face. "Mr. Sterling

Julian

mbled back t

t Elara through the open window. She was trem

ver," h

ha

. Or the back. I don't car

a insisted, wiping

and closing around her wrist. His skin was hot ag

, for her ears only. "Y

, her legs wobbly. Julian didn't let go of

to the back

got into the driver's seat. He adjusted the

anger, Elara thought she saw a