If it were purely cars—beastial monsters of polished steel, gentle aristocrats of old money, masculine machines that announced Masculinity Just Walked Into The Room before the engine had even breathed, silent predators built around quiet dominance, elegant killers for princes with bloodline arrogance, dragons disguised as automobiles, and every other breed of speed, wealth and mechanical temptation a heart could desire—Jade's dealership had it all.
And not merely had it in the ordinary commercial sense.
No.
Jade's second floor was less a showroom and more a private sanctuary where the world's finest machines had been gathered, refined, sharpened, reborn and taught better manners before being allowed into the presence of wealth.
Each car she showed Phei seemed somehow better than the last, and the deeper they walked through that gleaming mechanical paradise, the more obvious it became that nothing on this floor could be called normal without insulting normality itself:
