I parked Victor's luxury sports car with precision, ignoring his fidgeting beside me. The entire fifteen-minute drive to the Emperor Palace Hotel, he'd been a bundle of nerves—all because I refused to drive above the speed limit.
"You know," Victor said, checking his watch for the fifth time, "when people borrow a sports car, they usually want to feel the power, the acceleration."
I handed him the keys with a polite smile. "And risk getting a ticket? No thanks."
"You drove exactly five miles under the speed limit the whole way," he said, sounding genuinely perplexed. "I've never seen anyone drive a McLaren that slowly."
"Safety first," I replied, unable to suppress my amusement at his disappointment. "Your car is worth more than most people's houses."
Victor glanced at his watch again and winced. "I'm late for my meeting. Thank you for driving, even if you treated my car like a retirement home shuttle."
