The drive back to the dealership was smooth, the Porsche handling like a dream, but even as Ethan navigated the streets effortlessly, he couldn''t shake the feeling that something was missing.

    The car was fast — sleek, powerful, everything a person could want. But for him, it lacked the raw connection he felt on his bike.

    Zack, riding shotgun, was practically vibrating with excitement, still riding the high from their test run.

    "Man, that thing moves!" he laughed, running a hand through his hair. "I''m telling you, you made the right call buying this. Top-tier choice, my guy."

    Ethan hummed, pulling into the dealership lot with a smooth turn of the wheel. He let the engine purr for a second before shutting it off. "Yeah, it''s solid."

    Zack stared at him like he''d grown another head. "Solid? Bro, we just flew through that track like we were in a damn racing movie, and all you can say is solid?"

    Ethan smirked, unbuckling his seatbelt. "Still prefer a bike."

    Zack let out an exaggerated groan before promptly reaching over and bonking Ethan on the head. "What is wrong with you?"

    Ethan chuckled, rubbing the spot. "I like feeling the road. A bike gives you that."

    "Yeah, yeah," Zack sighed, stepping out of the car. "At this point, I should''ve known better than to expect a normal reaction from you."

    Ethan followed him out, locking the car before glancing at his phone.

    The bike he had left at the dealership was still sitting where he parked it earlier, waiting to be taken home.

    It wasn''t just any bike — it was his favorite ride, the one thing he actually cared about more than any car he could buy.

    He shot Zack a look. "Help me get my bike home?"

    Zack grinned. "Knew you''d say that. I got you, man."

    They walked over to where the bike was parked. Ethan ran a hand along the handlebars, checking it over briefly before tossing the keys to Zack.

    "You take the car," Ethan said, pulling his helmet on. "I''ll ride the bike back."

    Zack caught the keys midair and grinned. "Finally, some trust. I''ll take good care of her."

    "Scratch it, and I''ll kill you," Ethan warned, throwing a leg over the bike.

    Zack snorted. "Noted."

    With that, Ethan started the bike, the familiar hum beneath him making him feel right again. No matter how many cars he bought, this was what he truly loved.

    Ethan smirked, finally stepping off the bike. "Never came up."

    Zack shook his head, still looking around in awe. "Never came up? Never came up? You live in a goddamn palace, Ethan!"

    Ethan shrugged. "It''s just a house."

    Zack groaned. "You are the worst kind of rich person."

    Ethan chuckled. "Come on. We need to check on the resort site, see if the order came in."

    Zack let out a breath, rubbing the back of his head. "Fine, fine. But I''m gonna need a full tour of this place later."

    Ethan smirked. "We''ll see."

    With that, they headed inside.

    The moment Zack stepped inside, he looked around, his expectations sky-high.

    He had been ready for a wave of beautiful maids in tight uniforms to greet them, bowing respectfully as they entered.

    Maybe some high-tech automated butler system. At the very least, some ridiculously over-the-top luxury.

    Instead... it was bland.

    Zack blinked. "Wait. This is it?"

    Ethan, already walking toward the kitchen, barely spared him a glance. "What were you expecting?"

    "I don''t know, man, something! I thought you''d have, like, maids or a butler or at least some kind of personal chef."

    Ethan let out a small chuckle as he pulled out a kettle. "I don''t need all that."

    Zack gave him a look like he''d just spoken in a foreign language. "Bro. You''re rich. You don''t have to do things yourself anymore."

    Ethan just shook his head and grabbed two cups, setting them down on the counter as the water heated up.

    Zack leaned against the couch, still trying to process how normal everything was.

    "Alright, but hear me out," Zack said, gesturing around the room. "A few housekeepers wouldn''t hurt. Maybe one of those crazy expensive coffee machines. Hell, at least a fridge stocked with some high-quality liquor."

    Ethan reached for a container of ground coffee. "I don''t need housekeepers. And I don''t drink much."