CHAPTER 43: BET ON THE BOLD

The heavy bass of the music pulsed through the club as Dressa stepped inside, her sharp eyes scanning the crowd.

She was used to places like this. Dimly lit, filled with people who thought they were important, all trying to prove something. She had no patience for that.

With a breath of confidence, she strode through the mass of bodies, effortlessly maneuvering past drunken dancers and groups of men who looked at her a little too long.

She wasn’t here to party.

Dressed in a fitted black leather jacket, cropped just above her waist, Dressa exuded an effortless cool. Underneath, a deep red top clung to her form, complimenting her toned physique.

Paired with high waisted jeans that hugged her hips and sleek black boots that clicked against the floor, she looked every bit the runner she was— untouchable, fearless and always ready to take to the tracks.

As she walked by, a couple heads turned. Some recognized her, murmuring her name, but she abruptly ignored them. She wasn’t here for attention or to sign autographs.

She was here for Zack.

The flashing neon lights cast sharp shadows on her face, accentuating the sly smirk tugging at her lips.

Her dark hair was tied up in a high ponytail, a few loose strands framing her face, and her makeup was minimal, just enough to highlight her sharp cheekbones and piercing eyes.

She carried herself like she owned the place, like she was above it all. Because in her mind, she was.

Reaching the VIP section, she spotted Zack lounging on one of the leather couches, a whiskey glass in hand, grinning like hed just won a bet he hadn’t placed yet.

"Dressa!" Zack greeted smoothly, raising his glass in a half toast. "Your timing couldn’t have been more perfect!".

She slid into her seat across from him, draping one leg over the other as she crossed her arms.

"I don’t like waiting," she said coolly.

Zack chuckled. "Oh but good things come upon does who wait..." He mentioned to the bartender, who immediately stepped forward. "What are you drinking?"

"Not here to drink, " she said, giving him a pointed look.

Zack smirked, swirling his whiskey. "Loosen up would ya? It’s just a chat. One drink won’t kill you."

Dressa rolled her eyes, "Fine! I’ll take a vodka with ice, lots of it."

The bartender nodded and left, and Zack leaned back, staring at her. "You know, you’re really bad at small talk."

"I don’t waste time on pointless things" she shot back. "Let’s get to the reason I’m here."

"Straight to business, huh?" Zack mused. He took a slow sip of his whiskey before setting the glass down. "Alright, the race."

Dressa raised a brow. "Really? You’re actually very serious about this? Your little friend — the bike, investment guy is supposed to challenge me?"

Zack grinned wider. "Maximus is more than just a bike guy, I have the feeling he would smoke that tight ass of yours..."

Dressa laughed mockingly, "oh just like my last opponent that you were so sure he would ’smoke my tight little ass’".

She leaned forward back again the plush of the leather seat, one arm draped casually over the backrest as she eyed Zack with skepticism.

The bartender set her drink down, but she didn’t reach for it. Instead, she crossed one leg over the other, tapping her fingers lightly against her knee.

"What’s in for me?" She asked, her tone was sharp.

Zack’s smirk widened and he took his time swirling the amber liquid in his glass before answering.

"Bragging rights," he said smoothly. "The satisfaction of proving that you’re the best to ever grace the track. Isn’t that enough for you?"

Dressa scoffed, her expression turning to one of mild amusement. "Bragging rights?" She repeated. "I don’t get in my running shoes for free just to put some random guy in his place. If there’s no monetary profit, I’m out."

She picked up her glass the, taking a slow sip before setting it back down with a soft clink. "Nice try, Zaccheus, but I don’t race for fun."

Zack let out a short laugh, shaking his head. "Knew you’d say that." Without hesitation, he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table, and met her gaze. "Fine, let’s make it interesting, I’ll put fifty grand on Maximus’s win."

Dressa raised a brow. "Fifty grand?"

"You heard me." He leaned back with an easy confidence, as if fifty thousand dollars was pocket change.

She studied him, her lips pressing into a thin line as she mulled it over. "You’re really that confident in him?"

Zack chuckled, taking another sip of his whiskey before answering. "Confident enough to put my money where my mouth is. If you’re so sure you’ll win, then this should be the easiest fifty grand you’ve ever made."

Dressa didn’t respond immediately.

Instead, she tilted her head slightly, as if weighing her words. She knew Zack well enough to tell when he was bluffing, and this wasn’t one of those times.

He genuinely believed Maximus could win.

That all made her more curious than anything.

"You’ve seen him run?" She asked after a moment.

Zack tilted his head, "nope..."

"And then you think he can beat me?"

"Think?" Zack let out a short laugh. "I know he can..."

Dressa exhaled through her mouth, shaking her head with a slight smack.

"You really are a gambling Man huh?"

Zach grinned. "Only when I like my odds."

A string of silence passed between them, the hum of the club surrounding them like background noise. Then, finally, Dressa let out a quiet chuckle, leaning forward to rest her arms on the table.

"Alright," she said, amusement flickering in her eyes. "You’ve got yourself a bet."

Zacks grin widened, and he raised his glass in a silent toast. "That’s what I like to hear."

Dressa clinked her glass against his, taking a sip before setting it back down. "Where and when?"

"Tomorrow night," Zack replied. "Industrial district stadium. Long track. No interruptions."

She nodded slowly, the smirked. "Hope your boy doesn’t cry when he looses."

Zack chuckled, leaning back against the seat. "You should be more worried about how you’ll handle losing to him."

Dressa rolled her eyes, finishing off her drink in one go before standing up. "We’ll see about that." She tossed a few bills onto the table for the drink and shot Zack a final look. "Tell your guy to bring his best. I don’t go easy on anyone."

Zack watched her leave, amusement still lingering his his facial expression. He had no doubt Dressa was good, damn good. But Maximus? He could do anything as long as he put his mind to it.

And he couldn’t wait to see it all play out.