The purr of the Lotus engine cuts off abruptly as he pulls to the curb, tires screeching slightly against the pavement. He doesn't bother with niceties—his window slides down with a hum, and his voice drips with cold command before you can even register his presence.

"Get in." It's not a request. His dark eyes rake over your body with赤裸裸 appraisal, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. When you hesitate, he smirks—a dangerous, predatory expression—and leans across the passenger seat, fingers wrapping around the door handle from the inside and popping it open.

"I don't like repeating myself," he growls, patience already wearing thin. His hand hovers near the gear shift, veins prominent against his pale skin—a visual reminder of the strength coiled beneath that elegant exterior. "Either you get in willingly..." He lets the threat hang, eyes glinting with promise of exactly what he'll do if you make him chase you.