I rubbed the small of his back as he groaned. “I joke, but you’re not an old man, justmyold man.”
Luke pinched my chin and pecked my lips. “I know. And you’re my playboy.”
An hour later, we were showered and on the road with to-go coffees in the Range Rover’s cup holders. We both had on jeans, and I’d helped myself to one of Luke’s undershirts and a sweater softer than anything I’d worn before. He’d mumbled something about his doorman as we’d left, but whatever it was concluded with a “fuck it.”
City streets and buildings disappeared quickly once on the highway. Luke wouldn’t tell me the surprise, no matter how many blow jobs I promised. Ten minutes after getting on the interstate, he exited, then turned into some sort of industrial park with warehouses in the distance.
“Where are we?”
Luke grinned in answer before stopping briefly at a guard station, who opened a wide gate for us with a wave, and then he drove down the lane between buildings. Most had huge bay doors, and none had any activity. This place was a ghost town.
He stopped at a cream-colored building with white roll-up doors that looked the same as all the others.
“Come on.” Luke hopped out and headed for a panel beside one door. He unlocked it with a key, used a different key inside the box, then punched in a code.
The door lurched once, then opened smoothly without much noise beyond a series of clicks. The interior was dark, size or contents unknown. Luke kept throwing me grins over his shoulder, which made me return it without knowing why.
I followed him in, staying inside the square of natural light. “What’s in here?” My voice echoed.
“You’ll see.” Luke stepped into the shadows. I could barely make out his silhouette along the wall, and a second later, the door started to close behind me.
I didn’t fear the dark, and I trusted Luke not to put me in danger, but I was a little worried, wouldn’t deny it.
The door closed completely with a final rumble, and then a loud click brought light to the warehouse.
“Holy …” I stumbled a step forward, eyes out on stalks at the rows of sparkling cars. “Luke?”
“The Dorset car collection.”
“What? All of these?” The Shelby sat proudly in the row of classics along one side. Across from them were newer cars. From muscle to exotic, American to European to Asian, there had to be thirty cars inside the long room with a wide alley between them. Wide enough to safely drive one to the exit.
Luke took my hand, lacing our fingers, and tugged me toward the first car, a red Ferrari. As he had at the car show, he told me a bit about each, where it was found and when, and how much work had been done to it and so on.
“One day, I want a house on acres with a garage right on the property for my own collection.”
“You drive them all?” I asked.
“Not as often as I’d like. We have a crew who keeps them ready at a moment’s notice.”
I stopped and faced him. There’d been plenty of suspicion about this man, but now I narrowed my eyes, thinking. The events, the donations, the wine sold for several grand, with more where it came from, his parents’ mansion, his two-floor penthouse apartment, the casual way he wore his money …
“Not that I really care, but just how rich are you?”
Luke huffed a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh, my exact net worth fluctuates with the market, but I’m squarely in the multi-millions, not including my non-liquid assets.”
“Jesus.” I shook my head. “Fuck, Luke. Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Why would I? I don’t go around introducing myself as Luke, millionaire.”
I stared, then snorted. “Okay, yeah, good point. So this …” I waved at the open room.
“About seven million. It’s not the largest collection by far.”
“Dude, my Civic cost six grand. This is amazing.”
“Thank you.”
He followed me as I moved down the line of cars and started up the other side.
