Ethan barely had time to process the strange encounter before he heard rushed footsteps from inside the club.
Zack came barreling through the entrance, his suit unbuttoned, the first few buttons of his dress shirt undone, and sweat glistening on his forehead like he had just sprinted across the place.
"Wait — !" Zack called after the woman, but neither he nor Ethan were fast enough.
Both men stood there, watching as the woman climbed into a sleek, matte-black Lamborghini Huracán, the engine roaring to life before she sped off, tires screeching against the pavement.
The car disappeared into the evening traffic in a blink, leaving only the scent of burning rubber and expensive perfume in its wake.
Ethan crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow at Zack. "What the hell did you do to her?"
Zack let out a frustrated groan, running a hand through his already messy hair. "Nothing — well, not nothing. It's complicated."