Amara's home— a mansion probably described it better— was a grand facade of sweeping curves and intricate stonework. With beautifully manicured lawns and a colourful garden that seemed to stretch for miles, the driveway was lined with trees leading up to the mansion's entrance.
Avery could make out more than a dozen of luxurious sport cars parked in the garage— their gleaming exterior enough to intimidate anyone who was earning less than a seven figure paycheck.
"Well now you can guess what Amara does in her free time." Vicente answered the unasked question in Avery's eyes. "Chairwoman by day and mad racer by night." Avery arched a brow in wonder.
"Take this as an advice from a person with experience, never let Amara drive." Vicente whispered to Avery.
"Noted." The horrors in Vicente's eyes didn't look fake and Avery wasn't keen on exploring the imprints that Amara's driving skills had left on his grandfather.
