Mike Carter stepped out of the parking lot and immediately spotted Jason Miles waving at him.
"Mike, over here!" Jason called out with a smug grin.
Mike's gaze shifted to Jason and Sophia Rivers, only to realize they weren't alone. Standing next to Sophia was Leila Stewart, whose displeasure was written all over her face.
The Arc de Triomphe's grand entrance gleamed under the evening lights, its ornate arches framing a magnificent knight's statue. Tourists and locals alike paused to snap photos near the statue, but Sophia and Leila, standing beneath it, outshone everything around them. Together, the two stunning women were an undeniable highlight, drawing more eyes than the intricate stonework.
Mike approached the trio, and Jason's smirk widened. He seemed to revel in the opportunity to undermine him.
"Took your time getting here, didn't you?" Jason remarked, feigning politeness.
"Traffic," Mike replied curtly.
Jason burst out laughing. "Traffic? On a motorbike? Oh, come on, Mike. Who are you trying to fool? Where's your dad?"
Mike frowned. "What does my dad have to do with anything?"
Jason raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying himself. "Oh, don't play dumb. Isn't that old guy on the motorbike your dad? What, too embarrassed to admit it?"
Mike's confusion gave way to realization, and he sighed. "You're mistaken. That wasn't my dad. It was just a rideshare motorbike I happened to take. The guy needed a fare, so I helped him out."
Jason's laughter erupted again, louder and more mocking this time. "Sure, sure. Helping out a motorbike guy. Mike, you'll say anything to save face, won't you?"
Leila, who had been scowling since Mike's arrival, now crossed her arms, her expression growing colder. "Mike, that's your father, isn't it? How could you deny him like that? Your dad works hard to provide for you, and you can't even acknowledge him?"
"Leila, that's not my dad," Mike insisted, his patience wearing thin. "But you wouldn't believe me even if I explained."
Sophia intervened, her gentle voice trying to de-escalate the tension. "Let's not make this a big deal. We're here to eat, not argue."
But Leila was having none of it. She turned to Sophia. "I don't understand why you'd associate with someone like him. If this keeps up, I'm leaving."
Jason, emboldened by the unfolding drama, added fuel to the fire. "Why don't you call your dad to pick you up on his motorbike? Or better yet, why don't you take us all for a ride on it? I'm sure the valet won't mind parking it."
Mike sighed, rubbing his temples. "The bike's in the parking lot."
Jason's laughter intensified. "In the parking lot? A motorbike? You're killing me, Carter. Do you even know where you are? The Arc de Triomphe's parking lot doesn't allow something as lowly as a motorbike."
Mike remained calm, though inwardly he was losing patience. "Actually, it does. The rider was my guest, so I invited him to dinner. And yes, he parked in the VIP section."
Jason's mockery faltered for a moment. "VIP section? What VIP section?"
Sophia and Leila exchanged glances. Unlike Jason, they knew the Arc de Triomphe had a VIP section reserved for members. Leila's skepticism deepened, but Sophia's curiosity piqued.
"Let's go inside," Mike suggested. "It's getting late, and I'm starving. Jason, you're treating us, right? I hear they have a fresh shipment of Romanée-Conti. Perfect for the occasion."
Jason's face turned crimson. Romanée-Conti? That wine cost over $20,000 a bottle.
"Sure," Jason stammered, his voice shaking slightly. "Let's… let's head in."
As they walked toward the entrance, a heated argument caught their attention. A middle-aged man and a young woman stood by the reception desk. The woman, dressed in a revealing outfit, pouted as she demanded entry.
"But I just want to try their signature dishes," she whined. "Why won't you let us in?"
The man sighed, clearly embarrassed. "We don't have a membership, sweetheart. Without it, we can't get in."
"Then get a membership!" she snapped.
"That requires a $150,000 deposit," he replied, exasperated. "Do you think I'm made of money?"
Jason's jaw dropped. $150,000 just to dine here? His confidence evaporated. Suddenly, his plan to impress everyone had backfired spectacularly.
"Uh, Sophia, something urgent just came up at home," Jason muttered. "Let's reschedule." Without waiting for a response, he hurried away, his tail firmly between his legs.
Sophia turned to Mike. "Well, since we're here, let's go inside."
Leila groaned. "This is ridiculous. Are we really going to eat with him?"
Sophia's gaze softened. "Leila, Mike's not as bad as you think. Let's give him a chance."
Reluctantly, Leila followed them in. As they sat down, Mike handed Sophia an envelope.
"This is for you," he said. "It's the money you lent my mom. Thank you for what you did. I'll never forget it."
Sophia smiled, her cheeks tinged pink. "You didn't have to do this. We're friends, right? Friends help each other out."
Mike blinked. "Friends?" The word felt foreign to him, but also comforting.
"Of course," Sophia said. "And if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."
For the first time in a long while, Mike felt a genuine connection. Smiling, he nodded. "The same goes for you."
Sophia's smile widened as she leaned closer. "Actually, there is something you could help me with. Tomorrow's my birthday. Would you come to my party?"
Mike's eyes widened in surprise. "Your birthday? At your house?"
Sophia giggled. "Yes. Will you come?"
Mike's heart raced. "I wouldn't miss it for the world."