Potential capital partnership.
Something confidential.
The manager recovered.
“And your role?”
The woman looked toward the blue Bugatti.
“Senior enough.”
The manager’s irritation returned.
She disliked customers who refused straightforward status signals.
“Are you prepared to provide proof of funds?”
“Are you prepared to show me the vehicle?”
“That isn't how this works.”
The woman nodded slowly.
“Good.”
“What?”
“I wanted to know whether you would say that.”
The manager stared.
The woman took the leather specification folder gently from her hand.
Flipped through it.
Not reading every page.
Checking.
Optional carbon finish.
Interior package.
Prior ownership.
Mileage.
Factory service information.
The manager watched her scan.
Then said:
“You seem familiar with the car.”
“I am.”
“Have you owned Bugattis before?”
“Yes.”
The manager laughed.
A mistake.
Not loud.
But audible.
The woman looked up.
The showroom became subtly quieter.
“What was funny?”
The manager realized she had gone too far.
“Nothing.”
“You laughed.”
“I apologize.”
“For?”
The manager’s lips tightened.
“It sounded unexpected.”
“Why?”
The junior associate looked toward the floor.
The manager’s frustration sharpened.
She was losing control of the interaction.
“I think we are getting off track.”
“No.”
The woman closed the folder.
“I think we finally found the track.”
She handed it back.
Then opened the driver’s door fully.
The manager reached out and snatched the folder before it slipped.
“No.”
The woman looked at her.
The manager’s face had hardened.
“I cannot authorize you to sit in this vehicle.”
The woman calmly removed the feathered wrap entirely and placed it over the junior associate’s arms.
Then she stepped into the Bugatti.
One leg.
Then the other.
Lowered herself into the vivid orange seat.
The showroom seemed to stop.
The car fit around her like jewelry.
Silver crystal fabric against orange leather.
Diamond earrings catching reflected blue carbon.
One hand settled lightly on the steering wheel.
She did not touch buttons.
Did not start anything.
She simply sat.
The manager stared.
Then marched toward the door.
“Get out.”
The junior associate looked alarmed.
The woman turned her head.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
Several customers were openly watching now.
The manager leaned over the open driver’s door.
“This is a multimillion-dollar vehicle, not a photo booth.”
The woman’s face remained calm.
“I’m not taking pictures.”
“Then step out.”
“Why?”
“Because I told you.”
The woman looked toward the junior associate.