Gabriel did not repeat himself.
Three days after the Lantern Garden, he called her at 9:17 p.m.
Not a message.
A call.
Camille answered on the fourth ring.
"Good evening," she said, calm as ever.
"Are you free?" he asked.
"For what?"
"A drive."
A pause.
The kind where she measures intention.
"It's late."
"I know."
Silence.
Then—
"Fine."
---
When she stepped outside, she did not overdress.
Dark fitted jeans. A sleek black blouse that traced her waist without effort. Heels — because she always wore heels. Her braids were down tonight, falling freely over her shoulders.
Controlled, but softer.
Then she saw the car.
Low.
Sculpted.
Matte black.
A Lamborghini.
Not loud in colour.
Just in presence.
He stepped out before she reached it, shutting the driver's door behind him.
"You're driving?" she asked.
"Yes."
He opened the passenger door.
The interior smelled like leather and something expensive and understated.
She slid inside smoothly.
No awe.
No wide-eyed reaction.
Just observation.
That made him notice her more.
The engine started with a restrained growl — not obnoxious, but powerful. The vibration travelled through the seat subtly.
"You enjoy control," she said as they pulled away from the kerb.
"I enjoy precision."
Streetlights streaked across the windscreen as the city thinned into quieter roads.
The car accelerated effortlessly.
Fast — but never reckless.
Gabriel drove the way he lived.
Calculated.
Steady.
Camille watched him as much as the road.
One hand on the steering wheel.
Jaw set but relaxed.
Eyes focused, sharp, deliberate.
"You look different when you drive," she said.
"How?"
"Less guarded."
That made him glance at her briefly.
"I'm not guarded."
"You are."
He didn't argue.
The engine deepened as he shifted gears, the sound low and controlled. The power of the car was obvious — but so was his command over it.
She noticed something else.
He never showed off.
He never accelerated to impress her.
He drove with discipline.
That unsettled her more than speed would have.
They reached a scenic overlook where the city lights stretched endlessly below them. He parked facing the skyline.
Engine off.
Silence settled instantly.
The absence of the engine made the quiet heavier.
Intentional.
"You're studying me again," he said without looking at her.
"I am."
"And what have you concluded?"
She took her time answering.
"That you don't lose control. Even when you want to."
That pulled his gaze to hers fully.
"And what makes you think I want to?"
Her eyes flicked briefly to his mouth.
Then back to his eyes.
"Because you didn't kiss me."
The space inside the Lamborghini felt smaller suddenly.
Closer.
His hand remained on the steering wheel for a moment longer before he let it fall between them on the centre console.
Close to her thigh.
Not touching.
"You think driving a Lamborghini impresses you?" he asked quietly.
"No."
"What does?"
She leaned back slightly, composed as ever.
"Consistency."
The word lingered in the dark interior.
Power outside.
Control inside.
Neither reached across the distance.
But the air between them was thicker now.
More aware.
And Gabriel realised something as he watched her in the dim dashboard glow —
She was not impressed by the car.
She was assessing the man who drove it.