She Works At Luxury Car Dealership, Unaware The Test Driver Is A Millionaire Driving Toward Her
Beyond the Business of Cars
As she watched him walk to a waiting Uber, Tara appeared at her side. “Well, is he buying?”
“He’s thinking about it,” Riley replied, still holding his business card.
“Let me see that,” Tara said, plucking the card from Riley’s fingers.
She pulled out her phone, quickly typing his name. After a moment, her eyes widened. “Riley, do you have any idea who you just spent the morning with?”
“A potential buyer who’s considering the Roma,” Riley replied, reaching for the card.
“This is Vaughn Hawthorne, founder of Nova Energy, the company revolutionizing solar technology.”
When Riley’s expression remained blank, Tara continued. “He’s worth billions, Riley. Billions, and he asked you about dinner recommendations.”
Riley took back the card, suddenly seeing the embossed logo in a new light—a stylized sun rising over a horizon.
“He asked me to join him, actually,” Riley said.
“And you said no?” Tara looked scandalized.
“Of course I said no. He’s a client.”
“He’s not a client until he buys something,” Tara pointed out. “And even if he does, you’re not his salesperson. You’re in client relations. Different department, different rules.”
Riley shook her head, tucking the card into her pocket. “It doesn’t matter who he is. I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
“Your loss,” Tara sighed dramatically. “If a billionaire who looks like that invited me to dinner, I’d be picking out my outfit, not making excuses.”
Riley spent the rest of the day trying not to think about Von Hawthorne, which proved surprisingly difficult.
She told herself it was just professional interest. After all, a client of his caliber could mean significant business for the dealership.
But she couldn’t deny the flutter she’d felt when their hands touched as he’d returned the keys.
That evening, as Riley sat alone in her apartment with takeout Thai food, her phone pinged with a notification. It was an email from an unfamiliar address, but the subject line caught her attention: “Thank you for the recommendation.”
It was from Vaughn. “The Marina Bistro was excellent, though I suspect it would have been even better with company. Looking forward to tomorrow’s test drive. P.S. I think I need to try the Aston Martin DB11 as well. Would that be possible?”
Riley smiled despite herself and replied that she’d have both cars ready in the morning.
When she arrived at work the next day, there was a delivery waiting. It was a small box from a local bakery containing fresh pastries for the staff, with a note for the Elite Motors team: “Thank you for your exceptional service. VH”.
“If he’s not your type, can I have him?” Tara joked, biting into a chocolate croissant.
“He’s just being polite,” Riley insisted, though she couldn’t help wondering if the gesture was meant specifically for her.
At precisely 10:00, Vaughn arrived. This time he was in a charcoal suit that made him look even more handsome.
“Good morning, Riley,” he said, his smile warming his green eyes. “Ready for round two?”
They spent the morning testing both the Ferrari and the Aston Martin. They drove along different routes that showcased each car’s unique handling.
Vaughn was knowledgeable and engaging, asking questions that revealed a genuine passion for automotive engineering.
“You know a lot about cars for someone in the energy sector,” Riley observed as they paused at a scenic overlook in the Aston Martin.
Vaughn looked slightly surprised. “You looked me up.”
“My colleague did,” Riley admitted. “I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. Though I should warn you, the internet tends to exaggerate.”
“So you’re not the wunderkind of renewable energy who’s revolutionizing the power grid?” Riley quoted from the article she’d read last night.
Vaughn laughed. “The technology is revolutionary. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time with the right team.”
His humility was unexpected and refreshing. Most wealthy clients Riley dealt with were eager to establish their importance.
“To answer your question,” he continued, “My father restored classic cars as a hobby. Some of my best memories are helping him in the garage. It became my passion, too.”
As they continued driving, Riley found herself sharing more about her own life. She spoke of her childhood in a small Florida town and her parents, who still ran the family hardware store.
She shared her dream of eventually starting her own business.
“What kind of business?” Vaughn asked, genuinely interested.
“I’m still figuring that out,” Riley admitted. “Something that combines my love of cars with my business background. Maybe classic car restoration and sales for women. The luxury car world is still very male-dominated.”
“That’s a fantastic concept,” Vaughn said. “The industry needs more diverse perspectives.”
When they returned to the dealership, Riley expected Vaughn to make a decision about purchasing one of the cars. Instead, he surprised her.
“Would it be possible to test the Bentley Continental GT tomorrow?” he asked.
Riley checked the schedule. “We have one available, but I’m afraid I have meetings all morning. My colleague Jason could assist you.”
Vaughn shook his head. “I’d prefer to work with you. Is there any time in the afternoon that works?”
“I could do 3:00,” Riley offered, feeling oddly pleased that he wanted to continue working with her specifically.
“Perfect,” Vaughn said. “And Riley, I know you don’t socialize with clients, but what about potential clients? I still haven’t bought anything yet.”
His smile was playful. “Would you consider having dinner with me tonight? Purely as a Miami resident showing a visitor the local cuisine.”
Riley hesitated, aware of Tara watching them from the reception desk. There was no explicit rule against socializing with clients, and technically, as Vaughn pointed out, he wasn’t a client yet.
“Okay,” she found herself saying. “But just dinner as a local guide.”
“Just dinner,” Vaughn agreed, though his smile suggested he was as aware as she was that this wasn’t simply a professional courtesy.
That night, Vaughn picked Riley up in a rented Tesla. “Practicing what I preach,” he explained.
He took her to a small Cuban restaurant in Little Havana that somehow had managed to stay under the tourist radar.
As they shared crispy empanadas and tender ropa vieja, their conversation flowed naturally. They discussed cars, childhood memories, favorite books, and travel experiences.
Riley found herself laughing more than she had in months, drawn to Vaughn’s intelligence and unexpected sense of humor.
“So why are you really in Miami?” Riley asked over flan dessert. “You could test drive cars anywhere.”
Vaughn’s expression grew more serious. “Truth: Nova is opening a new solar manufacturing facility here. We’re using a revolutionary new material that makes panels more efficient and less expensive. It could make solar energy accessible to communities that previously couldn’t afford it.”
The passion in his voice was unmistakable.
“You really believe in what you’re doing, don’t you?” Riley asked.
“I have to,” Vaughn replied. “Climate change isn’t waiting for us to get our act together. But I didn’t bring you here to talk about work.”
He smiled. “Tell me more about this business you want to start.”
By the time he drove her home, Riley had shared more of her dreams and ideas than she’d told anyone in years. Standing at her door, she felt a curious mix of excitement and apprehension.
“Thank you for dinner,” she said. “It was unexpected.”
“In a good way, I hope,” Vaughn replied, standing close enough that she could smell his cologne. “Something subtle and woodsy.”
“Definitely good,” Riley confirmed. “But I should remind you that I’m still your client relations specialist and you’re still considering a purchase.”
“I am,” Vaughn agreed, his eyes holding hers. “But I think we both know I’m considering more than just cars at this point.”
Before Riley could respond, he leaned in and kissed her cheeks softly.
“Good night, Riley. I’ll see you tomorrow at 3:00.”
She watched him walk back to his car, her heart racing far more than it had during any of their test drives.
