Chapter 357: Chapter 356: Sophie’s Scheme
Seeing this, Rex shrugged and also slid into the driver’s seat. From outside, Hannah, Daisy, and Elara were already heading toward Daisy’s car, casting one last look at the Ferrari before climbing in.
Beside him, Sophie was practically vibrating with excitement, her head swiveling from the dash to the wheel to the sleek carbon-fiber controls like a kid let loose in an amusement park. Her fingers hovered just above the gearshift as if she wanted to touch but didn’t dare.
Seeing her so excited, he couldn’t help smirk, mind you even he wasn’t as excited as her when he got the car.
"You look like you’re about to marry the car," Rex teased, looking over casually. "Should I leave you two alone?"
Sophie shot him a mock glare but her lips curled into a grin. "Don’t be jealous, Rex. Not everyone gets to sit in a Ferreri Daytona SR3, okay? This is history!"
He chuckled. "Yeah, well, history will be very short if you keep poking at buttons you don’t understand."
She stuck her tongue out but didn’t deny it, still practically glued to the dash.
Before turning the ignition, he gave her a once-over, as she was practically bouncing in her seat, eyes sparkling, feet tapping softly against the mat like she couldn’t contain the energy, to check if everything was okay, that’s when he noticed that she hadn’t buckled the seat belt yet.
Seatbelt first, Miss Supercar Enthusiast. I’d like you to reach the restaurant in one piece.
"Oh...right" Sophie scrambled for the belt and tugged it across her shoulder, but the mechanism caught halfway. "but how do I even—uh..." She frowned, pulled harder, then twisted it at a weird angle.The strap refused to budge.
"Ugh, Why is this thing so complicated? Normal cars just click, but nooo, this thing has to make me feel like I need an engineering degree. What is this, a race car or a rocket ship?" She tried again, twisting it in all the wrong directions.
"What’s wrong with this thing? Is it broken?" she complained.
Rex glanced over as she fumbled, his brow twitching. "Sophie... it’s a seatbelt, not rocket science. Just pull and click."
"I am pulling and clicking!" she shot back, tugged harder, then twisted, only making it worse. The strap now twisted across her shoulder like a badly wrapped present. She gave it another tug, scowling. "What the... why is it fighting me?!"
Rex raised an eyebrow, clearly amused. "It’s called a seatbelt, not a wild animal."
She shot him a glare, cheeks puffed slightly. "Easy for you to say. This thing’s built for... for rich people coordination, not normal human hands! Maybe Ferrari doesn’t want ordinary mortals riding in their cars."
Rex sighed, half-amused, half-exasperated. "Alright, Move, before you strangle yourself."
Leaning over, he guided the strap into place. Inevitably, his arm brushed against her side, close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating through the thin fabric of her blouse. His hand lingered a fraction too long, and Sophie’s eyes flicked toward him with a spark of mischief.
"Well, well," Sophie grinned, voice dropping just a shade lower. "look at you, all professional. Do you practice buckling people in often?"
He exhaled through his nose, helping her buckle up, but still retorted "Only when they’re hopeless."
"Hopelessly charming, you mean?" she shot back, clearly enjoying herself.
Rex ignored the jab, focusing on the belt, but then he made the mistake of breathing in. When he inhaled, the faint, intoxicating scent hit him... something sweet, something hot, but not overpowering. Perfume? Or just Sophie herself? He didn’t know, and honestly, didn’t want to guess.
His throat went dry for a second, and he swallowed quickly, pretending it was nothing. Sophie, of course, caught it instantly. Instead of pulling back, she smirked, leaned the tiniest bit closer, smirking like a cat that had cornered its prey. "Oh? Look at you, getting all handsy. Should I be worried?"
Rex coughed lightly, his composure slipping for a heartbeat. With a quick, practiced motion, he untangled the strap, pulled it snug across her, and snapped it into place with a sharp click.
When he finally sat back, Sophie tilted her head, her lips curving into a sly, knowing smile. "What’s the matter, Rex? You look a little... tense. Are you okay?"
He rolled his shoulders back, forcing his face into a mask of calm, and started adjusting the steering wheel like she wasn’t there. "Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just making sure my passenger doesn’t end up flying through the windshield."
"Mm-hm. Sure, Sure," Sophie said, clearly unconvinced, her smirk widening. She reclined against the seat, eyes sparkling with triumph, looking smug, like she’d just succeeded in a secret scheme.
In truth, it wasn’t that Sophie couldn’t buckle the seatbelt. Please. She wasn’t dumb, and she wasn’t new to this world. If anything, as a certified car geek, she was probably the only one among the group to know every inch of the Daytona SR3’s specs... like how it isa naturally aspirated 6.5-liter V12, screaming to nearly 9,500 rpm, pumping out a ridiculous 829 horsepower.
She knew it could rocket from zero to sixty in 2.8 seconds flat, topping out just shy of 212 mph. She could tell you the exact layout of the mid-engine design, the carbon-fiber monocoque chassis, even how Ferreri’s engineers deliberately modeled its curves after their legendary prototypes of the ’60s.
She could probably recite those numbers faster than her own phone number, maybe even in her sleep. So, really, how could someone like her, who once got into a fight with a random car nerd on a forum about intake manifolds—not know how to fasten a basic seatbelt?
Exactly. She knew. She just pretended otherwise.
This was a scheme, pure and simple. A little scheme from the very start, Sophie had staged the whole "helpless damsel versus fancy Italian engineering" act with one goal in mind: to reel Rex in closer.
(End of Chapter)