The man, hands in pockets, belly thrust out, glanced around, noticing many eyes on him because he’d stepped out of a Bentley, including Jacob Wilson and Elaine nearby. He said loudly with a smug air, “Wang, take my Bentayga to the dealership for maintenance. Make sure they use the best engine oil.”
The driver nodded, saying respectfully, “Yes, Mr. Li, don’t worry, I’ll arrange it.”
The man added, “When you pick us up, bring the Alphard. My wife will want to shop in Dubai after the Maldives, and we’ll have a lot of stuff.”
“No problem, Mr. Li!” the driver nodded repeatedly.
The man seemed pleased, his loud voice drawing even more attention.
He said to the young woman beside him, “Back in the day, I always chartered private jets. This time, their aviation company’s plane is in the U.S. for maintenance, so you’ll have to put up with first class.”
The young woman giggled coyly, “Oh, darling, it’s fine. I’m not afraid of a little hardship with you. My only regret is not knowing you during your early struggles, or I’d have suffered alongside you!”
The man laughed heartily, “Oh, you’re such a good wife! Those words mean the world to me!”
Charlie wade and Claire Wilson paid the pair no mind, but Jacob Wilson took an extra look. Hearing the man boast, he muttered to Elaine beside him, “Tch, driving a measly Bentayga and acting all high and mighty, what a disgrace.”
Elaine asked, “Isn’t Bentley a famous brand too?”
Jacob Wilson scoffed, “Depends on what you compare it to. Against Mercedes or BMW, it’s the daddy, but against a Rolls-Royce, it’s a nobody.”
Whether intentional or not, Jacob Wilson’s voice was a bit loud, and the man overheard.
The man’s face darkened instantly. He glared at Jacob Wilson and sneered, “Bloody hell, the world’s full of all sorts. Taking a cheap sodding taxi and mocking someone’s Bentley? You’d think he owned a bloody Cullinan.”
Jacob Wilson, now riled up, pulled out his Cullinan key fob from his pocket, twirled it on his finger, and sighed, “Poor blokes like him, can’t afford one, so they assume no one else can. I keep a low profile, or I’d have driven my Cullinan to the airport too.”
The man recognised the Rolls-Royce key at once, and his face fell.
He sized up Jacob Wilson, thinking this old codger didn’t look like someone who could afford a Cullinan, nor did the young couple beside him seem particularly wealthy, though the young woman was strikingly beautiful, far outshining his newly-wed third-mistress-turned-wife.
So, he said to the woman beside him, “Darling, you wouldn’t believe how easy it is these days to get a fake luxury car key. Spend a few quid online, and you get a lighter that looks just like one. Flash it to show off, then light a cig in private.”
Jacob Wilson, amused and annoyed, broke the earlier dance of subtle jabs and handed over the key, saying, “Come on then, show me how this thing lights up. Honestly, I’ve had it a while and never knew it doubled as a lighter.”
