Peter Miles Ford V Ferrari Novels & Stories

Just as Andrew got out of his car, the sound of another vehicle could be heard. This time, the sound of a rather noisy vehicle came from a red Ferrari 488 Pista traveling at a fairly high speed from the entrance. A sports car that can reach speeds of 100 kilometers per hour in just 2.85 seconds and has a maximum speed of up to 340 kilometers per hour. If you want to have it, at least you have to spend around 1,107,600.31 USD. It didn't take long for Damien to guess who was driving the car.

Fernando was mysterious. That was the story his ears were filled with by Marino as they drove to the party venue. The wide double doors to the villa were wide open and one could see the inside from the outside clearly. There was already a crowd, its buzzing could be heard even from outside. He made sure to pass the entrance with his 2010 Ferrari 458 italia, his pride, knowing it would gain him the attention he sought and then he circled around and drove past again until he found a good parking spot.

was, in fact, an absurdly lethal hand-to-hand combat machine. In that very moment of post-fight tension, the aggressive roar of a V8 engine broke the silence of the street. A gleaming black Ferrari cut across the road, stopped abruptly near the sidewalk, and blocked the way. The doors swung open like bat wings, and an imposing figure stepped out of the passenger seat, surrounded by private security guards. Dressed in a dark, custom-made Giorgio Armani suit, with a stubbed-out cigar in his hand and arrogance exuding from every pore, stood Pedro Rodrigues, the family patriarch.

40… 60... 80... 100. No, these were not the first, few attempts of a child or reminiscent adult at recapping all the multiples of 20; they were the sporadically rising miles per hour readings of the grey 1967 Maserati Ghibli, being driven by Giovanni Colpani, which was speeding down the road on a highway at a far end of the city, the part of town that 'belonged to' and was run by the Italian crime organization known as the Uomini Marrone.

I did if I wanted to brag to the bitches I brought home. “Okay.” He walked ahead of me without another word. Then we got to an empty spot. The 1960 Ferrari 250 GTO was gone. Thank you, Jesus. “What car is supposed to be here?” Roland asked. “My Ferrari,” I replied. “Regular or classic?” “Regular. Why'd you ask?” It was Matthew's turn to ask. This time he took a squatting position and gestured to Roland. Roland whipped out the picture and passed it to him. Just then, I was ready to run.

No matter how bad it was, it was still a Ferrari. After he bought the food, he went to the petrol station to refill the petrol. While he planned to leave, a silvery-white sedan drove over. The driver was a 25-year-old young woman. Her long hair was black and shiny, and her white shirt was clean. There was a little black mole at the bottom of her left eye. This woman was Maya Barlow, Edith’s eldest daughter and also the manager of Fire Crown Motorcade. After Maya saw the 458, she was a little stunned. She remembered that it was Larry’s car. Was it put aside in the camp for a year?

Her very presence should be nothing short of psychological torture to him. Although he did not know Yvonne's intentions, Elio approached the car anyway. The Ferrari held all of his attention right now. Before he turned fifteen, Elio had owned countless sports cars. He had Lamborghinis, Aston Martins, and so on. He had practically every limited edition car from around the world, and he had any Ferrari he could want. Now that his family's restrictions had finally been lifted, he really missed the time when he could drive a sports car on the streets, back when he was still young and proud.

he said, smiling and flashing the yellow teeth at me. Yeah, it's great to see me because I always give you generous tips, I thought to myself and stepped out of my red Ferrari 2021 SF90 Stradale/Spider. "Key is in there," I said, tossing a bunch of roll-up fifty-dollar bills that I always have my secretary put in the car for me.

"Fine.., Non sai cosa mi fai donna." "Thank you," I said as I leaned in to peck his cheek. My excitement was over the next level. Sin stood up from his seat, and I followed him. He opened a door leading to a parking lot filled with a lot of expensive cars like the Bugatti La Voiture Noire, Rolls-Royce Sweptail, Koenigsegg CCXR Trevita (2006 model), Lamborghini Veneno Roadster, McLaren P1 LM, Lykan Hypersport, Bugatti Veron Mansory Vivere LE, and Aston Martin Valkyrie Ferrari. Pininfarina, Sergio; Pagani Huayra BC. My eyes caught sight of a very beautiful leather Sheene bike, and I walked towards it in awe.

Jeremy didn’t linger after storming out of the boardroom. He bolted for the private garage under Cali Solar, boots hammering the concrete, fury driving every step. His two Italian beasts waited there—prized machines parked like royalty: a Ferrari 812 Superfast, red as spilled blood, and a Lamborghini Aventador, black as midnight.