God Of football - Chapter 550

Chapter 550: The Gemera.
The vehicle slowed to a smooth halt in front of the garage bay, hissed open, and Izan stepped out like nothing happened.

Not a bead of sweat.

Just a grin half-curled with mischief.

The assistant staggered out behind him, tablet now clutched like a crucifix.

His hair was ruffled, his face pale, and he didn’t say a word.

He just stared at Izan like he had been wronged by the latter.

Vittorio was already walking toward them, clapping slowly.

“How do you drive like that when you’re this young? Have you ever considered switching careers, Izan?” he said with a glint of amusement.

“F1 might have something to say.”

Izan wiped his hand across the back of his neck, chuckling.

“Only if they let me wear number 10 on the car.”

The assistant turned the tablet toward Vittorio.

Lap time: 1:27.432

Vittorio’s eyebrow lifted.

“That’s… two seconds faster than our in-house pro,” he said, blinking once.

Izan just shrugged.

“Guess I had a good co-pilot,” he said softly.

Inside his head, the system answered back.

[You should’ve taken that last apex cleaner.]

He smiled. “Next time.”

“Huh” Vittorio inquired but Izan just shook his head.

From the mezzanine, Miranda finally exhaled—deep, guttural, somewhere between relief and what the hell just happened.

Then she turned to Olivia and muttered, “If he ever asks for a motorcycle, the answer is no.”

Olivia grinned, brushing her hair back.

“Too late. He already wanted a bun and got it.”

And below, in the cooling air of the garage, Vittorio looked at Izan like a man re-evaluating everything.

“I think,” he said, “we’re going to have a very interesting conversation.”

Izan just slipped his gloves off and tossed them onto the seat.

“Yeah,” he said, brushing a lock of hair from his face.

“But maybe after I catch my breath.”

….

The chairs scraped softly as everyone stood.

Vittorio was the first to speak, sliding his palm across the surface of the polished table as if brushing away dust from the air between them.

“Well,” he said with an easy smile, “you’ve seen what we’re offering. No fuss. No bait and switch. We’re not asking him to sell his soul. Just… to drive. And to be who he already is.”

Miranda tapped the folder twice before sliding it into her bag.

“It’s a generous offer.”

He nodded.

“It’s a fair one. Koenigsegg doesn’t do crowd-chasing. We pick people. Thoughtfully.”

Izan leaned back a little, one hand still on his bottle of water.

“And I just keep being myself?”

“Exactly that,” Vittorio said.

“No press gauntlet. No showrooms. No hollow brand slogans. You drive what we give. You wear our emblem. You represent the power of precision.”

Miranda’s brow lifted.

“And he receives every new model?”

“As soon as they’re released. He’ll be among the first, if not the first, outside of the company. But we keep the cycle clean—every new car replaces the old. Unless, of course, he wants to keep them. In which case—”

“Half price,” Izan said, finishing it for him. “I read the fine print.”

Vittorio laughed.

“Then you read better than most athletes.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Izan said with a grin.

“I’m not in this for car collecting.”

Olivia stood quietly at his side, watching both of them with a half-smile.

“You say that,” she said, “but the moment you get behind the wheel, you forget you’re not.”

Vittorio pointed at her. “She gets it.”

Miranda zipped her bag closed and looked across the table at him.

“We’ll give you our answer by the end of the week. But I’ll say this—it’s been refreshing not to be talked at for once.”

“I know who I’m speaking to,” Vittorio replied.

“And I know who we’re asking for. Respect is implied.”

There was no smirk on his face.

Just assurance.

Then, as he turned and led them down the hallway, he slowed near a corner.

“Oh—before you leave,” he said, casual, hands tucked behind his back.

“There’s something I think you should see. Not part of the deal. Just… a little indulgence.”

Miranda raised an eyebrow, skeptical but intrigued.

Olivia shot Izan a glance, as if to ask do we follow this guy?—to which Izan only shrugged and offered a faint grin, already in step beside him.

The corridor was quiet.

Cool, subtly scented like polished carbon fiber and leather.

Every surface gleamed.

Every step echoed.

Then they turned a corner, and there it was.

A lone car sat under the overhead spotlight—curved, sharp, futuristic.

Gunmetal silver with ice blue accents that danced under the light.

Its lines looked sculpted by precision and arrogance in equal measure.

Izan whistled, slow and low.

“The Gemera,” Vittorio said, voice tinged with reverence.

“Our first four-seater, and soon to be our new standard-bearer.”

He circled the car with a hand out like a magician revealing his finale.

“This one is the first of the customer-spec batches. Official deliveries begin in a few weeks.” He paused, then looked at Izan.

“But this one,” he added, “has already been prepped for London. The CEO insisted it is done ahead of time.”

Miranda blinked.

“So, you had it shipped early?”

“He wanted it ready before we even had this meeting. Just in case.”

Olivia let out a quiet laugh.

“Nice move.”

Vittorio smiled.

“He said—and I quote—’Even if he doesn’t sign, give it to him.'”

He then turned back to Izan.

“The Gemera is yours. All we need is a signature or two—nothing binding you beyond good faith. If you don’t want to drive it under our banner? We won’t chase you.”

Izan stared at the car again.

The curves.

The roar was still trapped inside it.

Then he looked at Vittorio and grinned.

“You had me at ‘give it to him,'” he said, already rolling his sleeves up in a funny manner.

“Where do I sign? I’m not about to let politeness ruin my life.”

Laughter broke around the room.

And in the reflection of the Gemera’s tinted glass, a new chapter was already waiting.

…

The Gemara was still in the rearview when they slid back into the car.

The late afternoon sky had turned the clouds lavender, the London skyline soft in the distance as Miranda pulled onto the road.

No one spoke at first.

Olivia leaned her head against the window, sunglasses pushed to the top of her head, watching the blur of traffic and rooftops roll by.

Izan, in the back seat, still hadn’t put his phone down.

He’d taken about twelve photos of the Gemara, none of which did it justice.

Then Miranda, eyes forward, asked calmly, “So?”

Izan looked up, paused for a beat, then said, “If I didn’t have any self-control, I would’ve asked for a pen the moment he pulled the cover off that car.”

Miranda chuckled, tapping the wheel twice.

“Good,” she said. “Because I was about two seconds from doing exactly that.”

Olivia smirked. “You both sound like you just got proposed to.”

“Kind of feels like it,” Miranda said.

“Except instead of a ring, they offered him an engine that sounds like sin and thunder.”

Izan leaned forward between the seats, grin still lazy.

“And all I have to do is be myself?”

“Basically,” Miranda nodded.

“Just keep being the headline.”

They didn’t even wait to get home.

At a red light near Islington, Miranda reached for her phone.

“I’ll make the call now.”

“You serious?” Olivia asked.

Miranda raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve waited months to find a brand that isn’t trying to tame him. This one? They want the chaos.”

The call connected before the light turned green.

“Vittorio,” Miranda said, already smiling.

“We’re in. Get the paperwork ready. We’ll sign.”

From the other end came a quiet pause, and then—genuine delight.

“I’ll tell the team,” Vittorio replied.

“And the CEO will be… very pleased.”

Miranda ended the call just as the light changed.

She glanced at Izan through the rearview mirror.

“Guess we just bought ourselves a second home,” she said.

“In Sweden,” Izan added with a laugh.

“And made of carbon fiber,” Olivia quipped.

They drove on, the mood light and the deal sealed.

And in the space between the city noise and guttural revving of the monster of a machine they had left behind for a bit, a future that was worth looking forward to now loomed ahead.

And it was all Izan’s for the taking , whether he wanted it or not.

A/n: okay. Sorry for the delay with the chapters. This is the first of the day. All of you had a problem with the chapters not showing because of the privilege tiers. I released my stockpile at the month ended so I had to save another stockpile and that is the reason why chapters get withheld. It is going to be like for a couple more chapters so bear with me and I won’t make you wait long. Anyways, have fun reading and I hope this chapter met your expectations. Byeee