Urban Harem God: Harem With My Ultimate Copy & Paste System!-Chapter 21: Jayden Meets His Green Goddess

Jayden didn't give a single damn about dealership etiquette, sales protocols, or whatever unspoken rulebook these people secretly worshipped. Smile. Nod. Ask questions you already know the answer to. Act like you don't belong but are trying hard to.

Nah. Fuck that.

He wasn't here to pretend he was some polite, humble little boy who lucked his way into money. He was money. Power. Proof. This place should be thanking him for the honor of his presence.

The consultant kept that fake-ass smile on as he turned and motioned Jayden to follow. "Right this way, sir."

Jayden moved like a shadow—quiet, cocky, slow on purpose. He didn't walk. He glided like he owned this bitch and just came to pick up his prize.

They stopped in front of a separate section of the showroom—cleaner, quieter, more expensive. Five cars lined up like models at a damn pageant, each one a mechanical beast with its own seductive personality. Sleek whites, murdered-out blacks, metallic reds so deep they looked like they bled. Each one whispered, Pick me. I'm danger in leather.

But then... her.

Jayden's eyes locked on the green monster at the far end.

Porsche 918 Spyder.

Lime venom, pure power, and sex on wheels. The reason he walked through those doors in the first place.

He didn't rush. He strolled closer like she was a wild thing that might run. One hand came out, fingers brushing along the curves of the hood like he was touching something sacred.

Everything else? Gone.

The cars. The noise. The world.

Just him and her.

He walked around her like he was circling a goddess, jaw slightly clenched, pupils dilated, lips parted like he was about to whisper a prayer. His fingers never left her. From the sleek contour of her front lip to the aerodynamic thighs she flexed near the wheel wells—she was perfect.

The consultant stepped back, wisely catching the vibe. Left without a word. Came back moments later with the key fob in hand like it was an offering to a god.

Click.

The green goddess woke up.

Lights flickered to life. That smooth hum bloomed like a purr soaked in danger. And the door? Oh, baby—the door didn't open. It ascended, lifting like a phoenix unfolding her wings mid-flight.

Jayden grinned like a man freshly in love and dangerously unhinged.

The consultant stepped forward, clearing his throat gently. "This is the Porsche 918 Spyder. And I—"

"—know it's a plug-in hybrid with a naturally aspirated 4.6L V8 and two electric motors pushing 887 horsepower. 944 lb-ft of torque. 0 to 60 in two fucking seconds, top speed at 214 mph, and she handles like she's cheating physics," Jayden said without looking at him, already inside the car like he belonged there.

He ran his fingers over the green interior, muttering, "Ciel vert... bon dieu, she's flawless."

Then, his hand slid to the steering wheel. He gripped it like it was a weapon.

"This... right here, mon frère? This is where war starts. Right here, where you grip the wheel like you're choking life into it. It's not a car. It's a statement that says move, whore, I'm faster than your entire bloodline."

He tapped the accelerator gently—just once.

The rev roared.

Jayden moaned. Like, actually moaned. "Shiiiiiit. That's better than sex. Maybe not with the right person... but close."

The consultant blinked. Just stood there like someone watching God descend on four wheels.

Jayden kept going—pointing out specs, inspecting the carbon-fiber body, lifting the panel to admire the hybrid system, even noting the special ceramic brakes like a damn engineer who moonlighted as a street racer.

"Guess I read the manual before I got the car, huh?" he said, giving the consultant a wink.

The guy smiled, softly. "It seems like sir is really a Porsche lover."

Jayden leaned back in the seat, crossed one leg, and gave a satisfied sigh. "No, man. I'm not just a lover. I'm a simp. A full-blown green-worshipping simp. This? This is my goddess. She talks in revs and smells like adrenaline."

Then, dead serious, he looked up.

"I'm taking her home. Wrap her up. Actually—fuck that. I'm driving her out."

The man stood a few respectful feet away, watching Jayden vibe with the 918 like the car had whispered sweet nothings into his soul. And maybe it had.

With a soft smile, he said, "There's one more thing, sir. This particular model is customized—"

Jayden didn't even blink. "Figured."

He leaned back into the plush green seat like he'd owned it since birth, his fingers drumming on the steering wheel like a bored drummer mid-rehearsal. He hadn't sat in many 918s—hell, this was his first time in one—but his senses? They were sharper than regret after drunk texting an ex. Something about her was different.

"Didn't wanna say it out loud, but yeah. She's too spicy to be stock. There's more to this story, isn't there?" he muttered, almost teasing.

The consultant nodded slowly. "You're right. A client ordered it with specific upgrades, custom interiors, power mods, aesthetic tweaks—the full nine yards. But... just before delivery, they changed their mind. Said they didn't want it anymore."

Jayden raised an eyebrow. "Huh. So you're telling me some rich asshole paid extra to have her souped-up like a damn Bond car, then ghosted her before prom night?" He snorted. "Cold world."

The man smiled again, patient, polished. "And so—"

"Yeah, yeah, skip the soap opera," Jayden cut in, waving a dismissive hand. "Not here her heartbreak backstory. I care more about what she's packin' than who bailed on her."

There was no offense taken. The man chuckled softly and nodded.

"Understood. Well... aside from the custom paint and exclusive green interior, this particular Spyder was upgraded with a reworked hybrid system. Boosted torque. She hits 100 kph even quicker than standard—1.9 seconds, not 2.1. Ceramic brakes are advanced-gen, not factory issue. They cool faster, stop sharper."

Jayden's eyes narrowed in delight, a grin creeping across his lips like sin.

"Oh? So she bites harder and stops on a dime? Mon dieu, she's a tease and a killer. I like that."

"She also has a recalibrated suspension, adaptive aero tech—automatically adjusts to your driving patterns, even learns your preferences. And the seats? Heated and cooling, custom stitched with reinforced support. Good for long rides."

Jayden tilted his head, amused. "Mmm. So she's high-maintenance and loyal. Better than most relationships these days."

The man kept talking, listing off tweaks: reinforced carbon frame, sound system straight outta a music producer's wet dream, HUD reprogrammed for more real-time telemetry, and even biometric sensors in the wheel and pedals.

Jayden just kept nodding like he was at church and every word was gospel. "So what I'm hearing is... she's not just custom. She's tailored. Damn near clairvoyant. She wants me to drive her like I'm committing sins." freeωebnovēl.c૦m

He looked down at the gear shift, then back at the man with a smirk that could've melted the damn tiles. "This baby's been rejected once, huh?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well," he said, cracking his neck, "lucky for her, I've got abandonment issues and a thing for broken legends. I'm gonna treat her right... or ruin her trying."

****

[Ding! Earned $3,000,000 With 10x Copy and Paste!]