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Marcus Ashford didn't do second place. Not in business, not in life, and definitely not at auction houses where automotive legends went to find new homes. So when the 1967 Ferrari 275 GTB/4, his white whale, his obsession, the car he'd been hunting for three years, sold to "Bidder 47" for a cool $3.2 million, he felt something crack in his chest that had nothing to do with heartbreak.
Except it absolutely did.
Because Bidder 47 turned out to be Damian Cross, tech entrepreneur, fellow collector, and the only man who'd ever made Marcus forget about horsepower while discussing torque curves.
The Rivalry That Wasn't
They'd first met at Pebble Beach two years ago. Marcus had been admiring a pristine Bugatti Type 57SC Atlantic when someone beside him murmured, "Beautiful lines, but the Delahaye 165 Cabriolet three rows down has better bones."
Marcus turned to tell this obvious amateur exactly where he could shove his opinion, and found himself staring into eyes the color of expensive whiskey. Damian wore a charcoal suit that probably cost more than most people's cars, and a smile that suggested he knew exactly what effect he had on people.
"You're wrong," Marcus said, because he was competitive and also because agreeing would mean the conversation ended.
"Prove it," Damian replied.
They spent the next four hours arguing about coachwork, provenance, and whether originality or restoration mattered more for preservation. By the time the sun set over the Pacific, Marcus had forgotten he was supposed to network with potential investors. He'd also forgotten that he didn't believe in love at first sight.
He definitely didn't believe in love at first automotive debate.
The Game Within the Game
After Pebble Beach, they kept running into each other. Monaco Historic Grand Prix. Goodwood Revival. That private viewing in Geneva where a Saudi prince was liquidating half his collection. Every time, they'd bid against each other, drive up prices, and then end up at the same after-party, drinking champagne that cost more per bottle than a new Lexus.
"You're doing this on purpose," Marcus accused at Villa d'Este, after Damian outbid him on a Maserati 450S.
"Doing what?" Damian's expression was pure innocence, which meant he was absolutely guilty.
"Showing up wherever I am. Bidding on cars you don't even want."
"Who says I don't want them?" Damian stepped closer, and Marcus caught his cologne, something woody and expensive that probably had a waiting list. "Maybe I want them because you want them."
Marcus's heart did something complicated in his chest. "That's the most inefficient way to build a collection I've ever heard."
"Who says I'm building a collection?" Damian's voice dropped lower. "Maybe I'm building something else entirely."
The Ferrari Incident
Which brought them to the Ferrari. The 275 GTB/4 in Rosso Corsa with the original Borrani wire wheels and documentation proving it had been owned by a member of Italian racing royalty. Marcus had been tracking this car through private sales and whispered rumors for three years. He'd prepared a business plan, secured financing, and had his restoration team on standby.
Then Damian bought it out from under him.
Marcus found him in the parking garage afterward, leaning against a silver Koenigsegg like he belonged in a fashion spread about unreasonably attractive men who ruined your life.
"Congratulations," Marcus said, managing to make the word sound like a curse.
"Thank you." Damian didn't even have the decency to look smug. He looked… nervous? "Listen, Marcus: "
"Save it. You won. Again." Marcus turned to leave, because if he stayed one more second, he'd do something stupid like kiss that apologetic expression right off Damian's face.
"It's for you."
Marcus froze. "What?"
"The Ferrari." Damian pushed off the Koenigsegg, reaching into his jacket and pulling out a small velvet box. "I bought it for you."
The world tilted sideways. Inside the box wasn't a key: those were being delivered with the car: but a diamond tie pin shaped like a Ferrari prancing horse. Platinum and diamonds that caught the fluorescent garage lighting and turned it into something magical.
"I don't understand," Marcus said, which was an understatement.
"Marcus, I've spent two years chasing you across three continents and buying cars I don't need because you're the most infuriating, brilliant, passionate man I've ever met." Damian took a breath. "And somewhere between arguing about pre-war Alfa Romeos and that night in Monaco when you explained the entire history of Le Mans while slightly drunk on Moët, I fell completely in love with you."
Shifting Gears
The smart thing would have been to think about it. To consider the logistics, the complications, the fact that combining two major collections would be a curatorial nightmare. To remember that Marcus Ashford didn't do emotional vulnerability any better than he did second place.
Instead, Marcus kissed him.
Right there in a parking garage that smelled like rubber and money, surrounded by millions of dollars worth of automotive history, Marcus kissed Damian Cross like he was the finish line to a race he hadn't known he was running.
When they finally came up for air, Damian was smiling. "Does this mean you'll accept the car?"
"Absolutely not," Marcus said. "We'll co-own it. Joint custody. I get weekends and you get weekdays."
"That's not how car ownership works."
"It is now." Marcus straightened Damian's tie, which had gotten rumpled during the kiss. "Also, we're dating now. Fair warning: I'm extremely competitive."
"I've noticed," Damian said dryly. "What else should I know?"
"I still think you're wrong about the Delahaye."
"I'm definitely not."
"Want to go back to my place and argue about it?" Marcus grinned. "I have a 1956 Mercedes-Benz 300SL Gullwing in my garage that would be a much more productive use of our time."
"Are you trying to seduce me with vintage automobiles?"
"Is it working?"
Damian kissed him again, softer this time. "It's been working for two years. I just thought you'd never notice."
The Collection Continues
Six months later, Marcus and Damian opened their first joint exhibition: "Rivals to Lovers: A Collection." The Ferrari 275 GTB/4 took center stage, flanked by every car they'd battled over during their two-year courtship. The invitation was embossed gold on black card stock, and Marcus wore the diamond Ferrari pin on his lapel.
They still argued about provenance and restoration philosophy. They still bid against each other sometimes, just for the thrill of it. But now when the auctions ended and the champagne started flowing, they left together in whatever ridiculous car Damian had driven that day.
Because Marcus had finally learned something more important than winning: sometimes the best prize isn't crossing the finish line first. Sometimes it's finding someone who makes you want to stay in the race forever.
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