CHAPTER 6
ARIANA POV
The engine of the V8-770 purred with a deep, expensive frequency that vibrated right through the soles of my boots.
I eased the beast into the main flow of traffic, my hands light on the steering wheel as a soft grin cuts across my face.
"Damian..." I whispered, the name tasting like smoke and expensive whiskey.
I checked the rearview mirror, half-expecting to see a very angry man in a tailored suit sprinting after me.
But the street remained empty, the neon glow of the convenience store fading into a blur of pink and blue in the distance.
I scoffed, shaking my head. The guy was good—I had to give him that. He'd clocked my pulse, my posture, and a total identity overhaul in the span of thirty seconds.
Most men in Saacity were too busy looking at my chest or my hands to notice the way I breathed.
But Damian? He'd looked at me like he was reading a blueprint. And, God, he was infuriatingly attractive.
