n was on this bike when he met Brianna, and Brianna may or may not have stopped to listen to what Martin had to say because of that cool bi

choice. The tru

r fix. There's something about the rush she gets when the engine roars to life, something primal that gets under her skin and settles in her bones. The wind in

es. Selling her bike would give her enough money to help with her dad's medical bills. It's practical. Logical. But the thought of part

r head. Cara opens her leather jacket and throws it over her shoulder, struggling to wear it. It's small for her now, yet another thing s

her sights on her bike parked across the street. Her mind begins to wander, th

here, colliding with her precious motorcycle and sending it crashing to the g

d, peels off into the distance, leaving Cara to simmer in her own rage. The sound of tires

nding the pavement, fury surging through her veins. Her bike. Her freedom. It's ruined. She pushes past pedestri

d with a long, angry streak of silver. Cara runs her fingers over the damaged bike, her chest tightening with ev

bs the keys from her back pocket and revs the engine. The sound of the bike roaring to life is like a shot of adrena

blur of black leather and fury chasing after the m

ries to make sense of what just happened. It's his first day on the job. His first day as a p

plets on the way. He's only just gotten the job, and one mistak

sound casual. His voice cracks slightly,

hollow. He can feel Alexander's cold gaze burning into him from the back seat, even

Marco has heard the stories. Seen the headlines. Alexander is a business mogul, ruthless, calculatin

s. He sits in the back of the car, his eyes glued to his phone sc

e beams up at him in photo after photo, all sweetness and light. But Marco can tell, from the way

ar his gaze away, no matter how hard he tries. His fingers hover over the screen, scrolling through the

ander knows that he could crush her, use his power to destroy her reputat

k. He's not sure what. It m

» Marco's voice shakes as he glances a

in the mess of his past and present. The paparazzi are waiting. The cameras are ready to snap. He's dreadin

are. At leas

ress already beginning to gather. Alexander tightens his grip on