Page 91 of Cruel Deception
I walked off, feeling his presence trailing behind me, but I wasn’t afraid. Maybe it was the crowd, swarming and chaotic. Maybe it was the guards posted at every angle, guns strapped to their sides. Or maybe... maybe it was the fact that I now wore Cassian Moretti’s name like armor.
I didn’t want Luca sitting beside me, so I slipped between two broad-shouldered men in the stands, claiming the empty seat between them. Neither of them looked at me. Good.
“Lucky me,” came Luca’s voice, too close. “I found a seat right behind you.”
I felt his breath graze my neck and clenched my fists. Even his air felt dirty.
I didn’t reply. I scanned the players instead—and there he was.
Cassian.
He stood beside Sophia, hands on the handlebars, helmet glinting under the lights. A storm made of leather and chrome. Marco, his opponent, stood across from him, just as poised.
Please win, I begged silently.Please.
Behind me, Luca’s voice oozed into my ear again. “He won’t win. Not tonight.”
I ignored him.
“Whatever pride he has left, he’s about to lose. You think he’s won these last two years just because he’s that good? No. It’s Sophia. That bike is a custom build. Worth more than the most expensive car in the world.”
My eyes widened. More expensive than any car?
I’d stolen that bike. I rode it once. He could’ve killed me. But he didn’t.
Why?
I turned to glare at Luca. “You’re the one who stole Sophia from my grandfather’s house and pretended to ‘find’ it, right? Just to lure me into your estate?”
He grinned like the rat he was. “Technically, no. Your father brought it to me.” His lips curled. “Big mistake giving it back to Cassian. Without Sophia, he wouldn’t even be in this round.”
I turned away. Back to Cassian.
He was mounting Sophia now. Helmet on. Visor down.
Marco was already revving his engine.
Luca leaned forward. “I spent a fortune on Marco’s bike. He’ll win.”
“Can you shut the fuck up?” I snapped, spinning to face him so everyone nearby could hear.
The man on my left turned. “Leave her alone.”
“Mind your fucking business,” Luca growled.
The man raised an eyebrow but turned back to the track.
Then the man on my right spoke without looking at Luca. “You know the rules here. No harassing spectators. If she doesn’t want to talk to you, don’t.”
Luca went silent.
I blinked, glancing between the two men beside me. For mafia men, they were... decent. Or at least, decent enough not to let scum like Luca bother a woman in public.
Just then—BANG!
A single, sharp gunshot echoed through the arena.
The race had begun.
