Summer's POV
The city was too loud.
Too fast.
Too full of people who didn't know they were walking in a war zone, completely oblivious to the tension bubbling just beneath the surface. I had finished a quick shoot, one Aiden didn't even know I slipped away for, and all I wanted now was to get back to the villa before someone else made a move.
I stood at the edge of the sidewalk, one hand in the air, trying to hail a cab. My phone buzzed in my pocket—probably Mariah wondering where I disappeared to—but I ignored it.
Just get home, Summer.
I adjusted my sunglasses, eyes darting down the street. A yellow cab slowed, saw someone else, and kept going.
"Seriously?" I muttered under my breath.
And then I heard it.
The low, unmistakable growl of a high-end engine purring too close for comfort.
I turned.
And there it was.
A sleek, black Lamborghini rolling up like it belonged on a damn movie set. Shiny. Sharp. Slow enough to draw attention.
It stopped right in front of me.
