Isla sat in the passenger seat of Rowan’s sleek black car, the engine humming low as they sped through the quiet night streets. Streetlights flashed across her face every few seconds. She couldn’t stop glancing at him—his sharp jawline, the way his dark hair fell slightly over his forehead, the calm confidence in the way he held the wheel.
Rowan noticed. Of course he did.
“I know I’m hot,” he said with a smirk, eyes still on the road, “but staring for too long is creepy.”
Isla’s cheeks heated. She quickly turned her head to look out the window, pretending to study the passing buildings.
After a beat of silence, curiosity won out.
“I’m curious,” she said softly. “How could you hear me calling for help? I didn’t even say your name out loud.”
Rowan’s foot pressed harder on the gas. The
