If Jasper wasn't mistaken, there weren't even three of these cars in the entire country. This one was a custom build; it meant the owner had more than just money. He was at the very top of the pack's food chain.
Someone like that was definitely no Uber driver.
Jasper knew he had no shot with Freya. Still, it made sense. A young, talented artist like Freya would naturally run in these circles; billionaires always bought art just to prove they had taste.
Freya saw the look on his face; she shook her head. "I'm fine, Jasper. Go back to dinner. I have to go."
Without waiting for his response, she immediately hailed a taxi, gave the address of her newly rented apartment, and the car drove away, leaving behind a trail of dust...
Back home, Freya scrubbed her skin in the shower,
