ISABELLA
The night air hit me as I stepped outside—sharp and freezing. I tightened my coat around me, exhaling a cloud of breath into the cold. London was still alive in its own way—neon signs flickering in the distance, the muffled hum of traffic threading through the silence.
never seemed rushed or out of place. He carried time differently—as if it bent around him rather than the other way around—except when a race was involved. I suppose that was just a trait of the wealthy.
“The hotel isn’t close,” he said, his voice smooth and unhurried. “The driver left the car at the lot. I can take you back, or you can get a taxi. The fare will be reimbursed.”
Then he regarded me silently. “It’s your choice, Isabella.”
I tilted my head slightly, considering. His tone was neutral, his posture
