KARIMA HEART
The moment we reached the garage, he yanked the garage shutter up, and my heart nearly leapt out of my chest.
The car was insane. Jet-black, sleek, the kind of BMW that looked untouchable. And bigger than Malcom’s. When Owain tapped the pedal, the engine growled deadly. It was like the sound alone could turn heads. He caught my expression, of course he did, and I couldn’t tell if he was showing off on purpose or just being Owain, irritating and smug.
I kept my mouth shut, but seriously, how the hell did he own something like this? He’d barely been in New York a week. And now that I thought about it, I’d never even bothered to ask what he actually did for a living. Malcom once said “business development representative,” but… please. Owain? In a suit, making polite small talk
