Across the city,in one of the most expensive exotic penthouse Isabella Sinclair scrubbed her mouth like she could erase the memory.
She stared at her reflection in the penthouse bathroom mirror, eyes bright with anger at him, at herself, at the way her heart had betrayed her common sense.
She hated Rafael Moretti.
Hated his arrogance, His tattooes, the way he looked at her like he saw through silk and privilege straight to something raw underneath.
And yet—
Her phone buzzed.
Lena: Hey girl what's up! Didn't see you when you left.
Isabella groaned and dropped onto the edge of the tub.
Isabella: I should have told you, I had to leave early.
Lena: Is something wrong ? Babe talk to me.
Silence.
Then—
Isabella:nothing is wrong, ok😊
A lie she told herself it's what's best.
She pressed her fingers to her lips, pulse racing. She'd spent her life being controlled by her father's expectations, by her family name, by society's rules.
Rafe didn't belong in her world.
And that was exactly why he felt dangerous.
She will make sure this never happens again, and keep her distance, her best friends happiness matters to her.
The warehouse on Kingsbridge filled fast.
Rafe stood at the center, leather jacket off, tattoos bare under flickering lights.
Jax leaned against a crate, calm and calculating Malik paced, restless Theo watched the exits.
"This isn't school," Malik muttered. "This is war."
Rafe nodded. "The Vipers want our routes. If they take Kingsbridge, they push into Harlem next."
Jax straightened. "Kane's testing you."
"Let him," Rafe said coldly. "I don't lose."
Theo spoke quietly. "You're distracted."
Rafe's gaze snapped to him.
Theo didn't flinch. "That Sinclair girl."
Malik whistled. "Damn you kissed Manhattan royalty?" I saw you, does Lena know?
Rafe's voice dropped. "It doesn't matter."
But it did.
Because Kane would use anything.
Because Isabella Sinclair wasn't just a girl she was leverage.
Isabella Sinclair learned the art of pretending early, pretending she wasn't angry when her father canceled plans for work.
Pretending she wasn't lonely in rooms full of people.
Pretending rules didn't feel like cages.
But this—this was harder.
She sat in the back seat of her Bugatti, hands folded neatly in her lap, nails biting into her palm as the city slid past the tinted windows.
Every bump in the road echoed the same thought she refused to finish.
I kissed my best friend's boyfriend.
The words tasted poisonous.
She squeezed her eyes shut, It had been a mistake, alcohol, music heat. Nothing more. She didn't want him didn't even like him.
So why did her lips still burn?
At St. Aldrich Academy, marble floors gleamed and voices echoed with careless laughter. Isabella stepped out of the car, posture perfect, expression calm—every inch the Sinclair heiress.
She spotted Lena immediately Lena waved, smiling wide, utterly unaware.
Guilt struck like a blade.
"Bella!" Lena looped her arm through hers. "You disappeared last night. I was worried."
Isabella forced a smile. "I wasn't feeling well."
A lie. Another one.
"And Rafe—" Lena continued brightly. "He left early too. Probably street stuff."
Isabella's chest tightened. "You… didn't see him after?"
Lena shook her head. "No. Why?"
"No reason," Isabella said quickly. Too quickly.
Across the courtyard, a motorcycle engine roared to life.
Isabella didn't look.
She didn't have to.
She felt him.
Rafe stood near the gates, helmet tucked under his arm, tattoos dark against his rolled sleeves. He was laughing with Jax, but the sound died the second his eyes found her.
The world narrowed.
Not anger Not desire.
Something worse.
Regret.
Their gazes locked, and for a heartbeat, everything unsaid pressed between them—his mouth on hers, her fingers in his shirt, the way he'd frozen before giving in.
Then Lena leaned toward Isabella and whispered, "Isn't he impossible?"
Isabella swallowed. "You deserve better."
Lena laughed. "Everyone says that. But he's good to me."
The words crushed her.
Rafe looked away first.
Rafael Moretti didn't believe in guilt.
The streets didn't allow it. Guilt slowed you down, got people hurt.
But today, it clung to him like smoke.
He rode hard through Kingsbridge, the Ducati snarling beneath him, but no amount of speed could drown out the memory of Isabella's breath hitching, the way she'd kissed him like she didn't know how to stop herself.
He shouldn't have let it happen but a part of him would do it again. If given the chance, he couldn't deny the attraction he felt.
But lena trusted him, he isn't in love him with her as he isn't capable of loving someone, so he claims, but he can't explain these new found feelings for Isabella.
And Isabella Sinclair—
she was never supposed to matter, but she was slowly filling his mind.