Her pov.

Mierda. I’m back to racing again, because I physically, mentally, spiritually can’t stay away from it. This shit being illegal?— adds to the thrill. I’m a hoe for adrenaline, so there’s nothing better than racing in my opinion. Though, I just got into an arranged marriage, I promised myself I’d stop myself— only myself. That I’ll stop.

But hey, things happen? And I’m back in to my shit again. Now, i’m there. I’ve never lost a race before, and I intend to keep it that way. So we’re racing—illegaly.

His pov.

Racing? I visibly frown because what the hell. It hits me, I may have missed racing. But being a mafia boss gives me no time to do that shit. Then I hear from my men, that she’s being chased. I’m in my car, don’t ask me how fast did I do that—because I don’t fricking understand myself.

I’m driving to the location they sent me, fast and fast. But first of fucking all. How did she get into that situation. Why are there people following her? Oop- scratch that. I’m a mafia boss, they’ll want to use her as bait.

I’m there, I see her, and she’s driving so fast. And I’m wondering how she has control of the car even? Is that her? Oh, it is.

I’m beside her and she looks at me with widened eyes, like she’s mad? Oh, I’m about to kill her if what I think is right.

"What the hell are you doing?"

I yell, I can’t control myself, she gets on my nerves, in the best and worst ways possible.

She tells me to get off the road when I was about to shoot the other cars down, I look at her in disbelief, but she wants me to trust her. I drift out of the way. And I’m basically raging, just basically.