INICIAR SESIÓNElena’s POVI looked down despite myself, and that’s when I saw them. His six-pack was outlined with insulting clarity under his tight t-shirt. You could see every muscle move with the rhythm of his breathing—a piece of precision machinery radiating the scent of leather, rubber, and skin heated by adrenaline. It was a flat-out insult to my self-control.Renzo let out a muffled laugh, rolling his nicotine gum between his teeth."So, Parisian? Are you taking inventory, or do you want me to sign an autograph on my abs for you?"I felt the blood rush to my cheeks instantly. I looked away, furious at having been caught like a total amateur, and spat back:"You’ve got a hell of a nerve, Moretti. Where do you think you are?"I didn't wait for an answer and bolted into the restaurant. He was right on my heels, with his usual arrogance:"It’s not my fault your eyes wander, Elena. You have to admit you’re a bit of a gawker sometimes. It’s okay, it’s a relief to be honest about it."I stopped de
Elena’s POVThe kid shot a fleeting glance at Renzo, then practically vaulted off his seat as if he’d sat on a hot radiator."Uh, no, sorry! I... I don't know how to ride double. Too risky. Go with the boss."Before I could even protest, the whole gang had roared off in a deafening racket.Renzo smirked. He went to grab a black bike leaning in the corner, brought it to life with a fierce kickstart, and pulled up right in front of me."Well? Are you hitchhiking or getting on?" he asked, holding out a helmet.I snatched it from his hands and shoved it onto my head."I knew this night was going to be a disaster. If Ace didn't show up, it’s definitely because you’re a jinx."Renzo paused. He cocked an eyebrow, looking amused."Oh... so you were actually here to see the Ace?""Obviously. What did you think? That I drove all this way for your benefit? And what are you doing here without a car? Is your friend Blondie a pro racer or something?"He reached out to adjust my helmet, which was si
Elena’s POVStanding next to Renzo was a guy who looked about his age. He had a messy shock of hair, a pale complexion, and a total "baby-face"—the kind of look that hides a lot more than it lets on. He was staring at me with a crooked little smirk, clearly finding the whole situation very entertaining."Oh my God!" Chloé shrieked. "You’re Vent! The rider who just swept the pot!""Guilty," he replied.Then, he turned to Renzo with a curious look."Tell me, Moretti... who’s the lady?"Renzo spat out his lollipop stick with a nonchalant flick."Who do you think? It’s the famous 'Parisian' who’s costing me a small fortune in headaches."I felt my temper flare instantly."Excuse me? Your 'piece of junk' hasn't cost you a cent so far. On the other hand, I'm still waiting to hear how you plan on coughing up for my physical therapy bills and the emotional trauma.""A... piece of junk?"Vent and the little blonde kid stood there like they’d been slapped. They exchanged a look of total, utter
Elena’s POVI’d barely finished my sentence when the girl to my right—wearing a top that was staying up by some kind of miracle—turned to me with wide, sparkling eyes."Don't worry, gorgeous, you’re not the only one. I bet half the girls here would sell their own mothers for an hour with him. Did you see that build? The guy is pure magnetism—a total trouble magnet.""Honestly, if Ace asked me to hop on the back, I wouldn't even have to think about it," another girl added with a sigh. "He’s the ultimate local fantasy."Chloé leaned toward me, whispering:"You're getting ahead of yourself. We don't even know what he looks like under that helmet. Imagine if he takes it off and he’s some fifty-year-old creep?"I smiled, my eyes locked on the dark shadow in the distance. He was talking to one of the organizers, then he hopped back onto his electric scooter. He snapped his visor down with a sharp flick, leaning slightly forward. Ready to pounce."Even from behind, the guy has insane style.
Elena’s POVMy ankle finally decided to leave me in peace after a few days. I could finally walk without looking like a pirate with a wooden leg.That’s when Renzo resurfaced via text. He told me the mechanics were done, but the bodywork had taken a real beating. The paint was so trashed he had to send it to a specialist for a proper touch-up. He was asking for the address.I replied immediately. He followed up without missing a beat:— So, Parisian, you back on your feet? Feel like coming by to see the result?I declined instantly, no hesitation:— Absolutely not. Every time I cross paths with you, I end up in the ER. Just give me my car back, and get your checkbook ready: we’re going to discuss my medical bills and damages.— Hello? I can’t hear anything... bad reception in the garage... hanging up now!And the asshole cut the line. Just like that. I’m usually a fairly level-headed person, but this man is a catalyst for my nerves. He knows exactly which buttons to push to make me lo
Adrien’s POVI ended up massaging her ankle on the edge of the mattress with a level of saintly patience I didn't know I possessed. Elena, meanwhile, had cocooned herself in the duvet like a temperamental child. Between a few performative groans of pain, she shot me dark looks—like a moody kitten being forced to take its medicine."It wasn't intentional," I finally said, my voice sounding a bit frayed."Right... If you hadn't insisted on a round two, we wouldn't be in this mess."I stifled a sigh. It was true; I’d lost the thread. In the heat of the moment, my medical instincts had gone out the window, and I’d completely forgotten that her ankle wasn't back in working order yet. Now, she was sulking, locked under her covers, and wanted nothing to do with me."Elena, be serious. I tried to be gentle, but you’re not exactly the type to make restraint easy. We aren't robots."She scurried to the very edge of the bed, silent. I watched her for a moment, feeling a bit defeated."Honestly,







