The Mafia's Bride
"Got it. Come on, perfect timing. The race is about to start."
As they walked toward the track, Carly took in the scene. Rows of exotic cars shimmered in the sun, their sleek curves catching light in brilliant reds, silvers, and deep blues. The grandstands buzzed with spectators in designer sunglasses, champagne flutes glinting. Wealth, speed, and danger hung thick in the air.
Giovanni's hand never left her waist. Even surrounded by people, he stayed close—protective, possessive, always calculating.
"You're casing the place," she murmured.