Chapter 2 Adeline
Adeline POV
I enter her apartment without knocking.
Mom is standing in the middle of her living room when I walk in. I freeze immediately when I see her because she looks... different. Her hair is professionally styled, not the usual messy bun, and she's wearing a dress. An actual dress, not the yoga pants and tank top combo that she wears every day.
She smiles sweetly.
"Adeline! You came!" She rushes over like she's about to hug me, then seems to remember we don't do that anymore. Her arm drops awkwardly to her side. "I'm so glad you're here. Sit down, sweetheart. I have incredible news."
"Mom, what's going on?" I remain standing, my keys dangling in my hand. "You never call me like that unless…"
"I'm getting married!" She squealed.
The words hit me like a physical blow. I take a step back.
"You're... what?"
"Getting married!" She's practically bouncing now, holding out her left hand. There's a ring on it—a massive diamond that probably cost more than my entire college education. "Richard proposed last week! Can you believe it?"
I stare at the ring. At her face. At the genuine happiness radiating from her like she's won the lottery.
"This is a joke, right?" My voice is flat. "You're joking."
"Of course I'm not joking!" Her smile breaks slightly. "Addie, this is real. Richard is real. We're getting married in the spring, and…"
"Who the hell is Richard?" I cut her off. "How long have you even known this guy? Three months? Four?"
"Six months." She lifts her chin defensively. "And before you say anything, this is different. He is different."
"They're always different, Mom." I say, bitterly. "That's what you said about Marcus. And Jonathan. And that asshole Kevin who stole your credit cards."
"Richard Akilov is nothing like them!" Her voice rises. "He's a successful businessman, Adeline. He owns properties all over the world. He's generous and kind, and he actually wants to take care of me."
"You mean he is rich." I laugh, but there's no humor in it. "Geez, Mom. You're really doing this? You're actually marrying some guy for his money? I thought you only dated them and came back broken for me to fix."
Her face hardens. "Don't you dare judge me. You have no idea what it's been like, struggling all these years, trying to keep us afloat."
"Us?" I exploded. "There hasn't been an 'us' since I was twelve years old! You checked out, Mom. You chose your boyfriends over me every single time!"
"I did what I had to do to survive!" She's yelling now too. "And maybe if you could just…"
The words hang in the air between us like poison.
"There it is." My voice drops to something cold and dangerous. "You blame me. You've always blamed me."
"I didn't say that."
"You didn't have to." I turn toward the door. "Congratulations on the wedding, Mom. I hope he's worth it."
"Wait!" She grabs my arm. "Richard wants to meet you. We are spending Christmas at his private island for two weeks, just the four of us. It'll be wonderful, Addie. A real family vacation."
"Four of us?" I yank my arm free. "Who's the fourth?"
"Richard's son. Percy. He's around your age, actually. Twenty-eight, I think. Richard adopted him when he was young…"
"No." The word comes out sharp and final. "Absolutely not."
"Adeline…"
"I'm not playing happy family with you and some rich guy and his son! I have an internship starting in January. I have my own life."
"Two weeks, Adeline! That's all I'm asking!" Her voice cracks. "Please. For once in your life, can you just support me? Can you just be happy for me?"
"Happy?" I stare at her. "You want me to be happy that you're marrying a stranger and dragging me to some island to pretend we are a normal family when we both know that's bullshit?"
"You're so selfish," she hisses. "Just like your father."
The comparison hits like a slap. Before I can say something I'll regret, I turn and walk out, slamming the door behind me.
I am back at the warehouse district before I've fully processed what just happened. My hands are shaking on the handlebars. My chest feels tight, like I can't get enough air.
She's getting married to some Russian businessman I've never met, and she wants me to play nice at Christmas like we're a real family.
Like she didn't abandon me when I needed her most.
Tommy looks up as I pull in, his eyebrows shooting up. "Ghost? What are you doing back? I thought—"
"Is there another race?" I cut him off. "I need another race."
He studies my face, and whatever he sees there makes him nod slowly. "Yeah, actually. Some new guy wants to challenge you. Showed up about ten minutes ago asking about Ghost."
"Perfect." I don't even ask about the pot. I don't care. I just need to ride. "Set it up."
"Ghost, wait." Tommy grabs my shoulder. "This guy's good. Like, really good. I saw him take a practice lap, and he's fast. Might actually give you competition."
"I don't care."
"I'm serious. He's got this custom bike that probably costs more than my yearly rent, and he rides like he was born on it. Rich kid with an accent, thinks he owns the place. But he's not just playing around. He actually knows what he's doing."
Something about Tommy's tone makes me pause. "You think he can beat me?"
Tommy shrugs. "I think he's the first person I've seen who might have a shot."
Good. I need this. I need to feel something other than the rage currently eating me alive.
"Where is he?"
Tommy points across the warehouse. There's a guy leaning against a sleek black motorcycle, his back to us. Even from here, I can tell the bike is expensive—custom paint job, top-of-the-line everything. He's tall and broad-shouldered, wearing a leather jacket that probably costs more than my rent.
"Let's do this," I say.
The race is brutal from the start. He takes the first corner with the kind of precision that only comes from years of practice, and by lap two, we're neck and neck.
I push harder. Faster. Taking risks I normally wouldn't. But he matches me move for move, and for the first time in months, I feel a genuine adrenaline spike through my veins.
We're side by side going into the final stretch. I can see the finish line. I lean forward, giving my bike everything.
Then he crosses before me. He wins by less than a second, but it counts.
The realization that I've lost hits me as I slow down, pulling my bike to a stop. The crowd is going insane, cheering for the new guy who just beat the undefeated Ghost.
He pulls off his helmet, and I forget how to breathe.
He's gorgeous. Dark hair slightly messy from the helmet, a sharp jawline, and the most striking grayish-blue eyes I've ever seen. He's looking at me with this intensity that makes my stomach flip.
"Good race." His voice is deep, with an accent I can't quite place—European, maybe Russian. He extends his hand. "I'm Rider."
I pull off my own helmet, shaking out my hair. "Ghost."
His eyes sweep over my face, and something flickers in his expression. Interest. Recognition of a kindred spirit, maybe.
"So, Ghost." He doesn't let go of my hand. "What are you running from?"
The question catches me off guard. It's too perceptive, too intimate for a stranger.
"What makes you think I'm running from anything?"
"Because I recognize the look." His thumb brushes across my knuckles, and electricity shoots up my arm. "It takes one to know one."
I should pull my hand away. Make some sarcastic comment and walk away. Instead, I hear myself say, “Would you like a drink, Rider?"
"Is that an invitation?"
"It's tradition. The loser buys the winner a drink."
His lips curve into a slow smile that does dangerous things to my pulse. "And here I thought you'd be a sore loser."
"I'm full of surprises."
"I'm counting on it." He finally releases my hand, but his eyes never leave mine. "Lead the way, Ghost."
As we walk toward our bikes, Tommy catches my eye from across the lot. He looks confused, concerned maybe. I ignore him.
I don't know who this guy is. Don't know why I'm inviting a complete stranger for drinks when my life is currently exploding. I don't know why the way he looks at me makes me feel seen in a way I haven't felt in years.
All I know is that when Rider swings his leg over his bike and looks back at me with those impossible eyes, something inside me melts.
"You coming?" he calls over the engine's roar.
I start my bike, my heart racing for entirely new reasons now.
"Right behind you."