I laugh at the fact he thought she was being serious.
“They’re all the same,” she whispers, shaking her head.
We cross a sky bridge and enter the building. It looks exactly like an airport would. Conveyor belts where luggage would ride, waiting for passengers to pick them up, look like they haven’t been used in years.
We take a moving sidewalk and glide up to the terminals. I step off and walk over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, looking out at the runway. People crowd around while cars are lined up at the end. A woman stands before them with a green flag in her hands.
“What are they doing?” I ask as Jasmine strolls up next to me.
“Racing. They do it every night.” She turns and heads away, and I follow her.
We take an escalator down and walk through the building, passing more gates until we come up to what appears to have once been a food court. Looking down over a railing, I see anarena-like structure. A makeshift bar sits off to the right, and people are packed around it.
Two men stand in the middle of the arena, fighting. It’s not like a UFC fight. This is more of a backyard kind of fight. One guy wears a hoodie and jeans while the other is in shorts and a wifebeater. No gloves or mouth guards.
We make our way downstairs to the bar and order drinks.
“Jasmine?”
She stiffens beside me at the sound of her name. Turning around, she leans her back against the bar. “What are you doing here?” she asks.
I glance over my shoulder to see a guy walk up to her with a smile covering his handsome face. Brown eyes look her up and down while he licks his lips, like he’s thinking of the past. “Oh my God, babe.” He reaches out to hug her.
She throws her hands up, stopping him. “Go away, Trenton.” She turns back to the bar just as the bartender sets two drinks in front of us.
I reach into my purse to grab a twenty, but she places a card on the bar top. “I want to start a tab,” she tells the guy.
He nods and takes it.
“Babe,” the guy behind us continues. “I’ve been calling you.”
“Yeah? How does your wife feel about that?” she asks, not looking back at him.
My brows rise.
He makes his way next to her, placing his forearm on the bar. “I told you we’re getting a divorce.”
She laughs. “You always were a liar.”
His gaze settles on me, and he winks.What the fuck, dude?“Hey, baby.”
“She’s dating Grave,” she informs him.
His eyes widen for a split second before they shift back to her. “Jas, come on.”
“Go away, Trenton,” she snaps at him. “Or I’ll send screenshots of those pics of your cock that you keep sending me to your wife with the timestamp and dates.”
His jaw tightens, but that’s enough to make him storm off back into the crowd.
“Divorcing his wife, my ass,” she hisses, then lifts her hand for the bartender.
“I’m guessing that wasn’t the guy from last night?” I ask.
She snorts. “No. The guy from last night isn’t married, but I’m not sure he’s any better.” She slaps the bar. “Fuck this drink. We need shots.”
An hour andcountless shots later, we remain close to the bar. I look to the right and see Grave standing about twenty feet away, talking to a man who is with a woman. He’s shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of black basketball shorts and tennis shoes, and his wet hair suggests he just showered.
As my eyes run over his tatted, muscular body, my thighs tighten. Grave is by far the sexiest man I’ve ever seen. He has that unobtainable air about him—the type of guy you want but know you can’t keep. The one who would give you a night of endless orgasms and never call you back. An absolute fuckboy.
