The Jesko purred to a stop in one of the roped-off VIP spaces, its white paintwork catching the scattered glow of London's lights.
Izan killed the engine, stepped out, and reached across the seat for the small black Tesco bag he'd carried along, folding its handles in his grip as if it were nothing important.
Ahead of him, Olivia, who had already gotten out, was making her way toward the wide pavement leading to the observation wheel, her soft dress catching in the light breeze.
Her steps, though, were uneven, deliberate and slightly careful.
The low heels she'd chosen earlier had begun their rebellion, and it showed how her posture stiffened with each stride.
Izan lingered for a moment, watching her, the corner of his mouth lifting as though he'd been expecting this all along.
He slipped the bag behind his back and caught up quickly, the crunch of his sneakers light on the ground.
