Vincent's hand hovered over the handle of the bike, his fingers trembling against the cold metal. One clench the motorcycle will roar and he'll completly ditch Marcus and choose the millionaire life .. but he hesitated.
He shouldn't hesitate—in fact, he should've crossed this area by now, the wind whipping past as he left Marcus behind.
But he didn't. The engine idled beneath him, a low rumble that mirrored the chaos in his chest.
What the hell are you doing? he thought, his pulse a frantic drumbeat. The card in his pocket felt like a live wire, promising freedom, yet something guilt, a flicker of something deeper rooted him in place. He took a shaky breath, the morning air sharp with exhaust and coffee, and swung his leg off the bike.
He didn't enter the restaurant. Instead, he slipped behind a small pillar at the parking lot's edge, its rough concrete cool against his back, just wide enough to shield his lean frame.
