Davina's POV
After the underground fight, Irvin drove me to his usual club—the same place he always hit up following his Friday night matches.
The hour was late. Streets pulsed with that electric energy that only emerged after dark.
I settled into the passenger seat of Irvin's car, my fingers loosely woven through his. Words escaped me, but my heart hammered against my ribs.
Nearly an hour had passed before I'd managed to shake off the whole Will Jenkin incident.
At a red light, Irvin glanced my way, his thumb tracing gentle circles across my knuckles. "You alright?" His voice came out hushed, rough around the edges.
I gave him a nod. "Yeah."
The lie tasted bitter. Nerves ate at my stomach.
My last visit to this club with Irvin had been a disaster—treated like garbage while he stood by and watched.
The memory still stung.
But tonight would be different, wouldn't it?
I stole a glance at Irvin.
He shot me a wink. I couldn't help but smile back.
Tonight had to be different.
