Page 144 of Divine Obsession

Still, curiosity won over. I stepped out, the night air thick with a warmth that clung. Holding my hand in his, Trevor moved ahead of me, effortless, like he knew this place better than the penthouse parties we had just left.

We slipped into the night market, past stalls bursting with color – bright dragon fruit, skewers sizzling over open flames, steam curling from bamboo baskets stacked high with dumplings. The hum of voices wrapped around us, a blend of Cantonese and Mandarin. The scent of incense, exhaust, and something savory curled through the air as we passed rows of mom-and-pop shops, flickering red lanterns swaying overhead.

Trevor stopped at a small stall tucked between two others, the kind of place you wouldn’t really notice. A woman behind the counter barely glanced up, already moving. She handed him two bowls, steam curling. He passed one to me, and I caught the scent of rich pork bone stock, the sharp bite of chili oil, the warmth of fresh noodles tangled together like silk.

“Lanzhou beef noodles,” He said, grabbing chopsticks. “Best in the city.”

I looked at the bowl, then at him. “You do this often? Kidnap women from parties and take them to eat street food?”

“Only the difficult ones.”

I smirked but didn’t argue.

We ate in silence for a while, the market moving around us, alive and breathing. I watched the way Trevor carried himself here – different from the Upper East Side and even SoHo,different from the quiet power he wore like a second skin. Here, he was comfortable. At ease.

“Why’d you really bring me here?” I asked finally.

He glanced at me, then back at his bowl. “Because I wanted to.”

The way he said it, low and simple, made my stomach flip in a way I didn’t like.

I focused on my food instead.

The tension between us sat heavy, unsaid, somewhere between the neon glow and the steam curling into the cold night air.

And for the first time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to leave.

We stayed there for another hour, getting dessert and boba, before heading back to his car.

Just as we reached the end of the market, a voice called across the street. “Is that Trevor motherfucking Su?”

The muscles in Trevor’s body curled with tension, almost like he was waiting for a fight. As we turned around, his hand instinctively moved near the gun tucked into the back of his waistband. His body language was cool, calm, collected – already assessing the situation.

My pulse quickened.

A group of men was approaching, a few of them laughing, obviously drunk and high. But the one leading them, the one who had yelled –I recognized him.

Harvard’s basketball captain from college;Aaron. I hadn’t thought about him in years, not since that night – when Trevor had snapped his arm in half after he dedicated a dunk to me. That incident had ruined his chances of going pro, though I was fairly sure he wasn’t good enough to make it in the first place.

Now, Aaron had traded in his basketball shorts for a tailored suit, and his vitamin supplements for cocaine. His friends – just as arrogant and loud – trailed behind.

I felt the unease prick at the back of my neck, but Trevor was calm – a stillness to him that made everything about him seem even more dangerous. He didn’t show fear; never did.

“Jesus, man. What’s it been? Five years” Aaron called, his tone dripping with mockery. His eyes slid over to me. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t Natalia. Still the best tits I’ve ever seen.”

The words felt like a slap.

Trevor stepped forward. I gripped his arm, digging my nails into his bicep. Holding him back.

Aaron’s friends chuckled, looking between him and Trevor, begging for a fight.

Trevor’s voice came smooth and dark. “Look at her again, I’ll break your fucking neck this time.”

“What? You think you’re still some fucking tough guy? Because you broke my arm–”

“You’re still not worth the time,” Trevor interrupted, enough weight to his voice to silence everyone. “But if you insist, I’ll give you a lesson in pain you’ll never forget.”

The words hung in the air, cold and unforgiving.

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