Page 16 of Taming Riot

“I mean, we could always file a motion with the court to compel the attorney general to release those files,” I say instead.

I catch one of the girls rolling her eyes. “But that could take weeks, or even months. Your dad is the attorney general, right? Maybe you could talk to him about it.”

My mouth goes dry, and a nervous sweat breaks out down my back. It’s not in my nature to say no when people approach me for favors. I realized pretty young that saying no doesn’t make people like you, and I hate being in uncomfortable situations.

And yet, there are requests for favors like this that make me feel suffocated. They’re asking me to get confidential information through a back door, and . . . I can’t.

This is one line I am unwilling to cross, but the word “no” is stuck in my throat. Before I think myself into a full panic attack, my phone vibrates on the table. I grab it like a lifeline and excuse myself, nearly running toward the bathroom.

I answer the call without bothering to look at the caller ID, my breath coming in short pants as I put my phone against my ear. “Hello.”

“Sasha?”

Riot’s familiar, deep voice grounds me, but not entirely. I slip into an open stall and sit on the toilet lid. “Yeah, hey.”

“You sound out of breath. Are you okay?”

Tell him you’re fine. Hang up the phone before you dig your feet deeper into the sand.

“No,” I choke out, the word coming easier because it’s him. With Riot, I can just be Sasha. He doesn’t ask anything from me but to be myself. All he wants is me. Not whatever stupid favors he can use me to get from my father or brothers.

Just me.

“Do you want me to come to you?”

Say no.

“Yes.”

“Where are you?”

“Hiding in the bathroom of a restaurant near my office,” I tell him, and he asks me to share my location before hanging up. I leave the stall and imagine sneaking out of the restaurant, but I have to face these people for the duration of my internship so I force myself to head back to the table.

I find them whispering among themselves, and it must be about me as they quickly sit up when I approach the table.

“Who was that?” Carla asks when I settle back in my seat.

“Uhm . . . a friend,” I say, fighting to mask the tremor in my voice. I tap the screen of my phone, and it lights up, showing me that we still have twenty minutes of our lunch break left.

I never should have joined them when they asked me to.

I blame it all on Riot. Spending the weekend with him made me forget the fact that I live in a self-serving world.

“So, Sasha, about what we were saying earlier . . .”

“Yes?” I say, feigning ignorance.

“Surely you can ask your father to do us this little favor. You’re his only daughter, he would never say no to you.”

My hands tremble under the table, and I lock them between my thighs in an attempt to calm down. With my heart beating in my throat, I finally respond. “I think we should just file a motion and go through the proper channels.”

“C’mon, Sasha. Why would we go that route when there is a much simpler option? Just talk to your daddy and ask him . . .” Carla’s voice trails off as her eyes shift to something over my shoulder. The others follow her gaze, and I practically see their desire light up in their eyes, all except Nick, who looks annoyed. “Speaking of daddies . . .”

I turn around to watch Riot walk into the restaurant dressed casually in dark jeans and a black t-shirt, his tattoos on full display. His narrowed eyes look around the restaurant before settling on me.

“Oh my God, he’s heading this way,” another one of the interns, whose name I still don’t know, whispers, straightening her blouse and patting her hair as Riot approaches our table, his eyes locked on mine.

He leans down and brushes his lips over my cheek, more in a quick brush of skin than a kiss, before straightening up. “Let’s go,” he says without acknowledging my colleagues, taking everyone, including myself, by surprise.

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