Page 3 of Taming Riot

No, beautiful doesn’t begin to cover it. Everything about her from her pretty eyes and lips to her voice is so ethereal, I want to touch her. Heaven above, I want to tear away that ugly suit and explore her body, watch those emerald eyes grow dazed as I kiss a path down her body and—

“Sir?” Her sweet voice snaps me from my thoughts to find her staring at me. She nods at the sheet of paper lying between my legs, and I grab it, but I don’t hand it back, causing her brows to rise. “Can I have it back?”

I stare at my angel and realize it would be so simple to act gentlemanly and help her collect her papers. Hell, I could even apologize to kill the weird tension in the air, but I am anything but a gentleman.

Besides, I bet she gets a lot of that. A pretty girl such as herself must be surrounded by men willing to bend over backward so she can have her way, and no, I don’t want to be just another kind face that disappears from her memory.

I am no gentleman. A rogue, perhaps.

And I want this perfect girl to remember me. In her sleep, I want her to dream of the one man who told her . . .

“No.”

Chapter Two

Sasha

I blink at the man staring at me, his gaze intense with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Tousled light brown hair gracefully falls over his forehead, adding a boyish charm to his rugged features, and I fight the urge to lean over and brush it from his face.

When he smirks at me, a subtle air of confidence surrounds him, and I question what it’s like to have that much confidence. It radiates from him in waves.

I obviously cannot relate to that as my eyes quickly drop from his to the ground.

“I . . . I need that document if you don’t mind.”

“No,” the man says again, causing my eyes to shoot back to his.

“W-what do you mean, no?”

I follow as the man stands, holding my document and something else he picked up from the ground, and I see it’s a phone. “I dropped my phone when you bumped into me. I think I’m owed more than a simple ‘sorry,’ don’t you?” he asks with a smirk, showing me the phone with a small crack at the edge of the screen.

No way should I let myself get pushed around by this stranger. I should stand up to him and demand my document, but . . . I don’t.

Christ, I am pathetic. What kind of lawyer can’t even stand up for themselves? It’s clear this handsome devil is trying to test me, to provoke me. How do I know the damage to his phone wasn’t already there? But I can’t bring myself to challenge him, even standing right outside a police station.

Have I always been a pushover? Well . . . yes.

When you are raised in a family of wolves, you either grow into one or become a lamb that gets walked all over by everyone. I had the unfortunate luck of being the latter.

I am the only girl and youngest child in a family of five kids, all of whom followed in my father’s political footsteps. My mother is a ruthless businesswoman in her own right, with a reputation for making her employees cry. I once saw her assistant sobbing in the ladies’ room after getting scolded by my mother. My oldest brother is running for governor in the next election, and with the support he has, there is every chance of him coming out the winner. My younger brothers are all lawyers with their sights set on public office as well.

And then there is me.

One would think that being raised by an attorney general for a father and a CEO for a mother would shape me into someone just as ruthless, but I somehow missed those genes because I emerged a scared girl afraid of my own shadow.

Christ, this man must see it written all over my face and is trying to take advantage of it.

I should call him out on it. Tell him that he cannot play with me like this, but . . . it’s much easier and less stressful to just figure out what he wants so he’ll leave me alone.

But do you really want that? a small voice in my mind asks. This man, whoever he is, is one of the most attractive men I’ve ever met. There’s something about him that’s dangerous and alluring at the same time.

Being the only girl and the youngest in my family might mean that I’m often pushed around and told what to do, but there is no denying that I’m also spoiled. No one has ever told me no on the rare occasions that I’ve asked for something. The fear my father instills in everyone who knows his name is enough to make doors open for me. I’m not blind to that fact. So, having this man tell me no is a shock.

My father would be disappointed. I am a senior criminal justice major about to start law school and interning at the prosecutor’s office. I’ve been studying for the LSATs for years, and I know the law like the back of my hand. Heck, my father had me memorize the Bill of Rights by the time I was in first grade. It would be an embarrassment to my family and lineage if I let this man push me around, but . . . they’re not here to see it.

No one will know it happened, and if it keeps me from having to deal with him further, then I might as well take the easy route.

And with that thought in mind, I reach into my purse and pull out all the cash I have on me without counting it and hand it to him. I don’t dare look up to read his expression, hoping he’ll just take the money and leave, but he doesn’t.

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