Page 4 of Taming Riot

“T-this should cover the broken screen . . .”

I look back up to lock my gaze with his and notice the smirk from earlier is gone. He looks almost . . . angry. Offended?

Is it not enough? Does he need more?

The man folds his arms in front of his chest and stares down at me, the mischievous glint in his eyes dimming a bit. “I can pay for my own shit, sweetheart, put that away,” he says, his voice deep and rough.

I chew at my lips nervously as I stare at him. If he doesn’t want money, what does he want? Unless . . .

Does he know who I am? What if he wants a favor from my father or one of my brothers? If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my father, it’s that everyone wants something. Why didn’t I think of that earlier? This man doesn’t look like the usual type to seek a favor from my well-connected family with his jeans and leather jacket, but what do I know?

“W-what do you want?” I ask him, putting away the money and waiting for him to point out which family member he wants to meet.

His eyes cross over my shoulder, and I follow his gaze to see some suited guy walk out of the police station. He’s carrying a briefcase and everything about him screams “lawyer.”

“Tell you what, sweetheart,” the man says, drawing my attention back to him. “How about you give me your number, and I will get back to you with my request.”

The other man approaches, and I see his eyes widen when he notices me. “Sasha Greenwald, a pleasure to meet you. I’m Sam Hagan. I used to work with your father,” he says when he reaches us, offering a hand for me to shake.

I’m not surprised he recognizes me; photos of my family have featured prominently in my father’s and brother’s political campaigns.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking his hand.

“A pleasure. I heard you are interning with the county prosecutor. How are you liking it?”

“I love it. I’m learning a lot,” I tell him my standard answer.

He smiles at me then turns to my stranger. “Riot, everything has been taken care of. I’d tell you to stay out of trouble, but I think I’ll save my breath.”

Riot. The stranger’s name is Riot. I can’t deny that it suits him. He thanks Mr. Hagan and waves him off before turning back to me.

He taps rapidly on the screen of his phone before handing it to me, and I see he’s opened a new contact.

“I’m not giving you my number,” I say, finally finding my backbone.

He smirks, and that mischievous sparkle is back in his gaze. “Well, Sasha Greenwald,” he says, emphasizing my name, “I suppose you don’t need to. Now that I know your name and where you work, I can just stop by your office when I’m ready with my request.”

Shit. Somehow, I know without asking that if this man shows up at my office, he’ll cause a scene just from his appearance alone. It’s the last thing I need to get back to my father who has only just started trusting me to be on my own.

Without a word, I snatch his phone and quickly input my number before thrusting it back at him.

“Sasha,” he drawls, my name rolling off his tongue smoothly and sending a tremor through my body, taking me by surprise. Oblivious to the effect his deep voice is having on me, he hands me back the document he’s kept captive to this moment. Our fingers brush, and I shudder at the heat that transfers from his skin to mine.

What is happening to me?

“Tonight, Sasha,” Riot says, pocketing his phone. “I’ll call you tonight, and then we can discuss how you can repay me for the damage to my phone.”

Logically, I know that he is exaggerating and I am under no obligation to answer his call, much less meet him. But something about him calls to that little rebellious part of me that I’ve kept hidden my whole life. I can’t deny that I’m attracted to Riot, but it’s more than that. He is unlike any man I’ve ever met before, and he’s everything my parents despise.

In a few months, I’ll be starting law school and officially embarking on the path my parents have laid out for me since before I was born. Riot represents what might be my last chance to explore what little freedom I have before it’s taken away. With a final, lingering gaze, Riot walks away, leaving me standing awkwardly outside the police station. I am still trembling as I sort all the papers before slipping them into my bag.

I’m about to leave when the vibrating sound in my bag startles me, and I reach shakily in to grab my phone, half-terrified, half-hoping it’s the stranger calling me. A relieved sigh escapes my lips when I see it’s my cousin calling.

“Sasha, guess what?” Lisa’s voice breaks through the second I connect the call. “You know the writer I was telling you about? Glenda Jones?”

I nod before remembering she can’t see me, lifting a hand to hail a taxi. “The famous writer you’ve been talking to for weeks?”

“Yes, that one,” she says excitedly. “Guess what happened? No, don’t guess. I’m too excited to wait. Glenda will be in Dallas for a book tour, and she wants us to meet!”

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