Page 2 of Riot

He grins at me as he turns to see me watching him, and it’s like my eyes clear when I see the devastatingly handsome man sitting next to me. His hair is black and swept artfully back—not too short, not too long. His perfect skin covers high cheekbones and a sharp jaw. His eyes are dark and deadly looking. I see tattoos peeking from his suit, but I force myself to stop looking. There are a lot of attractive men here, and tall, dark, and handsome isn’t in short supply—not with the money they spend to look that way, even if there is something different about this one.

“Hi, I’m Kage. You’re Fallon.”

“How astute,” I retort. My cutting attitude is enough to deter most people, but his expression doesn’t falter. If anything, his smile grows, his eyes twinkling as he leans in.

“I’ve been called many things, but that’s a new one.”

I offer him a tight smile and force my eyes away as the awards show begins. I want to slouch, but I remember my extensive training and force myself to sit taller, holding my Champagne like a shield and giving my hands something to do.

I feel Kage lean closer, but I don’t glance his way. “Where’s your boyfriend tonight?”

“Husband,” I correct, peering at him. This close, he has beautiful golden flecks in his eyes, so different from my cold ones.

“That’s the one.” He aims a rakish, crooked smile at me.

Rolling my eyes, I turn my attention back to the stage. “He didn’t want all the attention.” He hates it. He hates the cameras and the fans. I loved that at first, that he hated everything as much as I did, but now it just annoys me. I might not feel much when I’m with him, but at least he was a buffer, an excuse. Now, he seems to avoid these things as much as possible. I might be a cruel bitch, but I love my job and singing, and I want to support new singers in a way I never was, so I’m here, alone, being hit on by the playboy of pop/rock.

Yes, I know who he is even if I’ll never admit it, nor the fact that his woodsy scent wraps around me.

When his mouth nearly touches my ear as he leans in, my heart pounds for the first time in a very long time. “No offense, beautiful, but that’s a pile of shit. You need to be showed off and have someone who shines with you, not holds you back. You shouldn’t settle for someone who isn’t willing to love you at your brightest.”

“And what would you know about that?” I snap, growing annoyed. He isn’t saying things I haven’t already told myself, but it’s annoying that he’s seen them. Why did he notice that? How closely has this man been watching me?

“A lot. I’ll show you if you’ll let me.” He smirks, his eyes heating as they sweep down my body.

“Are you forgetting my husband?” I point out the ring on my finger, the one I bought since he was struggling for money when we first met. That was another thing I liked, being in power and knowing he was dependent on me, not the other way around. It meant I had a hold on him. Toxic, I know, but it’s a lesson learned.

“I don’t see him here, but if you tell me you’re really happy in your marriage, then I’ll back off. I’ll wait,” he murmurs, his eyes only for me despite our surroundings, and I’m sucked into the aura that surrounds him despite everything.

“Wait?” I repeat.

“Wait.” He nods, leaning in until his mouth is pressed against my ear. “Wait until you’re done with him, tired of him, and toss him aside, and then I’ll be right here, waiting.”

I snort, a sound I never make, and my heart spasms at his words. He’s implying I’ll end my marriage, which I don’t think I ever will. Despite the coolness between us now, I genuinely care for Gerald. Maybe not as deeply as one should for their husband, but still, it’s more than I’ve ever felt before.

I might even love the man, if I were capable of that.

I should say all that, but instead, something else slips out. “What makes you think I would ever give you a shot?”

“Because, baby, I’d be so fucking good to you. I’ve been waiting for a chance to meet you . . . to love you.”

“You’re insane,” I reply since we just met. “Besides, I don’t do love.”

“Then I’ll love enough for both of us.” He shrugs casually, like talking about loving me, a married stranger, is totally normal.

What is this guy’s deal?

He seemed so sane online and in interviews. He’s filled with life, love, and passion, everything I’m lacking.

“That will only get you a broken heart,” I retort rather than ignoring the crazy bastard grinning at me like I’m the best thing he’s ever seen. It’s not the usual obsession I see in fans or men. He’s not wondering how quickly he can get into my pants, although desire is there, and he’s not reaching for my fame or my money. He’s looking at me, truly looking at me, as if he sees all the way to my bitter, broken core and likes it. There is pure want in his eyes, obsession, as if nothing else in this world exists but me and my words.

It’s addictive and slightly terrifying.

“Then break it,” he urges, still smiling. “Fucking smash it to pieces, sweetheart. I’ll thank you for it.”

“You’re fucking insane.” I laugh, shaking my head as I clap along with everyone else.

He leans in once more, his eyes only for me. “You have no idea, Fallon, but you will.”

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