Riot

Chapter Ten

Riot

The appointment came through. Johnson sounded way too interested when he informed me. Asked who this young lady is who keeps booking me.

Told him to fuck off and mind his own business. Probably not the best way to talk to the boss’s nephew, but seriously, fuck him. He’d better stay away from Pax.

All men better stay away from her.

Jesus, Riot.

And I shouldn’t be going about my day like I’m floating on air because I’m meeting her tonight. Goddamn stupid. I’m so distracted I’m late for one of my appointments and the client is so upset with me she sends me away.

Explain that to Johnson now. Shit.

The next appointment goes better—at least I find the place in time, even wait a little. The woman is okay. She’s nice, not bad-looking, and doesn’t want anything weird.

Some talking. Some kissing. But I just can’t get into it. She tastes wrong. Feels wrong.

Not Pax. She’s not Pax, dammit.

I’m so out of sorts I leave her house forgetting my bike. My fucking bike. That’s not happening. When has that ever happened to me? Un-fucking-believable.

Grumbling, I return to get the bike, then I remember who I’m meeting later on and grin to myself.

Oh man, that’s it, I’ve gone off the deep end. It’s as if I’m fall—

No. Fuck no. That only happens to morons, to soft mama’s boys who think the world is all roses and fluffy clouds.

Not to men who know life, like me.

I’ve never fallen in love. I don’t believe in love. And that’s all there is to it.

***

Same hotel, same lobby, same fucking potted plants and the receptionist girl batting her lashes at me.

I’m early. Always early when I meet Pax. I just wish we could take this somewhere else, somewhere without prying eyes and awkward memories. Start fresh. Clean slate.

As what, then? Girlfriend and boyfriend? Get real.

“Do you need something?” the girl asks. “Something I can help you with?”

“Waiting for someone.”

She says something more that I ignore and lounge by the plants, hands in my pockets, head tipped back. Like every time, I think she might not come. Change her mind.

As the minutes tick by, different scenarios flip through my head. She forgot about it. She made plans with another guy. She decided on another escort. She had a flat tire. She got kidnapped. She—

The doors slide open and she’s there. Slim, pretty, in her charcoal coat and high heels, her dark hair coming out of her ponytail to frame her face.

Uncertain.

Goddamn perfect.

Can’t believe my relief that she made it. That she wanted it enough to come. I grin at her and see her eyes light up, her mouth curve up in a smile.

She makes my breath catch.