Page 68 of Riot

I do have some washing to do…

Riot:

I’m heading back now

Me:

I’ll call down to the desk to let them know you’re okay to come up

Riot:

Gonna have to get me a key

My heart flutters at the idea. I thought our confessions this morning were mainly because we were in the heat of the moment, but in the few hours that he’s been gone I realize that I’ve really missed him. I can’t wait for him to get here.

I also know I need to tidy myself up. I wanted to straighten my hair and put some makeup on. I’m not one of those girls who likes to just go au natural. Since Cookie is snoring lightly and it doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere anytime soon, I rise from the floor and head to my bedroom.

I pull my PJ bottoms off and slide into some sweats. They’re comfy and the material is a light fabric, making them perfect for loungewear.

I turn on my straightener and set to work, brushing out all my tangles and then apply some concealer, foundation, blush — well, the whole works really. But since it’s a Sunday, I don’t want it to seem like I’m overdone, so I keep it as light as possible.

When I hear the knock at the door and then Cookie barks, I know it’s Riot. I skip down the hallway, stopping my tracks when I see Cookie is gone from his bed. Okay, I know panicking won’t get me anywhere. He can’t go anywhere, but when I race down the hallway, I slide in my socks when I see him scratching at the front door.

Adorable.

I lean down to pat his head. “Good boy, Cookie. Daddy’s come home, yes he has, yes he has…” I flip the lock and open the door, but it’s not Riot. It’s my freaking never-gonna-be-married-to-you-in-this-century suitor my parents were thrusting at me. We dated like twice, but he was an arrogant prick who didn’t even like Cheetos. I mean, who doesn’t like Cheetos?

My eyes go wide. “Oh my God, Ian?”

He looks down at me and I can see in the six months since I saw him last that nothing has changed. He’s wearing a suit, his hair gelled back and his flashy watch glistening under the downlights above. He also has an arrogant chin that I just want to hit. I’m not usually a violent person, so I reserved my better judgment when we dated, and when he insisted on ordering my dinner for me, that’s where I drew the line.

“Hello, Lourdes.”

Jesus, now he’s using my real name. Fabulous.

My lips part. How did he— Wait,my parents?

Cookie growls. I glance down, my eyes going slightly round as Ian drops his gaze at the same time. “You got a dog?”

Duh. “W—What are you doing here?”

“I was in the neighborhood.” He glances around. “Nice digs.”

I narrow my eyes. “How did you even get up here?”

He swings a key fob around his finger. “Oh, I bought a place in the building.”

I gape. “You w—what?”

“I’m in New Orleans a lot for work, and I needed a more permanent place to stay. Your parents were the ones who told me about this building, actually. What a stroke of luck.”

Luck has nothing to do with it. I clear my throat. “Uh, okay…” I’ve no idea what to say.

I keep my hand on the door, ready to slam it in his face if I have to. I mean, I made it clear I didn’t like him inthatway, and he had the nerve to tell me he’d prefer it if I lost a few pounds before he’d even consider getting physical. Like getting physical was even an option. I wince at the memory, and then my parents’ suggestion that it would be a perfect match. Living in St. Charles Parish my whole life, I know how high society works, and the families that seem to have their own set of rules. Like mine. To suggest that I wed this guy? Were they freaking serious?

“So—”

“You’re here because of my parents, aren’t you?”

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