Page 20 of Riot

“I’ll put it on my daddy’s card,” she teased.

I chuckled, shaking my head as I prepped the meal, but inside... all I could think about was choice. What it would feel like to cook for myself. To wear jeans. To step outside without permission. To wake up and not hear him call me Virgin.

One day.

Maybe soon.

Because this? This wasn’t living.

And I didn’t come this far just to stay caged.

“Can I ask you a question?” I asked her while she was mid chew.

“Sure,” her voice was muffled.

“Do you know the Kings? Riot King?” I asked.

“I know of him but I never met him. But… I am dating his cousin Rollo. It’s new so I’m sure I’ll meet Riot. Daddy used to do a lot of business with their father way back.”

“Oh. Well, he came here the other day. Sold your father a tiger.”

“You like him?” She smirked.

“No, I was just curious.”

“Well, Daddy, says the Kings are crazy. That Silas was insane and had several insane kids. He would have a heart attack if he knew I was dating one of their cousins. I’m living for the excitement.”

I wished I could too. I’d love to live for the excitement. And Something about hearing that Riot was crazy, turned me on but it shouldn’t have. If he’s doing business with Boaz, he’s a bad man.

I had just finished stuffing the branzino, hands deep in citrus and herbs, when I heard the sound of loafers against the tile.

Boaz entered the kitchen with the same self-important air he always carried, like the marble floor should kiss his feet just for holding his weight. Irina perked up instantly.

“Daddy!” she said brightly, hopping off the counter and wrapping her arms around him.

He barely looked at her. No affection. No warmth. Just a single pat on the back and a grunt. His eyes moved past her and landed on me—and they immediately narrowed.

He took a slow, disgusted step forward.

“What isthat?”

His voice sliced through the room like a whip.

I froze, blinking. “What?”

He pointed, his lip curling like he’d just caught a stench. “That.On the back of your dress.”

I turned slightly, pulling the hem of my robe around, and then my stomach dropped.

A dark crimson stain had bloomed across the back of the white fabric.

Blood.

My heart skipped, then pounded in my ears. Shit. My cycle. PCOS made it unpredictable. Sometimes it came late. Sometimes it didn’t come for months. Sometimes it came like this—unannounced, aggressive, humiliating.

Irina stepped back, muttering under her breath. “Uh oh.”

Boaz’s face twisted like I’d personally offended God.

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