Chapter Two

Sasha

I blink at the man staring at me, his gaze intense with a mischievous glint in his eyes. Tousled light brown hair gracefully falls over his forehead, adding a boyish charm to his rugged features, and I fight the urge to lean over and brush it from his face.

When he smirks at me, a subtle air of confidence surrounds him, and I question what it's like to have that much confidence. It radiates from him in waves.

I obviously cannot relate to that as my eyes quickly drop from his to the ground.

"I . . . I need that document if you don't mind."

"No," the man says again, causing my eyes to shoot back to his.

"W-what do you mean, no?"

I follow as the man stands, holding my document and something else he picked up from the ground, and I see it's a phone. "I dropped my phone when you bumped into me. I think I'm owed more than a simple ‘sorry,' don't you?" he asks with a smirk, showing me the phone with a small crack at the edge of the screen.

No way should I let myself get pushed around by this stranger. I should stand up to him and demand my document, but . . . I don't.

Christ, I am pathetic. What kind of lawyer can't even stand up for themselves? It's clear this handsome devil is trying to test me, to provoke me. How do I know the damage to his phone wasn't already there? But I can't bring myself to challenge him, even standing right outside a police station.

Have I always been a pushover? Well . . . yes.

When you are raised in a family of wolves, you either grow into one or become a lamb that gets walked all over by everyone. I had the unfortunate luck of being the latter.

I am the only girl and youngest child in a family of five kids, all of whom followed in my father's political footsteps. My mother is a ruthless businesswoman in her own right, with a reputation for making her employees cry. I once saw her assistant sobbing in the ladies' room after getting scolded by my mother. My oldest brother is running for governor in the next election, and with the support he has, there is every chance of him coming out the winner. My younger brothers are all lawyers with their sights set on public office as well.

And then there is me.

One would think that being raised by an attorney general for a father and a CEO for a mother would shape me into someone just as ruthless, but I somehow missed those genes because I emerged a scared girl afraid of my own shadow.

Christ, this man must see it written all over my face and is trying to take advantage of it.

I should call him out on it. Tell him that he cannot play with me like this, but . . . it's much easier and less stressful to just figure out what he wants so he'll leave me alone.

But do you really want that? a small voice in my mind asks. This man, whoever he is, is one of the most attractive men I've ever met. There's something about him that's dangerous and alluring at the same time.

Being the only girl and the youngest in my family might mean that I'm often pushed around and told what to do, but there is no denying that I'm also spoiled. No one has ever told me no on the rare occasions that I've asked for something. The fear my father instills in everyone who knows his name is enough to make doors open for me. I'm not blind to that fact. So, having this man tell me no is a shock.

My father would be disappointed. I am a senior criminal justice major about to start law school and interning at the prosecutor's office. I've been studying for the LSATs for years, and I know the law like the back of my hand. Heck, my father had me memorize the Bill of Rights by the time I was in first grade. It would be an embarrassment to my family and lineage if I let this man push me around, but . . . they're not here to see it.

No one will know it happened, and if it keeps me from having to deal with him further, then I might as well take the easy route.

And with that thought in mind, I reach into my purse and pull out all the cash I have on me without counting it and hand it to him. I don't dare look up to read his expression, hoping he'll just take the money and leave, but he doesn't.

"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!"

"That's great, Lisa! I know how much you love her books," I tell her, climbing into the taxi and murmuring my destination to the driver, who simply nods.

"You know what's even better? She says she's read my stories, and she's excited to meet me too." I pull my phone from my ear when my cousin breaks into a cheer. "I can't believe it, Sasha, I finally get to meet my idol! I have to pack, so I can leave tonight."

Her words give me pause. "T-tonight?"

"Yes, I'm packing up right now. She and a bunch of other writers will be having dinner at the Hilton Anatole tomorrow night, and she said I could join them. You bet your ass I'll be there, but I want to leave tonight instead of tomorrow, so I don't risk getting caught in traffic or something. I might even stay in Dallas the whole weekend!"

It's on the tip of my tongue to stop her, tell her that I am meeting a strange man tonight, and ask for her advice, but the thought of saying anything that might tempt her to stay stops me. It's been a long time since I've heard my cousin so excited about anything. She spends most of her days in our shared apartment, writing, and this is her chance to finally go out.

No, I am not taking that away from her.

Lisa deserves to get out and have fun, and I . . . Well, I'll just have to deal with this mysterious man on my own.

"Have fun, Lisa," I tell her. "Call me if you need anything."

"Will do. I'll be back in a few days at most. Don't miss me too much!"

The call ends just as the taxi is pulling up outside city hall. I thank the driver and pay him, but I don't go in. I stop at the entrance and contemplate walking in or stalling a little.

When my supervisor sent me to the police department to collect some documents on a case he's currently working, I knew he was just trying to get me out of the office, so he and my colleagues could gossip about my brother and his political aspirations. The election is in a few months, and it's all anyone is talking about. My presence makes it difficult for them to speak openly.

I breathe out a sigh and stare at the entrance, questioning for the first time what the hell I am doing here.

I never wanted to be a lawyer. Hell, I don't even believe I'll be a good one. Sure, I'm book smart and get high scores on all my tests, but that's where it ends. My life was written for me before I was born, and it became clear from a young age that I didn't have a choice in the matter.

And now, I am stuck in an internship I never wanted with colleagues who walk on eggshells around me. Even my supervisor is terrified because a word from me to any one of my family members could end his career.

Not that I would do that. The thought of hurting or offending anyone sends my insides churning.

And yet, that's what everyone sees when they look at me. A ticking time bomb that could explode and take everyone nearby with me. They're all scared of me.

He's not.

The unbidden thought enters my mind as the memory of Riot returns. The smug way he looked at me, almost as if he doesn't care that I am the daughter of one of the most powerful men in Austin.

He'd told me no.

A word no one outside of my family has ever said to me, but a stranger looked me dead in the eye and refused to give into my wishes, demanding I give into his instead.

I tremble as I mentally relive my encounter with Riot. I chew at my lip as thoughts I have never entertained before storm in.

Here is one man outside of my family that is not scared of me.

Rugged, dangerous, and the complete opposite of everything I am used to.

Part of me thinks he won't really call, that he was just teasing me. But I realize . . . I want him to. I want to see him again, to hear what it is he wants from me. Whatever it is, I'll give it to him. A way to reach my father or brothers? I can connect him to them, but . . . I want something in exchange.

A night.

It's my only chance.

With this thought in mind, I quickly text my supervisor that I'm taking the rest of the day off. Not that he'll care. He'll probably be happy to have me gone for the rest of the day. Once the text is sent, I rush back down the steps, my hand lifted to call for a taxi.

I need to catch Lisa before she leaves for Dallas. My wardrobe will not cut it for what I need tonight. I'll need my cousin's help with that.

One night.

Tonight, I don't want to be Alexandra "Sasha" Greenwald, the daughter of the most powerful man in Austin. No, I'm going to be just Sasha, a simple, twenty-one-year-old college girl.

I just pray I'm not getting my hopes up for nothing, that Riot really will call.