“He deserved it.” I shrug. “That journalist is lying. It wascompletelyprovoked.”
Enzo pinches the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh. “It doesn’tmatter.Just be thankful the prosecutor was a fan of your dad’s music and is willing to cut you a break.” Enzo’s mouth turns down in a frown at the mention of my father, his dark blue eyes misting with tears that are gone in the next blink. “I don’t know why it’s so hard to get through to you.”
Despite being my manager and fifty-two to my thirty-one, I view Enzo as a brother. When Riot Rush signed its first record deal sixteen years ago, Enzo went above and beyond, stepping into the role of protective older sibling and filling the gaping chasm our parents left when they died.
No matter how I’ve fucked up or what the tabloids say, he’s remained loyal. He takes care of me, bails me out, and manages my failed career—and I stop him when he’s about to go off the deep end.
It’s a good system, but I hate how serious he takes his job sometimes. Moments like now… I wish he would just forget about me and leave me to rot, to face the consequences of the disaster I’ve created.
But I know he won’t. He’s too good. So much better than I deserve.
Enzo leans forward, unblinking as he makes eye contact with me. “This is serious, Riot. I don’t think you understand that.”
I shrug, walking over to his bar cart and pouring a finger’s worth of bourbon. “Is it, really? I hadnoidea. Must be all the drugs frying my brain.” My voice is seething as I quote the tabloid article. When Enzo doesn’t respond, I walk to the window, my eyes taking in the sprawling city as I swirl the amber liquid around my glass—trying desperately to take my mind off the emotions warring in my chest.
Enzo’s office is on the fifth floor of one of the high-rises lining the coastline of Neon Valley, and while it’s not the fanciest, it does have a decent view. To the left, crystalline blue-green waves crash against the finest white sand beaches. To the right, a bustling city—a jungle of concrete and neon lights that spans for miles and breathes a life of its own.
I drag my eyes down to the sidewalk, taking in the large crowd gathered outside the Neon Valley Concert Hall. It’s a beautiful old building directly across the street from Enzo’soffice, and it seems every time I’m here, some prestigious event is taking place.
From my vantage point, I can just make out the smiling, animated faces of the crowd. Women in ball gowns, draped in fine jewelry and glittering gemstones the size of golf balls. Men in tuxedos, hair slicked back and chests puffed out as they cast longing looks out of the corner of their eyes toward the concert hall doors.
They’re waiting for something.
I don’t have to wait long to find out what. A heartbeat later, the doors open, and a woman with hair the color of cherry blossoms steps out onto the platform. She’s dressed in a pale gold gown, the material flowing to the concrete in shimmering pools of molten liquid, clinging to each dip and curve of her body like a second skin. As she walks, the slit along the side of her dress parts, revealing a sliver of her silky-smooth thigh. My throat dries as I drag my gaze down, down, down, admiring the strappy golden heels plastered to her feet, the way they bring out the curves in her pert little ass.
Forgetting about my conversation with Enzo, I step closer to the window as if that will allow me to be nearer to the beautiful creature down below.
Who are you?
The patiently waiting crowd swarms the woman, their mouths moving animatedly and their bodies writhing to get closer to her. Cameras flash wildly, illuminating the wide-eyed expression on the woman’s face. My chest clenches, and I’m struck by how incrediblysadshe looks. I’ve seen those eyes before—they’re the ones I’m haunted by every morning when I look in the mirror. An intense agony living just below the surface, an ocean of pain begging to be released.
I place my hand on the window, struck with a desire to reach out to her. To see what could cause such a beautiful, adored thing to feel such grief.
For a moment, I wish I were down on the pavement right now to see her clearly. But then she’s being shuffled through the crowd and shoved into a long black limo by an angry, balding man. Her manager, I’m guessing.
Without a word of protest, the woman slides inside a second before the door slams shut, cutting her off from her adoring fans. It speeds away, and I’m left watching the empty spot with disappointment simmering in my chest.
Realizing how ridiculous I’m being, I scoff and shake my head, packing all my feelings into a neat little box.I’ll never see her again—whoever she is. I’ll never find out why her eyes look so sad. I’ll never be able to touch her. Hold her. There’s no use in wishing or wondering.
Enzo says something in the background, but I can’t quite make out the words as I down my whiskey, relishing the way it burns all the way to the pit of my stomach.
“Riot!”
I lower the empty glass to my side, unable to tear my eyes away from the street, even as the crowd disperses. “Yes,Enzo?”
He blows out a breath, irritation heating the air around him. “You weren’t listening.”
It’s not a question, but I still shake my head.
I can hear Enzo grinding his teeth from across the room. “Can you at leastactlike you give a damn about your career? Hell, how about your ownlife?”
I finally tear my eyes away from the sidewalk, shoving thoughts of the beautiful woman to the back of my mind as I meet my manager’s glare with a mocking smirk. “Nope,” I say, popping the “p.” “Can’t do it. Not for anyone. Not even you, dear Enzo. I just don’t have the heart for it since Pa died.”
“Such a fucking idiot,” he grumbles under his breath. Enzo stomps over to the bar cart. Liquid splashes against the crystal, and the tumbler is raised to his lips in a heavily scarred, shaking hand. He takes a single swallow, and it's gone.
“Take it easy on the liver, old man.”
Enzo slams the glass down, causing the bottom to shatter. “Why?” he growls. “Why would you say something so… sostupid? Are you trying to kill me? Are you trying to get me to killyou?”
