Page 4

RIOT

I sat on the edge of the king-sized bed in the presidential suite of a five-star hotel, legs slightly parted, cigar in one hand, the other resting on the back of Shari’s head while she sucked me like she knew she was on borrowed time.

She wasn’t new. I’d been with her many times.

Her body was fire, mouth even better, and she always pulled up when I hit her line.

No questions. No complaints. Just loyalty disguised as lust. I knew she wanted more—always dropping hints about us “being official”, about settling down, about how good we looked together.

But I wasn’t the settling type.

Especially not with her.

Right now, she was on her knees, moaning intensely like sucking me off turned her on. Eyes heavy with want, tongue slick and practiced. She cupped my balls like she was cradling gold.

And still, I wasn’t satisfied.

She was doing the most—gagging, slurping, letting spit trail down her chin and drip onto her tits. Her hair was wild, makeup smudged, lipstick faded. She looked like a porn fantasy, and still… I felt nothing.

Just tension in my shoulders. Weight in my chest. Pressure behind my eyes.

Running the business with Creed had me under pressure. He played the clean CEO, press-friendly and polished. I handled the grit. The black-market connections. The contracts we couldn’t file on paper. Add in the vineyard, and I was balancing the future of our empire on my back.

And then there was Mama. She’d fallen apart after the truth about Pops came out.

Couldn’t eat. Couldn’t work. Just wandered the house like a ghost haunted by guilt.

Said she needed time, before she would return back to the company.

Looking after has been a full time job in its self.

Her mind seemed like it was going, so the siblings all agreed that we would hire her a nurse.

I tried not to carry it all, but I always did.

And now here I was, in a luxury suite, with a woman who would’ve done anything for me—on her knees, trying to make me forget.

But she wasn’t her .

My mind kept going back to the girl Boaz called The Virgin.

That scent. That face. That energy.

She didn’t speak a word to me, but I felt her in every cell of my body.

She looked at me like she knew me. Like she wanted out.

And I couldn’t stop thinking about getting her free.

I needed to create a plan. But I needed to get back on the compound.

I didn’t see as much of it as I’d like. Security was tight.

He had enough guards on the compound but me and my people can take them out.

The problem is getting to them before they could prepare.

I didn’t know what security system they used.

It definitely isn’t the one we provide. I’d figure it out because I needed to free her. As well as those other girls.

Shari sucked harder, deeper, making little whimpering noises for my ego. She thought she was pulling something out of me.

She wasn’t.

I looked down at her, slid a hand across her jawline, and said nothing. Just watched her work while my mind stayed stuck on someone else.

Someone I hadn’t even touched yet.

And somehow, she had a hold on me that this woman never would.

It was early afternoon by the time Shari finished.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, still breathing heavy, proud like she just put in real work.

I stood up, stretched, and walked over to the window with my cigar, looking down at the city like it was mine.

The suite smelled like sex and smoke, but the tension in my chest hadn’t eased one bit.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. When I looked over I saw that it was my brother Creed.

I picked up on the third ring.

“What’s good?” I said, voice still rough.

“You didn’t forget, did you?” he asked.

“Forget what?”

“The tailor, bruh. Two hours. We’re getting fitted.”

I grunted, dragging smoke into my lungs. “Damn. That’s today?”

“Yes, nigga , it’s today,” Creed snapped. “We’re getting married in a month. You act like this shit’s not real.”

I smirked. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll be there.”

“Don’t be late.”

He hung up before I could respond.

I sat back down on the edge of the bed, tapping ash into a tray as Shari crawled up beside me. Still naked, still glowing like she thought she had a real chance with me.

She looked over, brushing hair out of her face. “Let me go with you to the wedding.”

I laughed. Hard.

“Hell nah.”

She blinked, then tilted her head. “Why not? You takin’ somebody else?”

I looked her dead in the face, grin fading. “Nah. I ain’t takin’ nobody. Especially not you.”

Her smile dropped. “Wow. You didn’t have to say it like that.”

I shrugged, unfazed. “We fuck. That’s it. I don’t do dates. I don’t do relationships. And I sure as hell don’t bring nobody around my family.”

Her expression twisted, offended but trying not to show it. “We’ve been messing around for months, Riot.”

“And?” I said, eyes sharp. “You want a prize or somethin’? You suck my dick good. You know how to ride. Cool. But this ain’t goin’ no further than that. Don’t start getting ideas just ‘cause I let you spend a little time in my suite.”

“You won’t even let me come to your house.”

“Exactly,” I snapped. “That’s my house. You should feel lucky I take you on shopping sprees and let you suck my dick in five-star hotels. That’s more than most bitches get.”

She sat up fast, grabbing her clothes off the chair. “You’re a fucking asshole.”

“I been told you that.”

She yanked her dress over her head and struggled to zip it, hands shaking. “You don’t have to treat me like I’m nothing.”

I didn’t respond right away. Just made my way to the bed and leaned back on the pillows, arms behind my head, watching her like a movie I’d already seen.

It wasn’t that I hated women.

I just didn’t trust ‘em.

Not after what happened with first and only girlfriend ever, Malia.

That bitch damn near ended me.

Nah. I’ll never trust another woman the way I trusted her.

The only woman I trust now is my mama, and sometimes I wonder about her.

Shari grabbed her heels, face red, lips trembling. “You don’t even like me. You just use me.”

I smiled. “We’re both getting something out of it.”

She stormed toward the door, heels in her hand, muttering something under her breath.

Just before she pulled it open, I called out, “Same time next week?”

She hesitated for half a second.

Then slammed the door behind her.

I laughed, shaking my head, reaching for my phone and texting my driver.

That was the thing about women like her.

They always come back.

After Shari stormed out, I took my time getting up, showered off the remnants of her neediness, and threw on something clean. Black tee. Designer jeans. Wrist heavy. Cologne sharp. I liked the man looking back at me in the mirror. Still standing. Still solid.

I slid into the backseat of my black SUV and headed to the tailor. We were getting fitted for Creed’s wedding—something I still couldn’t believe was actually happening. My big bro, the coldest, most calculated nigga I knew, was finally about to jump the broom. Hell must’ve froze.

The tailor’s shop was tucked off a quiet street in Manhattan, appointment-only, champagne-on-arrival type shit. I stepped in and immediately spotted the crew.

Creed stood by the fitting platform, arms crossed, already halfway into his tux. Havoc sat in the corner, scrolling on his phone, face unreadable. Our cousins—KC and Rollo—were posted up near the window, talking shit and laughing about something wild from last weekend.

“Look who decided to finally show up,” Creed said, giving me that classic big brother smirk.

I smirked right back. “I’ve been busy, but I ain’t missin’ this.”

KC grinned. “Ain’t this some shit. Creed gettin’ married. Whole damn city about to be shook.”

“Facts,” Rollo added. “Never thought we’d see the day. Thought this nigga was married to the grind.”

Creed shrugged, but I could see the pride in his eyes. “Still am. I’ll just have two wives now.”

I clapped him on the back. “Nah, you did good. Sloane a real one. Smart. Sharp. Don’t take your shit.

You need that.” I really did like Sloane.

Seeing the way she improved my brother’s life touched me.

There were fleeting moments when I wanted something like that for myself, but I couldn’t bring myself to ever letting another woman in. I wasn’t even sure if I deserved it.

He nodded once. “I know.”

Everyone was in good spirits. Laughing. Talking tux styles. Matching accessories. Shit felt like a celebration already. The room was loud with energy—until it wasn’t.

Havoc had been quiet the whole time, barely glancing up from his phone.

Then outta nowhere, he snapped.

The energy in the tailor’s shop shifted the second Havoc opened his mouth.

“Y’all really leave me out of everything, huh?”

The room went quiet, like somebody hit the mute button. KC stopped laughing. Rollo froze mid-sip of champagne. Even Creed paused, staring like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

I turned toward Havoc, already feeling heat crawl up my spine. “The fuck you talkin’ about?”

Havoc stood up from the corner, slow, dramatic.

His whole posture changed. “I’m talkin’ about this whole damn wedding.

You’re the best man. I didn’t even get a consideration.

I’m talkin’ about the company. About the family.

I’ve always been on the outside. Pops treated me like I barely existed, and you two carried that shit on like it was your birthright. ”

The reality was, Pops was hard on all of us.

Havoc wasn’t special. Yeah, maybe Pops didn’t give him as much attention as he gave me and Creed—but honestly, he should feel lucky for that.

It wasn’t until Creed met Sloane that I realized that nigga straight up abused us.

He wasn’t just hard. He was calculated. Cruel. He tortured us.

He’s part of the reason I never believed I deserved love. Made me do something so unforgivable, I still can’t look at myself the same.

But Havoc? He didn’t live with us. He was spared.

He didn’t have to play Russian roulette for punishment.

Pops didn’t lock him in a dungeon with a chained-up hyena, barely five inches away.

Any closer and that wild mutt would’ve ripped me to pieces.

That was how Pops got down. Sick games. Psychological warfare. Straight-up torture.

So what the fuck was Havoc even talking about?

Creed stepped forward, his voice low and calm. “You doing too much, bruh. You’ve always had a seat at the table.”

“Bullshit,” Havoc snapped. “You made Riot your best man. You two move like a unit and I’m just the spare. And don’t even get me started on your mother—Tessa never wanted me around. She made that clear from day one.”

My jaw flexed. My hands balled into fists.

“She didn’t let him see me ‘til I was ten,” Havoc went on, bitter. “She was so busy playin’ the perfect wife, protectin’ Silas, pretending like she ain’t know what he was really about. But she knew. Ain’t no way a woman that deep in a man’s world don’t know what’s goin’ on.”

Creed’s voice dropped another octave. “Watch it, Havoc.”

But I didn’t wait.

I moved.

Fast.

Closed the space between us and cracked him in the face, clean across the jaw with a right hook that sent him stumbling back into the mirror that cracked. It shook on the wall from the force.

He looked stunned for a second. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

“Say my mother’s name again,” I growled, stepping up on him, breathing hard. “Say it and I’ll break your fuckin’ jaw next.”

Havoc wiped the blood off his lip, eyes blazing. “Fuck you, Riot.”

He pushed off the mirror and grabbed his jacket, storming out of the shop without looking back.

The door slammed behind him.

Nobody said shit.

KC looked like he wanted to say something but thought better of it. Rollo kept sipping like nothing happened, but even he was tense. Creed exhaled through his nose and sat down in the nearest chair.

“You didn’t have to hit him,” he said quietly.

I stared at the door Havoc walked out of, chest still rising and falling.

“Yeah, I did. That nigga got disrespectful.”

“You can’t keep solving your problems like this. You gotta grow up, Riot,” Creed said as he shook his head and walked away.

I’d been so wound up, my fist flying into Havoc’s face was the first thing that loosened the knot in my chest.

Felt good. Too good.

But as Creed walked away, shaking his head like I was some wild animal he didn’t know what to do with, I felt it.

That hollow echo in my chest. The part of me that still remembered being locked in the dark with a monster five inches away. The part of me that didn’t know how to be anything but dangerous.

And even though it felt good to hit him, I knew Creed was right.

I needed to grow the fuck up.

I just didn’t know how.