Page 53 of Riot’s Revenge

Somewhere in the clubhouse, a woman laughed, breathy and familiar.

Brandi.

Every nerve ending in my body went cold.

Ghost stepped forward slightly. “Maria, wait⁠—”

But I was already moving. The hallway blurred around me while my heartbeat pounded louder and louder with every step. No . . . I was being ridiculous. Brandi was probably just talking to him. Dancing. Flirting with somebody else.

Then I heard Riot laugh and the sound hit me so hard I physically stopped walking, because I knew that laugh. Knew exactly what he sounded like when he was relaxed and turned on and comfortable.

I was overreacting. Riot probably had Brandi cornered about club business or . . .

She moaned softly, and every stupid hopeful thought in my head died instantly.

The door to one of the back rooms sat partially open beneath dim yellow light. Before my brain could stop me, I looked inside.

Everything inside me shattered.

Brandi was naked, in Riot’s lap, facing him while she rode him slowly, her back arched as his mouth closed around her breast. One large hand gripped her bare hip hard enough to leave faint marks against her skin while the other held her steady against him, guiding her movements like he knew her body well.

“Take it all,” he murmured roughly against her skin before dragging his mouth higher along her neck.

“Harder VP,” Brandi moaned.

I froze. My head screamed at me to turn around and leave, but I couldn’t move. All I could think about were the nights I’d sat in his lap exactly the same way while he touched me like I was the only woman he saw. I knew those hands, knew how they felt against my skin, how they steadied me afterward and curled around my hips when he slept, and how unexpectedly gentle they could be when nobody else was looking.

For one horrible second, my brain refused to process what I was seeing, because those same touches between us were supposed to mean something. Weren’t they?

Brandi noticed me first, her eyes meeting mine in the mirror above the bed. The color drained from her face instantly, and her movements stopped abruptly. Riot frowned slightly at the interruption before finally looking toward the doorway.

Irritation crossed his face, sharp and instinctive, but confusion followed almost immediately when he saw me standing there. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

The words cut straight through me, and my heart stopped beating for a moment as pain gripped it and rose into my throat.

Brandi scrambled off his lap, grabbing for her top and skirt while Riot sat forward slowly and shoved himself back into his jeans. Confusion darkened his face as he finally took me in properly, his eyes tracking over whatever devastation was written all over mine.

The room smelled like sex, whiskey, and cigarettes. A condom wrapper glinted near the couch while Brandi stood clutching her shirt against flushed skin and smeared lipstick, evidence of what I’d interrupted still clinging to them both.

My eyes burned so badly, I had to force myself not to look away. “How long?” I whispered.

Riot frowned harder. “What?”

“How long have you been sleeping with her?”

Brandi silently backed toward the bathroom.

Riot roughly dragged a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ.”

The frustration in his voice hurt more than anger would have. He sounded like it had suddenly become difficult instead of devastating, and something inside my chest cracked as every moment between us replayed itself differently in my head—the apartment, the late nights, the food after shifts, the way Riot reached for me half asleep, and the way everyone in the club had started treating me like I belonged beside him. Apparently, none of it had meant what I thought it did.

Riot stood slowly. “Maria.” His voice had changed, less irritated and more cautious, but it was already too late.

“You let me move into your home,” I whispered.

I caught a flicker of real uncertainty on Riot’s face before he buried it beneath defensiveness so quickly, I almost thought I imagined it. “It wasn’t like that.”

A broken laugh escaped me before I could stop it as humiliation burned hot beneath my skin. Not like that. God, I felt stupid.