Riot Hearts: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Saints of Crow Book 1) Read online

  He was like a black hole, sucking the life out of me but at the same time, my skin burned and prickled whenever he looked my way. He set me on fire. I didn’t know how else to explain it.

  He made me feel alive.

  River was a tough nut to crack. His brothers too, for that matter. His whole family, even. When I thought about it, no one really knew much about them. They stuck to themselves.

  After a long flight, we landed in New York. A driver was waiting for us and took us to our hotel.

  “Here’s the key for your suite. I hope you enjoy your stay with us,” the receptionist said, handing River the key card.

  “Your suite?” River repeated.

  “I’m sorry?” The lady looked confused.

  “There’s only one suite booked?”

  The lady glanced over her screen to double-check. “Yes, sir. Is there a problem?”

  “No,” he gritted out. “Not at all.”

  Ah great. Now I had to live with him as well? The universe was seriously testing me.

  “Hope you have a nice stay.”

  River grunted something under his breath as we left the reception.

  “We can split the suite so we don’t have to be up in each other’s spaces,” I suggested in the elevator. That idea was soon torn into pieces when I had a look around our room.

  “Seriously?” I deadpanned. “We get a suite, but there’s still only one bed and only chairs in the living room?” I stared into the bedroom with a king-sized bed in the middle.

  River came up behind me with a smirk on his face. “Feel free to sleep on the floor if you want.”

  There was the gentleman again.

  “We can build a wall of pillows between us or something.”

  River laughed and I turned to scowl at him. “Are we in middle school or something?” He mocked the way I’d asked him the same thing at the board meeting. “Relax, Nightmare. I’ll keep my hands off you,” he assured for the second time.

  Ignoring him, I set my suitcase down on the right side of the bed, closest to the bathroom. River went to the other side and sat his suitcase down before fingering his tie, loosening it. With a swift movement, he pulled his tie off and unbuttoned his shirt with impressive speed. His white shirt slid off his broad shoulders, exposing smooth skin and bulked muscle underneath.

  “Why are you glaring at me? You want to lick my abs?”

  I hadn’t even noticed I was staring. “I was hoping you’d catch fire.”

  River chuckled. “Right, I get it. Because I’m that hot?”

  I tipped my head to the side and feigned a smile. Yeah, that was totally it.

  As River continued to undress in front of me, I zipped open my suitcase and searched for clothes. I hated how dirty traveling made me feel.

  “It’s late,” River said. “I’m ordering room service. Do you want anything?”

  I was surprised he had even asked, but I didn’t point it out. I needed us to get along. If we didn’t, everything would be twice as hard.

  “Yes, actually.” Scooping some clothes into my arm, I walked over to the desk next to the fireplace in the living room and picked up the menu.

  “I’ll have the chicken Alfredo.” It reminded me of Gabriel’s birthday when we’d always make chicken Alfredo together as a family. My heart clenched painfully, and I swallowed hard.

  “Fine,” he mumbled, picking up the phone to order.

  I disappeared into the bathroom, showered quickly, and changed into my silk pajama set. I entered the living room at the same time as room service knocked on the door.

  “Put the food there,” River said, pointing at the table in the living room. The piccolo, a young guy, nodded and put the tray down.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy want you to enjoy your stay. The dinner is on them.”

  “Thank you,” River said with a polite nod. It was so fascinating to see him act like such a well-behaved gentleman.

  Mr. and Mrs. Abernathy… I vaguely remembered them as some of the people we were meeting for breakfast tomorrow. They owned a hotel chain—including the one we stayed at—and they were acquaintances of River’s family.

  I had already prepared my food and was ready to eat when River sat in the chair opposite mine. For the most part we ate in silence, but it was awkward.

  “So, how was your day?”

  He arched a brow at me before shaking his head as if he were ridding himself of a thought. “I thought we established we didn’t particularly like each other’s presence.”

  I frowned. “Excuse me for trying to be civilized and making the best out of this situation.”

  River sighed, pausing as he rested the fork on his plate. “Fine. How was your day, darling?”

  I wanted to be so mad, but the obvious fake smile only made me snicker. “You’re impossible.”

  At that, he didn’t answer. As we continued to eat, I studied his face—his features. I always knew he was attractive, but with a slight scruff and the top two buttons of his shirt opened, he took that to a whole other level. The black hair and blue eyes had always intrigued me, but there was much more to his face. And his beauty seemed enhanced in the dim light. His cheekbones were cut like sharp diamonds, his skin glowing like one. His lips looked so soft, and it made me think of the kiss. That damn kiss was still haunting me.

  “You’re staring,” he remarked dryly, not even bothering to tease.

  “I was just wondering about your heritage,” I lied and hoped he believed me. “You have exotic features.” I was telling half the truth.

  His eyebrows lifted in enticement before he answered, “I have Italian and Spanish heritage. I think some Middle Eastern as well, but I’m not entirely sure.”

  “Che impressionante,” I said in fluent Italian. How impressive.

  I studied a lot of languages as a kid. Most people in St. Crow knew at least two languages, and I knew four.

  “Beh, se non parla Italiano,” River said back. His eyes narrowed in challenge, but a smirk played on his lips.

  Well, if he doesn’t speak Italian… “¿Supongo que también hablas Español?” I guess you speak Spanish, too.

  “Por supuesto.” Of course.

  “Qu'en est-il du Français?” What about French?

  His face fell slightly and surprise coated his features. My eyebrows lifted. “Wait, you don’t know French?”

  Pressing his lips together, he looked embarrassed and I laughed. But deep down, it looked like he wanted to smile, and I found myself smiling. This was fun.

  “Well. You’re impressive,” he said, but his eyebrows lifted as if he didn’t think so. I knew he tried to play it cool, but he wasn’t managing to do so.

  “Well, you’re not. You don’t know French,” I mocked. Reaching forward, I placed my hand on his chin and pulled his lips into a pout. I laughed.

  My heart jumped when he grabbed my wrist, slowly pulling it away from his face. Something in his eyes sparkled, but I couldn’t help but notice how gentle he was. His touch was feather light, almost caressing my wrist. I almost wanted to twist my hand so I could feel his hand on mine.

  “I know lots of other things,” he said, his lips twitching. Something in his voice sounded a lot like a promise to show me.

  My heart picked up an unsteady beat. “Show me.”

  “One day.” A promise.

  Our conversation died out, but I didn’t mind the silence. Sometimes with him the silence could be awkward because I tensed, but tonight I didn’t mind.

  “The food was good,” I said as we threw away the leftovers.

  River sucked his teeth, looking like he was debating whether to entertain my silly attempt at a conversation or not. “I prefer homecooked,” he said eventually.

  “Really?” I cocked a brow in surprise. “You don’t strike me as a guy who cooks.”

  “Well, we don’t know each other very well.”

  “True. Not that you care, but I prefer homecooked as well. My mom and dad both enjoyed cooking, and when w
e had the time, all four of us would spend hours in our kitchen making a meal together.”

  I didn’t know why I suddenly spoke about them, but it was more thinking out loud than anything. Maybe I missed talking about them. The cooking might be the thing I had missed most since they died, but that, I didn’t tell River. He looked uninterested as it was.

  He was staring down at his food, and I studied his features. His gaze was empty, but he didn’t look bored, just lost in thought. Maybe even sad. I didn’t think he meant to show it, but he did. I didn’t ask.

  After throwing away the food, I went to the bathroom and brushed my teeth. It was late and I was tired, and I sank down under the duvet. River went in the bathroom, and I heard the shower turn on. After a while it turned off and a few minutes later, he returned with nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Water droplets glistened over his sculpted abs and broad shoulders. The dimples under his collarbones made my eyes widen.

  Why couldn’t he be ugly? I almost gasped when he dropped the towel. On reflex, I looked away and he chuckled darkly.

  I knew it was just nudity—natural—honestly, I didn’t care, but I didn’t want to look. I might be tempted.

  Why? Why couldn’t he be ugly?

  “Keep to your side of the bed, I mean it,” I said, staring at him once he’d gotten some briefs on and slipped under the sheets himself.

  “I won’t try to feel you up in my sleep,” he muttered, sounding offended and his eyes hardened. “I have more class.”

  Straightening my back, I breathed out. “As long as we’re on the same page.”

  He snorted, his eyes met mine, and my heart leapt. “We might be on the same page, but we’re reading different books,” he said casually.

  Because I didn’t understand him and I was too tired to even attempt to make sense of his statement, I only said, “Goodnight, River.”

  Our eyes locked, and his teasing voice was soft. “Night, Nightmare.”

  A breakfast with our connections from the New York elite was on the agenda for our first full day in New York. I had to make a good impression. First impressions either made people or broke people. I’d been told the dress code was casual, and I went for a teal jumpsuit.

  When I came out of the bathroom, I was met with widened eyes and slightly parted lips that soon pressed together as he schooled his features. River sat in the chair near the door, eyes traveling over me. He left the buttons on his black blazer open, raising to his full height so he was towering almost a head taller than me.

  “You look okay. Let’s go,” he said before he turned, but I was locked in place.

  Did he actually kind of compliment me without being sarcastic?

  This was not the River who had been testing me for the last six weeks.

  “Relax, Nightmare.” His tone made it clear he knew exactly what I was thinking. “I’m just glad you can dress. If you couldn’t, it would reflect poorly on me as your partner.”

  Partner.

  That was one word I thought I’d never use about River. We had never been partners; we weren’t on the same side. Except, now we were.

  At least we pretended to be.

  River and I kept exchanging glances during the taxi ride to the restaurant, though we didn’t speak much.

  Arriving at the five-star establishment, the butler showed us to a round table where the entire company was already waiting. The restaurant screamed black-tie with red flooring, chandeliers, classical music, and fancy cutlery.

  All the people rose from their seats when we came over.

  “Mr. Sinclair. Your father said you were coming.” One of the elderly men shook River’s hand firmly. River nodded at him. “Who’s your friend?”

  I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I hated that I wasn’t my own person at this table; I was only River’s plus-one.

  River turned to me and gestured with his hand. His lips were firm but his eyes sparkled. “This is Emory, the daughter of newly deceased Frank—"

  “And Martha Lauder,” the man finished for him, already shouldering past River, who stifled a growl. “I’ve heard a lot about your family, Ms. Emory. I give you my deepest condolences.”

  He grabbed my hand and shook it before placing a kiss against my knuckles. Shivers ran down my spine.

  They were both cold and had that something in the corner of the eye that gave me chills.

  “Thank you. It’s nice to meet you…?”

  “Arnold Curtz.”

  Even his name gave me shivers. He was the prototype for a misogynistic man, but I guess I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. He knew my parents, and I wanted to make them proud.

  “Mr. Curtz.” I gave a polite nod before I looked at River, whose eyes had lingered on me the entire time. I scowled at him, trying to make him look away but he didn’t.

  Mr. Curtz turned back to River and kept talking business I didn’t understand because it all had to do with Sinclair Corp. All the while, I was amused to watch River behave himself like a proper human being. Some would even call him a gentleman.

  I knew better, of course. I knew it was a façade he kept up. I knew how to do that, too.

  When they finished talking, River introduced me to the rest of the entourage, and my cheeks hurt from forcing a smile for so long. I didn’t get to introduce myself once. River got the honors every damn time. I was like his trophy wife. I barely got in any names, and I would have an even bigger struggle connecting the right name to the right face.

  I hated how everyone turned to River for the final word, but I guess the business world hadn’t caught up to the fact that we were, in fact, in the twenty-first century.

  We sat down, and River was to my left and a few ladies were to my right. Next to River sat a few of the other men.

  Drinks were served, and I only had water because the restaurant couldn’t serve me as a minor. As soon as the attention wasn’t on me or River, I downed his entire glass of red wine. It tasted bitter and I grimaced.

  When I looked at River, his eyes narrowed and he looked at me accusingly. Slowly his gaze went pointedly to his empty wine glass. I shrugged. If I was going to survive this breakfast, I needed some alcohol and since he could do nothing useful, the least he could do was be my alcohol supplier. Apparently no one even cared that there was still a few months left until he turned twenty-one.

  As the meals were served, River discussed business with the other men while the women dragged me into fluffy, empty conversation. I got to talk about my double major, my hobbies, my outfit, and my family. The ladies talked non-stop. I never got to hijack the business discussion happening at the other end of the table.

  River looked so amused, I forced myself to pretend I enjoyed myself so he wouldn’t see how miserable I was. I didn’t want him to have the satisfaction.

  “Are you bored?” he asked in a teasing tone as his breath tickled my ear.

  I clenched my teeth together and he chuckled almost inaudibly.

  “You are,” he stated with hundred percent certainty.

  “Don’t look so smug. You think I’m nothing more than clothes and makeup, don’t you? You’re glad I don’t say shit to embarrass you, right?”

  His grin fell slightly and his brows furrowed. “No. I think you have a lot of valuable stuff to add to the conversation, which is why I enjoy seeing you squirm because you never get to tell.”

  It would be an understatement to say he took me by surprise with his answer. I hadn’t seen that coming. Of course, he couldn’t spare himself that last comment, but that didn’t come as a surprise.

  “I hate you,” I muttered, crossing my arms and sinking farther down in my seat.

  “Hate you more,” he whispered with a wink.

  My momentary loss of face was cut short when one of the women spoke again. I think it was Mrs. Abernathy—the wife of the owner of the hotel we stayed at. “So, Emory, I overheard the gents talking about how you two don’t have any plans for the day. A few of us are going to tea and then tennis.
We’d love if you’d join us.” I was about to either decline or drown myself in the toilet before she added, “River must come too, of course.”

  I willed myself not to smirk as I answered, “We would love to join you. Right, River?” I nudged his shoulder. His head turned our way, his jaw clenching and unclenching rhythmically. His lips were firm, and his skin was slightly flushed. He glanced at me with hardened eyes before he looked at the ladies waiting in anticipation.

  “Of course,” he ground out. “We’d hate to miss it, wouldn’t we, Emory?”

  “Mhm. Hate to.”

  I resisted the urge to laugh out loud and instead, settled with a smirk and a wink to River no one could see because I had my back to them.

  There were few things I wanted less than to meet up with trophy wives who drank tea together, but as Emory’s partner, canceling wasn’t an option. They would see it as rude, and then my father would never let me hear the end of it. I could already hear him shout at me for even slightly tarnishing the Sinclair name. What an overreaction it would be, but it wasn’t worth the trouble.

  So, there I was, dressed in black slacks and a white T-shirt, holding Emory’s hand as I helped her out of the yellow cab. Only because the restaurant had a huge front window, and there was a chance our entourage was watching us.

  If there was one thing I was grateful for, it was that Emory did, in fact, know how to dress. If she couldn’t read the dress codes, I’d have to stress around like a babysitter making sure she didn’t embarrass me with her outfit. But she looked smart-casual in her teal jumpsuit that wrapped around her upper body and bottoms that flared out. She’d put on a gold necklace, matching sunglasses, and a beige blazer hung over her shoulders.

  Once she was out of the cab, I held out my arm for her because that was expected, but instead of linking her hand with my arm, Emory brushed past me. She shoved the sunglasses to the top of her head as the doorman opened the door for her.

  She didn’t look nineteen, and that fact alone ground on my nerves.

  Why did she always need to be… more?