CHAPTER 54
Riven
Bad Romance – Lady Gaga
The studio is completely packed. An event offering a free piercing with every tattoo is in full swing.
I keep getting texts on my comm from Evren. That bastard took it and changed his contact’s name from Unknown to My Fav Monster—a child.
I slammed a pan into his face for it, he laughed, but I didn't bother changing it back.
I rub the bridge of my nose, he is insufferable.
I’m in the break area near Charlie’s reception, just a black couch and a coffee table.
I slip my comm back into my pocket, ignore him, and go back to work.
Charlie is handing out goodies to the waiting clients, offering water or juice to everyone in line—that’s what I’m talking about when I say customer service.
While Jules is currently piercing someone's elbow.
I will never get used to the fact that people genuinely love getting piercings on body parts that aren't exactly meant to have them.
But taste is taste.
I sit back down at my station, clean it, and prepare everything for my next client.
I don't know why the hell I decided to hold this event. Probably to give the studio more visibility—and it worked.
Even though we were already pretty popular for our authenticity, I wasn't expecting this many people.
We kept the door open because that fucking entry chime drove me crazy after the first fifty clients walked in and out.
The buzzing of my machine, mixed with the chatter of people and Charlie calling out names, makes the studio loud enough that if someone farted, we wouldn't hear it.
I don't know why I'm this weird. I'm tattooing a gothic centipede on someone's forearm, and I'm thinking about people farting.
And I'd be offended if they farted in my studio.
“Ow!” my client yelps. “It's sensitive here. Are you dumb, woman?”
Dumb.
Woman.
I could tattoo a damn dick on your forehead, and you're talking to me like shit.
“Yeah?” I lift my head, my eyes meeting his. “My bad. I thought, since you're a grown-ass man, it wouldn't hurt.”
A sneer twists my lips directed at him before I return to work.
He opens his mouth, then closes it again and looks away.
That's what I thought.
The beep of my door pad telling me I can enter my own loft—the one I bought—after a twelve-hour shift makes my brain switch from exhausted and aching to having a deep urge to rip the damn thing out.
I’m the owner, obviously I can enter my own fucking home.
Stupid technology.
I toss my boots into the loft, toss my comm on the furniture at the entrance and walk to my open kitchen to grab a bottle of cold water without telling my apartment to turn the lights on.
I have two options—either I turn them on manually or use a voice command. But after spending twelve hours under harsh lights, the darkness doesn't seem so bad.
I walk to my couch and slump on it face first, grunting.
I hit something hard and not my couch at all.
I pat with my free hand and feel warmth and… a nose?
“What the hell?!” I hurry to my feet.
Ready to throw hands, I brace myself.
“Took you long enough.”
This tone, this voice, I know it.
And I forgot he was here and broke in—again.
“E-Evren?!” I relax, but not completely. “You could've turned on the damn lights! You're creepy, sitting in the dark like this!”
He chuckles, and in the darkness, it somehow sounds even creepier.
“Who else?” He opens his eyes, and the glow in the dark, fixed on me, is creepy. “You didn't turn on the lights either.”
I open my mouth, but nothing comes out.
“Well…” I start, but I have absolutely no argument. “Had a rough day.”
“You ignored me.” His voice turns flat. “I hate being ignored.”
“Get a grip.” I roll my eyes.
I feel his hand fist the fabric of my oversized T-shirt and yank me down onto him.
I let out a little scream of surprise at the sudden movement.
My chest is pressed fully against his, warm and solid.
“I got it.” I see his face coming closer. “What's the program?”
I scoff.
“There is no program, Evren.” I rest my free hand on his fist and try to uncurl his fingers. “I worked all day long. I'm exhausted.”
“So?”
“So, you need to leave.”
“No.”
“I'm not in the mood for your shit.” My voice drops, turning cold.
One of his hands slides and cups my ass cheek.
The feeling sends a jolt through my entire body.
I'm not in the damn mood, but it still makes my stomach twist and heat up.
I know he's about to speak because I feel his breath deepen against my face.
My comm buzzes.
Just in time.
I feel his muscles tensing beneath me.
“Lights on.” I order.
My loft illuminates instantly.
By the time my eyes adjust to the sudden brightness, I realize my mouth is practically pressed against Evren's nose.
Evren wiggles his eyebrows teasingly.
I sigh and push myself up.
I walk over to my comm, pick it up, and immediately tense.
“Who is it?” he growls.
I don't answer. I grit my teeth and swipe up to accept the call.
A video call.
My father appears, my mother beside him. Their holograms somehow make them look warmer than they are in reality.
“Riven,” my mother begins, “interesting choice of... attire.”
Her eyes sweep over my body—I’m wearing oversized pants with a fishnet top and a bra under.
I clench my fists.
“Hello to you too, Mother.”
“We're calling to invite you to the government's annual ball,” my father says. “So, I expect you to be... not you, Riven. This ball is an occasion to show society who the Laordies are, so you'd better behave, or I'll cut off your little tattoo project.”
I hear Evren stand up abruptly from the couch.
And here we go.
I swear I hate them more than I hate Evren. They're so... I don't even have the words.
I feel my chest tighten, rage flooding through my entire body, but before I can make a sound, a heavy hand clamps down on my hip.
“And I expect you to shut the fuck up,” Evren says from beside me. “Or I'll peel the skin off your faces and make masks out of it.”
My eyes widen in shock.
I was expecting him to do something, like break my comm.
He acts first usually, but I wasn't expecting him to tell my father to shut the fuck up and be that vivid.
He’s protecting me.
Is he?
My mother's hand flies to her mouth, and my father's eyes harden. If he could reach through the call, he'd shoot him on the spot.
“And who is that... person?” My mother's eyes narrow in the hologram, trying to regain composure.
“How dare you?” my father continues, his voice laced with contempt. “Riven, you'd better not show up with that specimen.”
My mind suddenly starts racing—the ball, the Central Authority. It means we can get easier access to their systems, maybe even hack them and finally get the answers I want about Kyle.
And he told me to use him as a tool, so that's exactly what I'm going to do.
I look up at Evren. He looks down at me and smirks.
“He's coming,” I say flatly, looking back at my parents' holograms.
The grip on my hip tightens painfully.
My parents' faces go from disdain to sheer shock at my audacity before hardening with fury.
“Riv—” My mother starts.
But before any of them can answer fully, I end the call.
As soon as it disconnects, Evren spins me around to face him and grips my cheeks hard with his other hand.
“What the fuck?” His voice drips with venom. “What do you think you're doing?”
“You're coming. End of discussion. We'll go shopping, get you a tuxedo,” I smirk, clearly pleased with myself.
“Shopping?” His voice drops dangerously. “You think I'd go shopping like some fucking girl?”
My gaze hardens.
“Yes,” I grab his jaw hard “You are, because you'll be able to hack the government servers.”
I pause.
“And you will for me.”
His expression shifts from disgust and anger to genuine interest to finally settle in a resigned sigh.
The change makes my heart skip a beat. It reminds me of the first time I saw that look—when he crashed Elyas and me, and I punched him for the first time.
“Fine,” His lips curl into a predatory smile, his voice smooth as velvet. “Fucking fine.”