But she already knew.
She was slipping deeper into Rio’s world… and loving every second of it.
Electric Karma Salon looked like something out of a dream. Floor-to-ceiling windows let the L.A. sun pour in over sleek marble floors and softly humming crystal chandeliers. A gold-plated sign with her nameMrs. Riotsat at the front desk like they’d been expecting her forever.
She walked in, still a little breathless, and gave her name. The receptionist smiled warmly. “Welcome, Mrs. Riot. Right this way.”
The name hit her again. Mrs. Riot.
Was it a joke? A slip? Or something Rio had said on purpose just to mess with her head?
She didn’t have long to wonder within minutes, she was ushered into a private VIP suite lined with plush white leather chairs and walls of glimmering mosaic tile. A full glam squad was already waiting.
First came the hair. A stylist with silver rings stacked on every finger gently ran his hands through her strands. “Let’s bring out your wild side,” he said, winking.
They gave her a fresh cut, long layers with volume and soft, tousled waves that made her look like she’d stepped off a music video set. Then came the deep shine gloss that left her hair gleaming like molten chocolate under the lights.
Makeup was next, dewy skin, a sultry smoky eye with flecks of shimmer, and a rich, fire-colored lip that made her feel like she could burn a man alive with just a kiss.
Her nails? Long, sculpted almond tips painted in a glossy black lacquer and studded with tiny silver stones, edgy, but elegant. Rock star wife material.
By the time they turned her around to face the full mirror, Kylee hardly recognized herself. Her breath caught in her throat.
She looked dangerous. Desirable. Alive. No one has ever done this for me,she thought. As she stepped out of the salon and slid into the sleek black car waiting at the curb, she checked her reflection one last time in the rearview mirror.
“Mrs. Riot,” she whispered. And for the first time, it didn’t sound so crazy.
The car pulled into a private back entrance of the venue, guarded and cordoned off from the buzzing chaos of L.A.’s nightlife. The sun was just beginning to dip, casting streaks of gold and purple across the skyline as her driver stepped out and opened the door.
As Kylee stepped out of the car, her glossy, freshly styled hair cascading down her back, the sun caught the glitter on her knee-high boots. The skin-tight leather bodysuit hugged every curve like it was made just for her and in a way, it was. The anticipation of the night ahead shimmered in the air like static.
Rio turned the corner from the dressing area, mid-conversation with one of his crew, but the second he saw her, he stopped cold.
“Holy shit…” he muttered under his breath, eyes wide. He took a few slow steps forward, his gaze sweeping from her heels to her lips like he didn’t know where to look first. “You look…fuck, Kylee.. You look beautiful.”
She smiled, trying to steady the heat rising in her cheeks, playing it cool. “They called me Mrs. Riot at the salon, any idea why?” she said casually, her voice teasing.
He grinned, stepping closer until there was barely a breath between them. “It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?” he said, his voice low and rough.
Kylee’s breath caught in her throat as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re gunna be the sexiest thing in this building tonight,” he said. “And that’s saying something because I’m in it.”
Backstage was buzzing with energy, staff with clipboards darting around, techs adjusting sound levels, and makeup artists doing last-minute touch-ups. But for Kylee, the chaos felt distant. She had a seat just off to the side of the meet-and-greet area, clearly marked “Reserved,” tucked near the shadows but in perfect view of the action.
Rio had placed her there intentionally.
She crossed her legs, slowly, feeling the leather of her bodysuit tighten just a bit, as she watched him move through the crowd of waiting fans. He had changed into his pre-show outfit black ripped jeans, boots, and a distressed band tee with the sleeves cut off. Sexy without trying, confident without arrogance.
What struck her more than his appearance was the way he handled the meet and greet. It was nothing like hers in New Orleans. He kept his distance from his female fans. He shook hands, quick, polite, impersonal. No hugs. No flirty smirks. No whispered compliments. Certainly no hand grazing across a waist like he had done with her. These girls were ecstatic just to be near him, and yet he didn’t even glance their way the way he had once looked at her.
Rio’s eyes found Kylee through the crowd more than once, and every time they did, it was like a silent conversation passed between them. A look that said: This is different. You’re different.
A blonde in a tight top leaned in a little too close for a selfie, and Rio subtly stepped back. He gave her a casual smile, but his eyes flicked toward Kylee again, almost like he was making a point.
Kylee felt it in her stomach, the power, the tension, the shift. She was no longer the fan. She was the one he made space for.
As the last fan moved on and the room cleared, he made his way straight to her like she was the only thing that mattered now. Rio turned toward Kylee, his eyes gleaming with purpose and something deeper.
The pulsing bass of his walk-out song started to rumble through the floor beneath them. The crowd outside roared like thunder, their chants of“Rio! Rio!”echoing in the wings of the arena.
