Angel...

"Angel," Tryson called out, but before he could relish the moment, he heard a sharp scoff.

The warmth over his eyes vanished as the hands withdrew, and his brows furrowed.

Something was off.

Turning swiftly, his expression darkened the moment his gaze landed on the last person he expected.

"Riley?" His voice was cold, sharp enough to cut through the air between them.

But Riley only responded with a wide, knowing smile, her confidence unfazed by his icy tone.

She stepped closer, her fingers grazing his chest as she tilted her head up to meet his glare. Then, with an air of amusement, she clicked her tongue.

The sound sent a ripple of irritation through him.

Without hesitation, Tryson caught her wrist in a firm grip, stopping her from toying with him any further.

His jaw clenched, his piercing gaze locking onto hers. "What are you doing?" His voice was low, laced with warning.