I burst out laughing. Why did he have to show up now, as if I did not already have enough chaos on my plate?
I shoved the door open hard.
Right there inside, Dylan's face was livid with rage, glaring daggers at a young man lounging lazily against the sofa.
That young man wore a perfectly tailored white suit, a slim cigarette pinched between his fingertips.
Through the curling wispy smoke, he winked at me, his grin bright and infuriatingly cheeky.
"Lena, you are finally back," he said. "Your man here is mean as hell, almost threw me out."
The second Dylan spotted me, all the tension drained out of his shoulders in a huge relieved sigh.
He strode straight toward me and clamped a tight grip on my wrist.
"Where were you last night?" he asked.
He tilted my face up in his hand, gripping
