But sometimes, we do sick and twisted things for the people we love. ~ Skye Warren.
~•~
AMANDA
"Mother!"
I heard the scream before the door to the suite even opened.
Dylan. His face was flushed with rage, and his breathing was difficult as if he'd run a marathon. "What have you done?"
The wine glass in my hand and that of Kent's froze midair as we exchanged glances, then back at my son, who stood panting and seething in the doorway.
"Dylan," I exclaimed, putting my drink down. "What are you doing here? How did you get in?"
He didn't respond. Instead, he took another step into the room and slammed a newspaper on the table. "Explain this," He demanded.
I looked down, perplexed. Kent reached over and picked up the tabloid, bringing it closer.
The front page read—BILLIONAIRE ROBE
