◆◆◆ Chapter 2 ◆◆◆
Ryan called at 8 AM.
“Mia! Thank God. I need you.”
I was still in my club dress from last night, the fabric wrinkled and clinging to skin that still carried the faint scent of Dominic’s cologne. My thighs ached in the best-worst way; every step reminded me of how thoroughly he’d taken me apart on that leather couch, then again in his bed. Guilt slammed into me like cold water.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, though the tremor in his voice already told me.
“Vanessa and I had a huge fight. Can you come over? Please?”
Twenty minutes later I sat on Ryan’s familiar couch, legs tucked under me, listening to him recount how Vanessa had screamed that he was “too controlling” when he’d dared ask where she’d been until 3 a.m. The irony tasted like ash — I’d been spread across his br
