It wasn’t the vase crashing against the floor that made Dylan slam his fist against the wall. It was the voice speaking behind him and the fact that he couldn’t find his keys. He turned to see his father’s assistant, Susan, standing at the bottom of the staircase.
“Is she the girl your father told me about?”
Susan loved to push his buttons almost as much as his dad.
“I don’t have time for your questions,” Dylan said. “I need my keys.”
“You mean these?”
He spun around to see his keys dangling from her fingers. “How the hell did you get those?”
When he tried taking them, Susan jerked her hand from his and hid it behind her back. “You sent them flying across the floor when you ransacked the table.”
“Give them to me. I need to go after her,” he growled, advancing toward her.
“Not until
