“It didn’t seem like he had a girlfriend,” Bree completed flatly.
The tiniest wince was Farica’s only answer.
“We’re still...adjusting.” It was the only way she could think to describe her relationship with Dylan...the jerk. The...ass. The...evil, hurtful, stupid man!
Farica nodded profusely. “Sure, totally understand that.”
It almost made her smile. “Thank you for being honest with me.” Bree paused, something still puzzling her. “I know you said you’re not...with Dylan...but...if you’re not, why did you—-”
“Bother coming here?” Farica’s gaze became hooded. “I was hoping that because you guys would be here, someone I wanted to meet would be here, too.”
“Oh.” It was a guy. Bree and Farica exchanged a look of understanding. She didn’t ask anymore. It was clear Farica wasn’t comfortable revealing who she had been hoping to meet.
Farica’s directions ensured that Bree quickly found her way to where Dylan was. She released her pent up breath when she found Dylan alone on a loveseat in the third floor balcony, head thrown back, his eyes closed and his face drawn.
Her heart stumbled.
Gorgeous, sexy, sweet, crazy IDIOT.
It was clear that he wasn’t happy at all about what he did.
Bree stepped past the sliding doors, and even though she hadn’t made any sound, Dylan’s eyes immediately flew open, his head unerringly turning towards her.
BREE WAS HERE. The words slashed into his mind, a terrible sense of fear and panic gripping Dylan. It was like the past all over again and although he had always tried his best not to remember the last time they had met like this, the sight of Bree’s face right now forced the memories back into the forefront of his brain.
“Wake up, sweetie, you’ve got a visitor.” Henrietta’s purr, combined with her gentle shake of his shoulder, drew Dylan out of his troubled sleep. He opened his eyes, expecting Henrietta to be naked already with the way she was stroking his cock.
But instead he saw Bree.
“Fuck!”
Dylan was on his feet in the next second, not giving a damn about the look of hurt anger on Henrietta’s face as he pushed her hand away from his body.
Bree still hadn’t said a word. He had seen her mad plenty of times, and boy could she scream when she was. So why wasn’t she screaming now?
Fear seized him by the throat at this unfamiliar cold and silent side of hers, and fear turned into panic when she suddenly turned away with a choking sound, as if she was no longer able to bear seeing him.
“Wait!”
But she didn’t stop to even look at him, half-running, half-stumbling out of the patio. He chased after her, but he had to stop to pull on his pants. By the time he got out of his apartment, he saw Bree already stepping into the elevator.
Dylan shouted her name. “Stop, Bree, wait!” But he was too late, the doors only a few inches away from completely closing. The last thing he saw was Bree’s tear-stained face.
It shook him: that look. He didn’t think he could ever forgive himself if he made Bree look – feel – that way again. Turning around, Dylan trespassed his way to the service elevator, saying bitingly to the stunned chambermaid, “Get me to the lobby. Now.”
Luck was finally on Dylan’s side when he came out of the elevator and spotted Bree outside the building. He ran to her, ignoring how everyone was gaping at his bare-chested and barefooted form.
“Bree.” He was breathing heavily when he reached her side. She didn’t look at him, forcing Dylan to move and stand right in front of her.
She tried to look away, but he was faster than her, catching her chin and making Bree turn to him. The heartbroken look on her young face made him want to kill himself.
But to acknowledge that pain would be even worse. It was difficult to pretend there was nothing wrong, but he managed to do it. “Where are you going?”
Her eyes darkened in hurt at his inane question, but Dylan hardened himself against it.
Finally, she said tonelessly, “Home to Saffi. I’m just waiting for the driver to pick me up.”
“Tell him not to bother. I can drive you. I just need to take a shower—-”
“No, thanks.”
“I—-”
“It’s obvious you’re busy.” Bree nearly choked on the word. Busy was such a lame way of describing how he had nearly come in Henrietta’s hand.
“Bree...” He tried to use his cajoling voice, but it didn’t work this time. He waited for her to talk, to say anything, but she didn’t. Her silence made him feel like there was suddenly a wall separating them, and he didn’t fucking like that. He fucking hated it, but with every second that passed it was as if the wall only kept getting stronger and thicker.
“I didn’t know you were coming.” It was a fucking lie, of course. Although she was a fairly good liar with other people, Dylan always found it easy to catch Bree on her lies. And in the past week, she had been more than obvious in her plans to surprise him with a visit.