Rhyland: Who the fuck are you hugging in that picture? Because it sure as hell ain’t me. Her reply was immediate—further proof she hadn’t answered my call simply to rile me up. Dylan: A friend. Rhyland: You don’t have any friends here. Dylan: I made one today. Like hell she had. Rhyland: Where? When? Dylan: At Target. Rhyland: He works there? Dylan: Yes. Rhyland: Not anymore he doesn’t. I’ll see to it that he gets fired immediately. What the fuck was wrong with me? Why was I jealous? No—not jealous, just protective of the Bruce Marshall deal. I really didn’t need her to screw it all up with a
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