Sebastian had been pacing the veranda for nearly twenty minutes, the cold night air doing nothing to cool the heat burning under his skin. His fingers tightened around his phone as he stared at the photo again—Rylee, glowing, smiling, standing beside a man whose suit alone probably cost more than Sebastian’s monthly rent.
He zoomed in on the man’s hand resting on the small of her back. His stomach twisted.
Sebastian’s thumb hovered over Rylee’s name. He hesitated only a second before pressing call.
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. His pulse hammered.
“Pick up,” he muttered. “Pick up, Rylee.”
On the fourth ring, the call connected.
But the voice that answered wasn’t hers.
“Hello.”
Sebastian froze.
The voice was deep. Calm. Controlled.
A man’s voice.
“Who the hell is this?
