Dylan stood by the tall window. One hand in his pocket, the other resting loosely by his side. The silence in his office was loud until the door creaked open and Allan stepped in, holding two cups of steaming coffee.
Without a word, Allan handed one over. Dylan accepted it with a small nod, eyes still locked on something only he could see outside.
Allan leaned against the edge of the desk, eyeing him. "Thinking about Ryker? Olivia? Or your assistant? If it's her you're worried about, I heard she's okay. Might even start work soon."
Dylan took a sip, jaw clenching slightly. "No. She's not starting work. Not now—not when that fucker somehow managed to bail out Philip and Laura. And Betty? She's still out there too."
Allan's eyes narrowed. "The fuck? Who bailed them?"
"Ryker," Dylan muttered darkly. "He's got the kind of lawyers who make miracles look cheap. Money's not his problem. I'm starting to think he's pissed that I tried to lock up his daughter."
