Dylan was in his office, flipping through the stack of documents Betty had submitted earlier—papers she had made him sign without much explanation. He was fully immersed when the door suddenly burst open without a knock or even the courtesy of a heads-up.
Betty stormed in.
"Ever heard of knocking?" Dylan asked dryly, his eyes still on the paperwork.
"I quit," she announced without hesitation.
That made him look up. His brow rose, and the sharp edge of annoyance flashed in his eyes.
"Under what circumstances or reasons, Betty?" he asked, voice clipped, still not affording her even half a second of real eye contact.
"I'm moving out of the country, sir."
"Running from the law?" he asked, and though his tone was casual, the weight behind his words said he wasn't joking. He knew exactly what he was implying.
"I'm not a criminal, sir."
"Sure you're not—at least not yet," Dylan muttered, finally glancing up, a half-smile tugging at his lips, teasing yet razor-sharp.
