“Sorry, Mac. Jake wouldn’t tell me anything.” Amanda joins me in the living room and gives my shoulder a squeeze.

Just what I need. An expert. I hand her the phone.

Amanda reads the messages and gives me a curious, sideways glance. “Mention the girlfriend.”

“Why?”

She laughs. “Just a hunch. Work the girlfriend into the conversation. I’ll bet he shows up at your door in less than half an hour.”

Amanda has never let me down, especially when it comes to men. Trusting her instincts, I send my text.

No doctor here. Just me and friends and lots of drinks

I want to see lots-of-drinks Makayla. Come to the club

2 much violence

I have ice cream

My hands shake, and a giggle erupts from my chest. Maybe if I wasn’t so drunk I would find him less amusing.

Give it 2 Pinkaluscious

Who?

Your girlfriend **frowns**

After waiting five minutes for him to respond, I hand the phone to Amanda and let her read the new texts. She tells me not to text him again. For the next ten minutes, I conduct tests on my phone to ensure it is still working by forcing everyone at the party to text me. Another ten minutes pass by and I finally give up. He isn’t going to respond. And why would he? If it was a game, he knows he’s been found out.

“Someone hit me over the head the next time I express any interest in a man.” I throw myself into the black, leather chair beside Rob and steal his bowl of calorie- and fat-laden chips.

Rob laughs and reaches behind him to turn up the music on the insanely expensive sound system that comes with the apartment. “With pleasure, darling.”

Half an hour and an entire bowl of chips later, the low-pitched, high decibel rumble of a motorcycle from the street below cuts through Gotye’s sad and highly appropriate “Somebody That I Used To Know.” A pathetic hope unfurls in my belly, and I immediately quash it down. He has a girlfriend. Why would he come looking for me?

A light breeze blows across the balcony and through the open windows, ruffling my hair. Gotye’s voice warbles behind me, and I imagine the motorcycle’s engine quiets to a soft, steady, low rumble. Or is it my imagination? My heartbeat quickens. Self-destructive curiosity claws its way through my belly.

Cursing myself for my stupidity, I leave Rob and step onto the balcony. Amanda and Jake are entwined in the corner. Taking a deep breath, I clutch the railing and look at the street below.

Oh. My. God. I know that motorcycle. And I know that tall, powerfully lean, mouthwateringly tight body dismounting the seat.

For a moment, I can only stare. Stunned.

“Amanda,” I gasp. “It’s him. Torment is outside.” A huge grin spreads across my face and I suck in a breath. He’s here. He’s here.

Amanda detaches herself from Jake and frowns. “How did he know your new address?”

“Rob put a sign on the door at my old place.” I narrow my eyes. “You knew he would go there and find it empty.”

Amanda shrugs. “I thought he deserved it after what he did to you. I didn’t know about Rob’s sign.”

My lips tighten into a thin line. “I’m going to call the doorman, and tell him to send Torment up.”

“Don’t let him in,” Amanda snaps. “You told him no. He came anyway. Men like that need boundaries. If you don’t set them at the beginning, he will never know where the boundaries are and he’ll walk all over you. It takes a very strong person to build them in the middle of a relationship. If he’s interested, he’ll ditch the girlfriend and come looking for you. I guarantee it.”

“Maybe he just needs someone to handle first aid tonight,” I say.

“Stop biting your nails.” Amanda slaps my hand away from my mouth. “And stop bouncing. I thought you were angry with him. Angry girls don’t bounce.”

But excited girls do. And what is more exciting than being hunted down by a devastatingly handsome tattooed fighter with a heartwarming laugh?

Amanda studies me and sighs. “Even if it is about work, my previous advice stands. Don’t let the two-timing bastard in.”

Jake strokes his hand down her hair. “I don’t think that’s good advice. I know Torment. If he had a girlfriend—and I think I would have heard about it—he wouldn’t be here. He’s not that kind of guy.” He looks at me and raises his eyebrows. “You saw him at the club, Makayla. What do you think?”

“I think I’m confused.” I lean over the railing. The night is still and quiet again. Torment has removed his helmet and is looking up at my balcony, but from this distance I cannot see his face. Can he see me? For the longest time he looks up and I look down. Finally, he scrubs his hand through his hair, and then his body stills. He sees me.

HE SEES ME!

Using my fancy new intercom, and despite Amanda’s protests, I ring down to the doorman and tell him to send Torment to my apartment. Five minutes later, Torment crosses my threshold, his leather creaking with every step.

The room freezes. Every conversation stops. The last few notes of Taylor Swift’s “I Knew You Were Trouble” linger in the air. Amanda detaches herself from Jake’s arms, stomps across the room, and stands in front of me.

“Torment.” She crosses her arms. I don’t have to see her face to know she has shot him her best don’t-mess-with-my-friend glare.

“Amanda.”

Tension hangs in the air between them, and the skin on the back of my neck prickles.