Dark clouds sweeping across the sky matched his mood. He’d woken to discover that Presley had left sometime in the night. He wanted answers, and he wanted them now. Dmitri had never had a submissive behave so disrespectfully, and he wasn’t sure if his harsh reaction was for that reason alone or if it centered on Presley herself. His experience with her last night had warranted a deeper look, and instead of doing that, he was chasing her down with irritation burning his blood. How could she have logically thought her behavior was acceptable? Or that he wouldn’t lose his mind at what she’d done? He opened his car door, dropped into the plush bucket seat, and started the engine. With a squeal of his tires, he tore out of the garage and booked it through the wrought-iron gates just as they opened. The engine revved beneath his heavy foot, and he cursed any red light that got in his way. Las Vegas streets whipped by his window; he took the back roads to avoid the Strip traffic.
