It was two a.m. Yet the asshole banging on her door apparently hadn’t caught that memo. Billy Calleira ran a hand down her face, trying to wipe some of the blurriness from her eyes. For a second she considered lying in bed and pretending she didn’t hear him, but then came, “Biiiiiiiiiiiiiillllllllllllyyyyyyy! Open the door! Pleeeeeeeeease. I need to....I need to talk to you.” Pause. “It’s....It’s important. Biiiiiiiiiiiiiilllllllllllyyyyyyyyyy.” Her brows lowered. “Oh Jesus Christ.” She knew that voice. With a groan, Billy slid out of bed as the banging and the pleas continued. Finally she reached her condo’s front door and stood on her tiptoes to peer through the peephole. With a roll of her eyes and another groan, she unlocked the door and swung it open. “Noah? What the hell are you doing here?” Barely holding his six-foot-four frame up, Noah Perugino—her fiancé’s best friend—squinted down at her from the hallway of her building, the glare of the scattered lights no doubt burning his eyes.
