Damien’s POV
The sound of shattering glass brought Olivia’s head snapping toward me.
“Damien?” she asked softly.
I looked up. Her eyes were wide, pupils flickering across my face like she was trying to read my every micro-expression.
Her father straightened in his seat. “Everything alright, son?”
I blinked once. Twice.
Then I laughed—short, sharp, and brittle. “Yeah,” I said, brushing glass shards off my hand. “Just clumsy fingers. Must be the wine.”
“Okay… but who’s getting engaged?” she asked, one brow arched, suspicion flickering in her eyes.
I hesitated, scrambling for something that didn’t sound like a lie.
“Umm… a friend. Someone I used to know.”
Her gaze sharpened.
“Do I know them too?”
“No.” I shook my head a little too quickly. “Just drop it, Liv. It’s not a big deal.
