Cleo moved fast—heels clicking against the marble floor as she raced into the elevator and slid in beside Damien before the doors could shut.
“Morning, Damie,” she cooed, batting her lashes like a deranged Disney villain. “Hope you don’t mind me tagging along.”
Damien didn’t answer. Not even a twitch.
The silence was his rejection, his armor.
But of course, Cleo was persistent.
She trailed after him like a shadow to his car, slipping into the passenger seat without being invited. Buckling her seatbelt with a sharp click, she turned toward him with a saccharine smile that barely masked her irritation.
“So…” she began, crossing her legs slowly. “Who is she really? That girl back there. Ariana or… whatever name she goes by. Is she someone you hired to get my attention?” Her voice was mo
