The woman from last night stepped in like she owned the place. She didn’t look at Damien. She looked straight at me.
I thought she was just a scorned woman looking for Damien’s attention. What if she was his wife? My stomach dropped. It was just art between us but I couldn’t help the sting of guilt.
“What the f**k are you doing here?” she asked again, one brow raised, mouth curled with disgust.
I blinked, unsure if I was supposed to answer.
Damien didn’t flinch. “She’s here because I invited her.”
Beverly turned to him, slow and sharp. “Since when do you invite groupies into the studio?”
“She’s not a groupie,” he said flatly.
Beverly looked at me again, eyes dragging over my body like she was scanning for flaws. Her gaze paused at my face and stayed there a second too long.
“You’ve
