Damian
The penthouse office felt quieter than usual, the kind of silence that amplified every tap of my keyboard. Spreadsheets and projections stared back at me, but my focus kept fracturing. That damn stack of cards from Adrian still lingered in the back of my mind like an itch I refused to scratch.
A familiar sharp knock broke the monotony. Adrian let himself in, looking annoyingly relaxed in jeans and a button-down, carrying two coffees like he was doing me a favor.
“Still chained to the desk, I see,” he said, setting one cup in front of me. “Figured you could use something stronger than whatever black tar you call coffee.”
I accepted it with a nod. “To what do I owe the interruption?”
He dropped into the chair across from me, feet propped up on the edge of my desk like he owned ha
