Damon’s POV
My parents exchanged a look, a loaded look, one that said they understood this conversation wasn’t for them. They left the room quietly, closing the door with the kind of finality that meant good luck—or maybe just don’t burn the place down. I poured myself a glass of bourbon, savoring the slow burn as I took the first sip. It was probably my one true vice. Thank the Goddess for tolerance because I’d need all of it to get through the night with Drake sitting across from me, staring like he didn’t know whether to thank me or punch me.
Drake looked at the bottle and shook his head, so I shrugged. “More for me, then.” I tipped the glass, letting it burn down, the only thing tonight that gave a sense of calm. I watched him, leaning back against the desk, leveling him with a look.
