Damon’s POV
The last couple of days had slipped past in a blur of numbers, calls, and endless frustration. I sat in the living room of my villa, the floor-to-ceiling windows pouring late-afternoon light across the mahogany table. My laptop glowed, stacked beside several hard files, the recent transaction records of Obsidian Group.
I flipped another page, my jaw tightening. Those f*****g morons. Employees, managers, executives, all of them earning fat paychecks while producing half the work I expect. Do I feed parasites or run an empire? My pen scratched across a note in the margin before I shoved the file aside.
That was when my sharp hearing caught it: the distant rumble of a car engine approaching. I stilled, ears honing on the sound as it drew closer, then stopped at my driveway.
C
