From the moment Damien stepped from his car, he recognized that something was amiss.
The air outside his penthouse was too quiet.
His security detail permanently camped at the threshold was not there.
No calls. No alerts. Just gone.
Damien fidgeted with his cuff links, all his body movements deliberate and measured. He wouldn't be the kind of man to allow his feelings to determine his actions.
But tonight there was a dangerous energy coiling in his muscles.
Richard Lancaster had finally hit back.
He stepped inside the building, silent against the marble. The moment he arrived at the elevator, he spotted it, the door to his penthouse cracked open.
A warning. A challenge.
He stepped inside.
The smell of rich whiskey soaked the air, but something under it didn't smell right.
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