Damian's POV
The first thing I learned at the Spring Furniture Festival was that Rebecca could not walk in a straight line.
She drifted. Always sideways. Always toward me. A hand on my forearm to point at a velvet bench. A shoulder against mine to read a price tag. A laugh aimed straight into my collar for no reason at all.
Every time, I shifted half a step right. Not enough to embarrass her. Just enough to put the space back. Rebecca never seemed to notice. She drifted again.
Someone should have been filming this for my father.
The woman he was so eager to dangle in front of Damon or Darius bore very little resemblance to the polite stranger who had eaten dinner at the estate.
"Damian." Rebecca tilted her chin up. "You haven't said a word in ten minutes."
"I'm listening."
"You're
