Lena
I made Damien coffee because apparently that was who I was now.
A woman making coffee for a violent billionaire at one in the morning while he discussed murder with terrifyingly calm men in my living room.
Character development.
I stood at the kitchen counter trying not to listen while Roman spoke quietly near the broken front window.
“…warehouse cameras confirm it was him.”
Damien leaned against the wall beside the hallway, one hand in his pocket, expression unreadable.
“Who?” he asked.
“Marcus.”
Silence.
Not surprised silence.
Disappointed silence.
Damien closed his eyes briefly.
Just once.
Then he nodded.
“Get rid of him.”
My stomach dropped.
So casual.
Like ordering takeout.
Roman hesitated.
“He’s been with you six years.”
Damien’s gaze turned glacial.
“And h
