Damien’s POV
“You opened it?”
Vincent Reed’s voice sliced through the studio before I could hide what I was doing. I look up too fast.
He is standing in the doorway to my office area with one hand in his coat pocket and the other resting lightly at his side, like he has all the time in the world, and I am the only one in the room foolish enough to feel rushed.
The blue box sits on the table between us.
Open but not open enough.
The lid gave half an inch. Nothing more.
“Not fully,” I say.
Vincent comes further in. His eyes dropped to the box, then to the small metal tool lying beside it. Then to me.
“That was not the agreement.”
I laughed once, because if I didn't, I might say something worse. “The agreement was that you wanted the box and I wanted the girl. I got the box. The gir
