Damian’s POV

The suite smelled faintly of orchids and expensive perfume, but Damian only registered it as another weapon Vanessa had chosen for tonight. Everything she did was calculated, the colourful lighting, the scent, the dress that shimmered like molten silver against her skin.

She was sitting when he arrived, legs crossed elegantly, a crystal glass of wine poised between her fingers as if she’d been rehearsing the role of the perfect temptress.

Damian didn’t slow down. He strode ...