Page 74 of The Contract

Damien’s deep voice wraps around me, warm and effortless, as if we’re the only two in the room.

It’s such a normal question. A fiancé checking on his partner. He’s playing the part perfectly.

He’s finished with his plate, leaning on his elbow close to me.

So close that when I look over to answer, my breath catches in my throat.

Something about being here—surrounded by the ocean, maybe—pulls out the various shades of blue in his eyes.

He’s so striking, I nearly forget the question.

His mouth quirks at my hesitation, amusement flickering there, but before I can answer, Adrian cuts in.

“So, Damien,” he starts casually, leaning back in his chair as he stirs his coffee. “I assume you haven’t had time to work through the concerns I raised yesterday. Will you be staying ashore today to get some work done?”

The table stills, tension creeping in at the edges of my awareness.

We’re going out on the Calloways’ yacht today, and the thought of being stuck there with Adrian—without Damien—makes my cheeks flush.

I swallow my bite of food carefully, watching as Damien lifts his coffee cup, taking a slow sip before placing it back down with deliberate ease. He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t react.

He simply turns his gaze to Adrian, unreadable as ever. “Which concerns specifically?”

Adrian smiles, slow and self-satisfied. “Oh, you know—risk distribution, asset allocation, the minor oversights in your proposed terms. I imagine you were up all night revising your strategy.”

It’s bait.

An attempt to get under Damien’s skin. To make him slip, even if just slightly, in front of Calloway.

But Damien doesn’t take the bait.

He grabs the coffee pot, refilling my cup with a wink, then his own, and finally—finally—lets a smirk tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Nah, it took no time at all. Marcus and I went over everything in about ten minutes,” he says smoothly. “We found your observations… interesting.”

I bite back a grin at the calculated amusement in his voice, like he’s indulging a child’s attempt at chess.

“Interesting how?” Adrian pushes, his fingers tightening around his coffee cup.

Damien shrugs, utterly composed. “Turns out, you’re using numbers that are decades old. Some pre-9/11 and—well—we all know how much New York shifted in that aftermath. It became a whole new world.”

“That’s for sure,” Calloway agrees absentmindedly as he cuts into his eggs.

The simple statement—his uncle’s approval—lands with the weight of a hammer, and I watch as Adrian’s jaw tightens just slightly before he covers it with another smile.

Damien doesn’t look away. Doesn’t move.

Except to put his hand on my knee, sitting back like he’s the one whoownsthe conversation now.

“In fact, we sent the updated projections and new reports validating our earlier statements last night just after dinner.”

Damien takes another casual sip of coffee.

“You haven’t looked them over yet?”

He’s good.

Better than good.

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