–Livana–
Damon co-owns the club with his bastard friends—one of whom he nearly killed once. He led me into the VVIP room, the same one we usually occupy. Fittingly, it was named after him. I sat down and stared ahead, composed.
"Where's the monitor located?" I asked calmly.
"Here," he murmured, gently turning my chin toward it.
"Can that be moved in front of me?"
"Of course, baby."
I heard the rustle of quick movement. As expected, he had already ordered unnecessary changes—and they executed them fast. The monitor was placed right in front of me, complete with the stand. Efficient.
"That's a 40-inch screen," he said, settling beside me. "The sound's crisp."
He reached for my hand and pressed a glass of champagne into it with a smile.
"By the way," I said lightly, "I heard Tyrona's loud laugh earlier... with a man who has an accent."
"I didn't expect they'd be here," he chuckled, leaning in closer. "I've got a meeting in the conference room later. You'll come with me."
