Damien POV
The whiskey burned going down, but not enough to numb the ache in my chest.
I stared at my phone screen, at the message I'd sent hours ago. Still no response. Just those three devastating words she'd typed earlier: You have nothing.
My hand tightened around the glass until my knuckles went white.
"Mr. Blackwood?" My assistant's voice crackled through the intercom, pulling me from my spiral. "Your 9 AM with the Tokyo investors is in fifteen minutes."
I glanced at my watch. 8:47 AM. I'd been sitting here all night, drinking and staring at my phone like a pathetic fool.
"Cancel it," I said, my voice rough from lack of sleep and too much whiskey.
"Sir, they flew in specifically"
"I said cancel it." I ended the call with a jab of my finger.
The city sprawled below my penthouse office, morning light glinting off the glass towers. Somewhere down there, Aria was starting her day. Maybe having coffee Maybe with that bastard Lucas Hayes.
