Damian's POV
The helicopter blades were still spinning when I stepped onto the rooftop, the wind tugging at my coat, the city yawning far below me. I should have been thinking about the meeting I'd just left — a brutal negotiation with a consortium of international investors who thought they could strong-arm me into softening the terms of the contract.
Idiots.
They had no concept of leverage.
Or pressure.
Or the fact that I was willing to watch their entire legacy collapse if they so much as attempted to undermine my authority.
But despite the high-stakes threat I'd just delivered, despite the impressive show of corporate violence I'd unleashed, my mind was somewhere else entirely.
It was in a sun-filled apartment.
Beside a drafting table.
With a woman whose soft voice could quiet storms that had been roaring in me for decades.
Emma.
