Chapter 4

DAMON'S POV

Quin returned to my office three hours later, holding a leather folder against her chest like a shield. She looked composed, but the defiant tilt of her chin told a completely different story.

“The car for your dinner with your father and Miss Smith is downstairs, Mr Frederick,” she said, her voice flat, professional, and cold. “You have twenty minutes before the driver leaves.”

“Let it wait,” I growled, crossing the room in three long strides.

Before she could step back, my hand locked around her waist. She exhaled sharply, the folder slipping from her fingers and dropping…