The steel doors of the elevator slid open.
Damien stepped into the foyer.
His golden eyes swept over the living room, taking in the muted reality TV show, the puddle of dark soda on the glass coffee table, Aria lounging happily in a pink bean bag chair with a tub of ice cream, and his sister looking like she was on the verge of a stress-induced coronary.
And then, his gaze landed on Bella Vale.
The temperature in the penthouse plummeted instantly.
Diana didn't wait for her brother to speak. She knew the golden rule of Sinclair negotiations: strike first and strike hard.
"Damien, before you overreact," Diana commanded, sitting up as straight as her bandaged leg would allow. "I have found my caretaker. And before you try to throw her out, I highly suggest you review the terms of our legally binding agreement."
Damien stopped at the edge of the living room, his hands sliding casually into his trouser pockets. "Is that so?" he drawled, his voice a flat, icy monotone.
