At 12:30 PM precisely, the oak doors of the CEO's office opened.
Leo walked in, balancing two brown paper bags and a carrier with coffees. He kicked the door shut behind him with his uninjured leg, a maneuver that made Damon wince in sympathy.
"Lunch is served," Leo announced, walking to the small round conference table.
Damon watched him from his desk. He had spent the last two hours trying to focus on the Tokyo expansion numbers, but Vanessa's perfume—a cloying floral scent—seemed to linger in the room, irritating him.
"I assume it's not sushi," Damon said, standing up and stretching.
"Italian," Leo replied, unpacking containers. "Carbonara for you. It's heavy, comforting, and garlic-heavy. Guaranteed to keep vampires and VPs away."
Damon chuckled, a low sound that vibrated in his chest. He walked over, sitting across from Leo. "You really didn't like her."
"I don't like poachers," Leo corrected, handing Damon a fork. "She looks at you like you're a steak dinner."
