By 9:30 AM, the turtleneck was trending.
Not publicly, of course. But on the internal Blackwood Logistics messaging app, the "Water Cooler" channel was ablaze. Steve Jobs era? one analyst typed. Mid-life crisis? suggested another. Hiding a vampire bite? joked a third, unknowingly hitting the bullseye.
Damon marched through the hallways of the fortieth floor, oblivious to the digital chatter but painfully aware of the physical stares. The cashmere collar felt like a vice around his throat, trapping the heat and the shame against his skin. Every time he swallowed, he felt the tender bruise Leo had left behind.
He reached his office, Leo flanking him like a bodyguard.
Sarah looked up from her desk. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the black sweater and grey blazer combo.
"Good morning, Mr. Blackwood," Sarah said, her professional mask slipping for just a fraction of a second. "You look... different today."
