For two hours, the only sounds in the CEO's office were the dull thud of heavy cardboard boxes being shifted, the crisp rustle of old paper, and the soft slide of fabric against the carpet.
Damon sat at his desk, his eyes fixed on the glowing spreadsheet on his monitor. At least, that's what he was pretending to look at.
In reality, his gaze kept drifting over the top of the screen to the far corner of the room.
Leo was still on his knees. His shirt sleeves were rolled past his elbows, and he was covered in a fine layer of dust, his hair slightly disheveled.
He looked like he was doing penance. And he looked radiantly content.
Damon's jaw ached from how hard he was clenching it. He had ordered the boy to the floor to humiliate him. He had wanted to remind Leo of his place in the corporate hierarchy, to cool the dangerous, simmering heat that had erupted in the kitchen the night before.
Instead, Damon was learning a terrifying lesson in psychology.
