The whisper hung in the air, a lit match dropped directly into a powder keg.
"You can always just put a fresh coat on."
Damon's vision tunneled. The sterile, ambient noise of the forty-story skyscraper faded into absolute nothingness, replaced entirely by the deafening roar of his own pulse. He stared down at Leo's lips, slightly parted, damp, and curved into that devastating, victorious smile.
Damon didn't think. The rational, calculating CEO had died somewhere in the dark hours of the morning, standing over a sleeping boy's bed.
Damon's arm shot out. He didn't gently move the silver coffee tray; he backhanded it. The heavy silver crashed onto the plush carpet, the porcelain mugs shattering. Hot, dark coffee splattered across the floor, the sharp scent of hazelnut exploding into the room.
Leo didn't even flinch at the violent noise. His green eyes only flared brighter, practically glowing with adrenaline.
