DAMIAN’S POV
Holy. F-ing. Crap.
Is this the surprise my sweet little brother, who I’m two seconds from burying, said he had for me?
It better not be.
I ain’t about to face Cindy Virelli’s wrath. Hell no.
My eyes snapped to her again.
Holy sh!t.
She’s standing there, arms crossed, lips pressed into a razor-thin line, and eyes blazing like she’s already picking out my coffin.
I know that look.
She’s cursing me in seventeen languages and plotting a million ways to end Damian Thorne.
But trust me, baby. This ain’t what it looks like.
This plastic Barbie glued to my chest? She’s just one of the many whores I banged back in the day.
Please don’t blame me. Blame my twenty-year-old d**k and a testosterone overdose.
It’s just a one-time fling. I paid her off, and that was the end.
Lit
