The study door clicked shut behind us with a soft, final sound that felt like a death sentence.
Sophia settled onto the leather wingback chair across from the massive mahogany desk, crossing her legs casually, completely oblivious. She looked fresh from her flight—blonde hair tied back, light sweater and jeans, the trusting smile I had known since we were eight still lighting up her face.
“I can’t believe how much I missed this place,” she said, sighing happily. “And you two. Seriously, Ava, you look like you haven’t slept in days. Dad, have you been working her too hard?”
Damien leaned against the edge of his desk, the picture of relaxed power in his crisp shirt, silver threading his dark hair. His dark bourbon eyes flicked to me with dark amusement.
“She’s been very helpful,” he repl
