Shoved into the car, Emma Hart was still trying to gather her wits when Damien Sterling's gaze, icy and bloodthirsty, never left her. "Did I hurt you?" he asked, his voice cold.
Locking eyes with Damien, Emma felt the weight of his anger, as if smashing the store wasn't enough to quell it. Yet, she knew they had to stop before things escalated further. Waving her arms dismissively, she hurriedly assured, "I'm fine, really, not a scratch on me."
Damien's cold glance made Emma's heart race with fear, desperate not to stir any more trouble. Already dragged into the car, she quickly leaned forward, grabbing at Damien's coat in a pitiful plea. "Mr. President, can we get in the car and close the door? It's so cold."
What Emma really wanted to say was, "Can we just leave it at that, please?"
Damien glanced at Emma, seeing her in a vulnerable state, rare for her, and got into the car, remarking, "This one's on you."
