Silas's POV
I was staring at that blondie, and his manager was glaring at me like a dog. Not that I cared. I stared right back at him.
"What are you staring at, you bitch?"
Huh? Is that manager completely out of his mind? I haven't even said a word, so why is he cursing at me now?
I was about to open my mouth when the door suddenly swung open, and Damon walked into the office. The moment he stepped in, the entire room fell silent. Everyone's attention shifted to him.
He walked over and sat on the sofa, crossing his legs and leaning back. Adjusting his glasses with his middle finger, he gave us a cold, unreadable look. I knew he had to be mad at me—his gaze was ice-cold.
And why wouldn't he be? I had messed up the face of one of his company's artists. Of course, he had every right to be angry. But it wasn't my fault. It was that blondie's fault for provoking me for no reason.
