Eleanor's POV
I saw him before he saw me. Damien stormed through the glass doors of my private lounge, his presence as commanding as ever. His fists were clenched, his jaw locked tight, and his entire body radiated fury.
I sipped my wine slowly, setting the glass down with deliberate grace. I had expected him to come, just not this soon. He was always predictable when angry—reckless, impatient, and easy to manipulate.
"Damien," I greeted smoothly, as if he were just another guest and not a raging storm ready to destroy everything in his path.
His glare was sharp enough to cut through steel. "You knew," he said, voice low but dangerous. "You knew about the scandal before it even broke, didn't you?"
I raised an eyebrow, tilting my head in feigned curiosity. "Scandal? You'll have to be more specific, dear. The world never stops talking about the Steele name."