## Liam's POV
The drive to Damian's house felt endless. Every traffic light turned red, every slow driver seemed to position themselves directly in front of me. All I could think about was Hazel's flushed face, her partially unbuttoned blouse, and the way she'd arched into my touch.
I slammed my palm against the steering wheel.
"Damn it."
My phone buzzed with another message from Damian: *Where are you?*
I didn't bother responding. Ten minutes later, I pulled into his driveway and killed the engine. The large colonial house was lit up like a Christmas tree. Security personnel stood at strategic points around the property—a reminder that this wasn't a social call.
Damian opened the door before I could knock.
"You look like hell," he remarked.
"Thanks." I brushed past him into the foyer. "This better be good. I was—"
"In the middle of making up with Hazel. I figured."
I shot him a glare that would have made most employees quit on the spot. He just laughed.