DAMIEN'S POV - The Next Evening, 6:30 PM
Damien stood at his study window, watching the circular driveway with an intensity that would have been pathetic if anyone else could see it.
He'd spent the entire day in a state of controlled fury. Snapping at staff. Unable to focus on work. Checking the security cameras obsessively to see what Sarah was doing.
She'd spent most of the day in the art studio, painting. From the glimpses he'd caught on the monitors, she seemed to be working on something new...something that involved a lot of dark blues and grays, heavy brushstrokes that spoke of turmoil.
Good. She should be turmoil. She should be as conflicted about this dinner as he was about allowing it.
At 6:25, he watched her emerge from the staff entrance. She was wearing the emerald dress...the one he'd bought her for their gallery date. His dress. On a date with another man.
The possessive rage that flooded through him was primal, barely controlled.
