CHAPTER 120 LUCA I don’t call him. I tell myself it’s because I’m giving him space. That’s a lie. The truth is, I don’t know what the hell I’d even say. “Boss, you good?” Damon’s voice cuts through the room as he stands by the door, wary like I might explode any second. I grunt, downing another glass of whiskey. “Do I look good?” He hesitates. “No.” “Then there’s your answer.” I pour another drink, my hand barely steady. The amber liquid sloshes over the rim and stains the table. I don’t wipe it. Damon shifts. “You’ve been at this for three days straight.” “And?” I snap, finally looking up at him. My eyes burn. My head pounds. “Do I need your permission to drink in my own house now?” “No,” he says slowly. “But I do think you need someone to knock sense into you.” “Then go get Matteo,” I mutter bitterly. “That’s usually his job.” “He already tried,” Damon says quietly. “You punched him.” I laugh—harsh, humorless. “He deserved it.” “For what? Telling you the truth?” Damo
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