Vended to Don Damon
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He held out his palm, which I ignored, and as I walked past him into the building, he quickly caught up with me and grabbed me by the wrist.
“You should be happy I’m holding your hand in public, Princess. I don’t do cringey things like this.”
I opened my mouth to give a witty response, but never got around to it, as a tall man in a suit, with several face tattoos and braided hair, walked up to us.
“Damon Vyon, a pleasure to see you,” he greeted, offering his hand for a handshake. Damon clasped it firmly, his face crashing in a little smile. “Pleasure’s mine, Carlos.”
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