The Don's Rebel Pet
I was just a poor art student then, an orphan working shifts at a coffee shop to pay tuition.
I painted in my spare time, dreaming of my own gallery show.
Then one day, a rich bitch from school poured a scalding latte all over my final project.
"Oops," she sneered. "Something this pathetic was never going to hang in a gallery. I was just helping you take out the trash."
I tried to fight back, but her friends cornered me, and a slap stung my face.
That's when Damon appeared.
He wasn't the monster he is today. Back then, he wore an expensive, handmade suit. A god who’d stumbled into the wrong part of town.
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