At the Visitor Room, in prison,
Damien's expression darkened the instant it landed on Theodore. The muscles in his jaw flexed. He marched forward, dropped into the chair like he was forced, and grabbed the intercom from its holder.
The line crackled before his low voice came through, rough, and seething. "What the f*ck are you here for? To gloat at my misfortune?"
His lip curled venomously. "Simon Cladwell," he uttered the name like it burned his tongue, "get your smug face out of my sight before you find yourself rotting in the next cell over."
Theodore aka Simon's lips curled up. A smile that was colder and promised nothing good.
Damien's arrogance hadn't changed, not even in a prison uniform, not even stripped of his empire.
"I'm not the villain in your life, Damien," Theodore said deliberately, his tone a quiet blade.
Damien almost rolled his eyes. "I am the villain, and I'll be out soon enough." He believed it was the small slip-up that caused his imprisonment.
