Damian's POV

The restaurant was elegant, as expected. Sophie Peterson was already seated when I arrived. She lifted her gaze to me and gave a subtle nod. No fake smile. No effort to seem overly warm or approachable. She wore a dark blue tailored suit that contrasted with her pale skin and jet-black hair, perfectly tucked behind her ear. Everything about her was restrained.

Nothing like the spoiled brat I'd been expecting.

"Mr. Winter," she greeted, extending her hand.

"Miss Peterson."