Chapter Nine
After another four hours of sleep and then delivery Chinese food, Damien had slid back to sleep. But that escape eluded Cornelia.
Ultimately she wasn’t going to solve anything lying next to Damien while he slept. Half an hour later she sat at her desk in the West Wing. Nearing midnight on a Sunday night, there was no one to disturb her thought processes. Or her body. Disturbing her body? She wasn’t some sacrosanct temple. Damien wasn’t disturbing her body, he was messing with her emotions.
She sighed and pushed back from her computer before she even got started. It was clear that she wasn’t going to find a way to compartmentalize Damien Feinman unless she assigned him some concentrated thought.
Then she pulled herself back to the computer because thinking about Damien was
