Max looked like he'd just been slapped with a wine-soaked napkin. "Oh no."
Christian mouthed, We're so dead.
Behind them, Damian approached with all the subtlety of a storm in formalwear—polite, well-dressed, and impossible to ignore.
Astana and Captain Leslie Decker followed at a discreet pace behind, both expertly pretending they hadn't heard a thing.
"I take it the wine is working," Damian said lightly, eyes on Gabriel leaving with Crista.
Damian turned fully toward them now, expression mild—too mild.
Max cleared his throat. "It was all in good fun."
Damian's gaze drifted from Max to Christian with all the serenity of a man weighing his next execution.
"You seem free enough to discuss medical matters over wine," he said, voice clipped.
Christian groaned quietly. "This luncheon has already cost me a full afternoon of work. I'm going to be behind for days."
