Gideon Blackwood stared at me, his face frozen in shock as I leaned into his now doorless luxury car.
"Listen carefully," I said, my voice deceptively calm. "I don't have time for your childish games. Move your car now, or I'll move it for you."
When he didn't respond, still gaping at his ruined door lying on the pavement, I sighed and reached in. The slap I delivered was precise—just hard enough to leave a mark without causing serious injury.
Gideon's hand flew to his reddening cheek. "You... you..." he sputtered.
"That's your only warning," I said. "Next time, I won't be so gentle."
Finally finding his senses, Gideon fumbled with his gearshift and jerked his car forward, tires squealing as he sped away. I turned to see Damian staring at me through the windshield, his mouth hanging open.
I walked back and slid into the passenger seat. "We should get going. Your father needs help."
Damian blinked repeatedly before starting the car. "That was... How did you..."
