Page 52 of Master of My Life

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DAMIAN SAT IN A LOW LEATHER CHAIR IN THE CORNER OF A MEN ’ S CLUB IN WASHINGTON , DC, NOT

far from the Capitol building. His companion, a short, balding man, had as many, if not more,

connections in the city than Damian.

“I’m telling you, she’s the one you want.”

Not wanting to tip his hand, he pursed his lips. “I never send a woman in to do a man’s work,

George.”

George chuckled. “I’m certain you’ll find Sydney more than capable of handling any job you have

in mind. I’ve never heard of her disappointing anyone.” He chuckled. “Of course, if she did, she

probably killed him before he could spread the word.”

Damian took a sip of cognac out of the cut-glass tumbler he held in his hand, the two ice cubes

tinkling against the sides. From what he knew of Sydney’s reputation, George was probably right.

George leaned forward. “Meet her. If you’re not satisfied, I’ll find you someone else.” He

glanced at the thick gold watch at his wrist. “She should be here soon.”

Damian looked up as a woman appeared in the opposite corner of the room. She flashed a half-

smile toward George and wove her way around the groups of dark leather chairs and low wooden

tables positioned throughout the room.

She walked like a cat—graceful, full of poise, and a touch of arrogance. Her dark hair was pulled

back into a low bun with a heavy set of bangs that drew over her brows. Her black suit was expertly

tailored with the tiniest hint of red satin between her jacket and cleavage.

A brow disappeared into her bangs as she approached. “Hello, George.” Her voice was low and

rolled off her tongue like molasses.

Damian’s lips tipped up into a smile as the woman—Sydney, he assumed—settled into the chair

across from him, crossing her long legs and resting her elbows on the wide arms of the black leather

chair.

George smiled. “Hello, darling.”

Sydney turned her blue-eyed gaze to Damian and tilted her head, a soft smile playing on her lips.

“You must be Damian Sinclair. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“What have you heard?” he asked, his voice as cold as the ice in his glass.

Sydney laughed softly. “It’s in my best interest to hear things. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to do

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