Damien was on his feet instantly. "Grandfather."
Richard Blackwood entered the dining room with the kind of presence that made everyone else seem diminished. At seventy-eight, he was still tall, still imposing, with silver hair and sharp eyes that missed nothing.
"Damien, my boy." Richard's voice was warm as he embraced his grandson. "I hope you don't mind the surprise. Harold mentioned he was having a small dinner party and suggested I might want to attend. Incognito, as it were."
Damien's jaw clenched. Harold had set this up. Had arranged for his grandfather to observe Aria at her worst, struggling with silverware and social protocols she'd never needed before.
"I'm glad you're here," Damien said, though his tone suggested otherwise. "Though I wish I'd known."
"If you'd known, it wouldn't have been an honest observation, would it?" Richard's eyes moved past Damien to where Aria still sat, frozen in her chair. "And you must be Aria Chen."
