"If you lose weight…."
Damien's smirk didn't waver. "What is the estimated weight?"
"You are tall," Dominic mused, gaze flicking down Damien's frame with detached scrutiny. "At 1.82 meters, the ideal weight for someone lean would be around eighty-five kilograms."
Damien raised a brow, waiting.
"But," Dominic continued, his lips curling into the faintest hint of a smirk, "for the sake of this bet, I will be generous."
Owen's eyes slightly narrowed at that word.
"Ninety-five."
Damien's grin didn't falter. If anything, it deepened, a slow stretch of amusement playing across his lips as he leaned back slightly in the too-small chair.
"Ninety-five, huh?" he mused. His fingers tapped lightly against the armrest before his gaze flickered back to his father. "And how much time do I have?"
Dominic didn't answer immediately. Instead, he exhaled, his sharp gray eyes narrowing ever so slightly before he spoke again.
