Damion Lancaster is Secretly The Trillionaire Boss

Chapter 4: Not Pearla Worthy

Damion watched as his phone smashed against the hard wooden floors and bounced, sliding across a few feet away. 

He raised wide, furious eyes to the sales rep. “Are you insane? What the hell did you do that for?”

He rushed to pick up his phone, his heart thundering in his chest furiously. This phone was one of his most cherished properties and he couldn't function properly without it. 

He didn't have any money to replace it if anything happened to it even. 

He snatched the phone from the floor, and stared at it, turning it over in his hand. Only half the screen was cracked and the light still worked. 

He glowered at the sales rep again. “What the fuck man?”

The sales rep walked in a threatening stride ro Damion. “Excuse me, Sir,” he sneered, “Pearla is not a place for low life wannabes to come in and fucking take pictures of the clothes without buying anything.”

Damion gestured widely at the suit he had his sights set on. “What the fuck do you mean? I was just about to ask about the suit over there!”

The sales rep looked at the other customers and turned back to Damion. “Could you lower your voice? You're disturbing our customers shopping.”

Oh, and he wasn't a customer? Damion thought, enraged. “You broke my fucking phone. You broke my fucking phone man, and then you're telling me to lower my fucking voice?”

“I don't appreciate your tone, Sir,” the sales rep had that sneer in his tone again. “We both know the routine for dirtbags like you. You wear the clothes, take pictures with them and pass them off as yours, and then you leave, without paying for any damn thing.”

The sales rep turned, beckoning the security men at the entrance of the boutique. 

Damion knew then he was fucked. They wanted to throw him out because he looked to them like a fraud. 

“No, no. This is a mistake. Look, I actually want to pay for the suit, I'm not just window shopping or trying to fake it.”

The sales rep laughed scornfully, still looking at him belligerently. “Yeah, right. You're a thief. You probably had the plans to steal it, didn't you?”

Damion's eyes skipped to the security guards, his eyes narrowing. “I said I meant to buy the suit. I haven't committed any crime, why are you doing this?”

“You haven't committed a crime, yet. I'm removing you from here before you actually do, and then cost me my freaking job, man. Seriously, you reek of desperation.” 

The sales rep shifted aside for the security men who were dressed in green shirt and black trousers uniform, their guns holstered at their hip. 

Damion couldn't believe it. 

One of the customers was nodding behind the sales rep. And Damion could hear some of them whispering around him. 

“...he totally looks like such a low life thief.”

“I can't believe Pearla would let such a haggard, dirty individual into their establishment. Just look at him.”

Damion swallowed, the air conditioning unit was still on full blast, but he was sweating. He rubbed sweaty palms against his jeans. 

The security men walked up to them at that moment. 

“Hello, Paul, what's going on here?” They addressed the sales rep, but they were really looking at Damion, focused on him in a bid to cut an intimidating profile. 

Before the sales rep could say anything that damned him before the security men, Damion spoke up. “I'm merely here to get a good outfit, a change of clothes. I heard Pearla was the best place for shopping for clothes and I decided I'd better come here. I never thought I'd be harassed this way.”

The sales rep chuckled, his eyes roving Damion up and down. “Way to go with the sob story, champ. You think you can fucking walk in here, lie through your dirty lips and deceive all of us?”

“He probably lies for a living,” one of the customers said. 

“Or steals!” another one screamed out. 

The boutique was getting a little rowdy, shoppers stopping their shopping and perusing to watch what was going on once they saw the security men were also there. 

One of the security men cleared his throat. His voice rumbled. He was a burly man, with thick biceps and a military cut. “Young man, you're making the shopping experience unpleasant for the rest of the shoppers. You come in here with the intention to steal?”

“What the fuck? What in the hell is this?”

The other security man advanced, pushing into Damion's personal space. “I don't appreciate being cursed at, fella. Now you watch yourself and what you say, otherwise I'll have to do something about it.”

This one was the smaller of the two guards. He had to look up at Damion even as he dished out the threats. 

Damion held up his hands, palm out in a placating move. “I don't mean to aggravate the issue, but I don't appreciate being called a thief when I haven't stolen anything.” he argued, borrowing the security man's words. 

“Search him then.” Someone called out. It was a woman, and she held a shopping bag in her hands. 

“Yeah, who knows if he's already swiped something? This store is full of designer products that can fit inside his pockets.”

Damion felt insulted beyond measure. It seemed they were intent on serving him insults and humiliation for breakfast. 

His lips set in a thin,hard line as he clenched his fists. 

The sales rep jaw tightened, as he looked at Damion's fists by his sides. “What? You're getting worked up over getting searched? Then that means you stole something!” he said, flinging his arms around to encompass the entire space, “Everyone here is suspicious of you for a reason.”

Damion held his head high even though he was furious. He wasn't a thief. Despite the tough times, all the days he'd been broken and struggling, in fact he was still all that, he never ever thought of robbing others to better himself. 

He swallowed tightly. “Go right ahead and search me, then.” 

He raised his hands up. 

The security men shared a look and then turned to the sales rep. They seemed a little unsure what to do. 

“Search him.” The sales rep snapped, tapping his feet against the floor repeatedly.

The burly security man approached Damion, and started to search him. He ran his hands over Damion's pockets, dipping his fingers into them. Then he searched his trouser pockets, he then ran his hand over possible hiding places on Damion's clothes.

He came up with nothing. His search was fruitless.

Damion glared at the sales rep. “Are we done here?” he asked with derision. 

The sales rep shook his head. “I'd still like you to leave. You're making the boutique uncomfortable for Pearla shoppers.”

Damion's mouth twisted and he frowned mutinously. “How can you want to throw me out when I only came to shop and there's no evidence that I'm a thief?”

“You can't shop here, Sir.” the sales rep refused, adding the sir with a condescending drawl. 

A voice boomed from behind them, causing everyone to turn to whoever it was. “What the hell is going on out here, Paul?”

Paul visibly paled. Hole stuttered as he replied to the man. “Sir-sir, it is this man.”

Damion turned to the new man, he looked rich and sophisticated, wearing a black shirt tucked into black suit trousers. 

He looked furious as well as harried. “I've been getting calls from customers who insist that there's a ruckus in my establishment?”

Understanding dawned on Damion. This was the owner of Pearla. He looked every inch a savvy businessman.

“Explain and do it quickly, Paul.” The man barked. 

One of the security men intervened. “Mr Ryan, there has been suspicions that this man here is a thief or that he came in here with intentions to rob the store.”

Ryan's eyes grew steely. He didn't even look at Damion. His furious gaze stayed on Paul and the security men. 

“And you still allow him to be here why?” he asked, his voice rising on every word. 

Paul gulped. “We were…we wanted to ascertain if he was truly a—”

Ryan was having none of it. “Pearla is a classy establishment and I will not have anyone damaging our reputation and disturbing the peace and tranquillity of this place. Get him out here.” he gritted out, turned on his heel and walked back towards his office. 

Damion's brain rang with his words but he stiffened as the two security men each grabbed an arm. He struggled in their grip as they dragged him towards the glass doors of the establishment. “Let me go. Fucking let me down, I can walk on my own two legs.”

They pushed open the doors and shoved him outside, the force they used in shoving him sending him to his knees as he fell to the outside sidewalk.