Damion Lancaster is Secretly The Trillionaire Boss

Chapter 5: Young Master

The sidewalk was a little hot and Damion drew himself up sharply, cursing repeatedly at the world and at himself.

“Should have known better than to go in there,” he swore, dusting his jeans which had now collected a little dust from the sidewalk. 

He picked his phone up and tapped at the screen. It was worse for wear, but amazingly, it still came on when he tapped on it. 

The time was almost 10 o'clock in the morning and he still hadn't gotten to Lance Towers. He also hadn't been able to change into an appropriate outfit. He had managed to get a tear on his jeans now. 

Damion didn't want to go anywhere at all, anymore. He felt very reluctant to head to Lance Towers, seeing how badly today was already going. 

If he just hadn't done what the woman had told him to. If he'd stayed on his decision

Damion didn't feel like going anywhere else after being treated poorly. If that woman hadn't suggested that he do this, then he wouldn't have been humiliated like this. 

He was a lowlife, a dirtbag and poverty stricken guy to the type of people that went into Pearla to shop. He should have fucking known better, but he infact did, he'd just allowed himself to be swayed. 

He walked a ways down from the boutique, stopping at the end of the sidewalk to take in traffic. 

Was he going to Lance Towers or should he just call it quits and go back home?

But the rent he did not have bothered him. And that extremely huge amount of money that the lady had the guts to call 'pocket money’ last night was still sitting in his bank account, in his possession.

He had to know what exactly was going on here. 

He stopped another cab, and finally told the driver to take him to Lance Towers. 

Lance Towers was a cluster of three of the tallest skyscrapers in the city, where millions of the corporate ants worked. Lance Towers was a conglomerate, a force to be reckoned with and they were always on the news for one new technology or another. 

Damion didn't know why exactly that was the meeting point and he couldn't even begin to guess. 

He settled in the back seat of the cab, pushing down the anger and humiliation whenever he remembered what he had just been through at Pearla. 

Classy establishment his ass. He had never heard of a place that threw someone out just because he looked poor. 

Wasn't it the business they wanted? Fucking hell, he had simply wanted to get clothes. Not rob the store, not steal the suit, just a quick in and out for an outfit that made him look presentable.

As it was, he had failed, but he wasn't ready to be humiliated again because he wanted to dress nicely. 

~

The cab driver had been around the block twice, looped the entire Lance Towers and still couldn’t find where the crap he was supposed to park. 

Every single parking space was taken and he was running down his gas by driving around like that. He kept muttering and cursing under his breath.

Lance Towers was seriously the hive of business. 

“Could you just slow down anywhere? I'll hop out of the car as fast as I can, and then you can get going.”

The driver nodded. “That would be best. What about my money?”

“Oh, fuck.” Damion slipped out his phone and proceeded to run the transfer to the driver. 

He slowed down in the middle of the road and as impatient drivers and cyclists honked all around them, Damion rushed out of the car and slammed the door shut. 

He rushed through the traffic, taking care not to get plastered to the asphalt by an oncoming vehicle. He rushed to the Skyscraper in the middle of the three, the main building. 

There was Lance Towers in huge block letters at the very top of the building, visible to people miles away. The entire place screamed of the money that was being made inside those doors. 

Gleaming four-wheel drives, and little convertibles, and push bikes, with a garish company cycle for life poster on the side of the bike rack.

Damion had been to this part of town before, in fact he was almost always here, doing deliveries for pizza and sometimes when he worked at the coffee shop he delivered coffee in the mornings and during the day in most of the business complexes here. 

He straightened his shirt sleeves, and made his way to the front door. He met security men outside the door and he greeted them with head nods, glad when they immediately didn't label him a thief, even though they threw him doubtful looks. 

He entered inside through the revolving doors and cut a path towards reception. He saw how people avoided his path, and he tried not to be affected by it. 

Reception was chrome and marble, and the reception desk was a huge aquarium with brightly coloured tropical fish swimming about. Talk about overkill. The receptionist was wearing grey, with one of those feminine ruffly neck ties. 

She smiled across the counter, but she was all gritted and condescending, Damion could see it in her eyes.

“I have an appointment here today,” Damion said, and she raised an eyebrow.

“An appointment with who, Mister?”

“I'm not really sure, I was told to give my name and the reception would know where to direct me?”

The lady scoffed, beginning to give him a distrustful look. “Okay, what's the name then?”

“Damion Lancaster.” he supplied, making it a point to say his name with confidence. He might not be getting accorded respect when he walked into a place, but it would never be said he didn't carry himself with dignity. 

She flashed him a look designed to draw blood, but he didn’t flinch, just smiled.

She then flipped through a sort of logbook in front of her, before reaching for the phone. After a few minutes talking on the phone, she hung up and turned her attention back to Damion, albeit reluctantly. 

She pursed her lips and eyeballed Damion before she gestured to the lounge chairs in the lobby. 

Her tone was light and her smile was bright and far too big for her face.“They will send someone down for you soon,” she said. “Please, take a seat.” Even her voice sounded cocky and full of herself. 

Damion took a seat, and helped himself to a coffee from the swanky machine. He hadn't had anything to eat since morning, and he was beginning to feel the pangs of hunger in his belly.

As time passed, he flicked through a load of boring industry magazines that practically sent him back to sleep, and was flicking through the stuck-up, jargon-speak job adverts in the back of one when someone cleared their throat in front of him.

Another little minion, another little grey suit, but this one’s neck scarf was polka dot, trying to be trendy. She held out a hand, and Damion thought she wanted him to shake hands with her. 

He reached for her hand but she sharply withdrew hers.

It seemed she didn't want a handshake after all. “Sir, can you please sit at the waiting chairs next to the security booth?”

Damion frowned up at her. “But why? There's no one who needs my seat, and I'm quite comfortable here.”

She shook her head. “We don't exactly know when you will be called up, so instead can you just wait over there?”

What a joke. Damion stood up with a sigh, and moved to the far corner of the security men's booth, sitting there and crossing his arms in front of his chest. 

He stayed there, hours passing by as he repeatedly checked the clock in that reception, seeing time fly by as no one else came to him. 

Had they forgotten he was here? The receptionist hadn't said anything further since he walked into the building and straight to her. 

He got up and returned to the front desk. “Hi,” he greeted the lady behind the desk again. “I've been here for hours now. Is no one coming to take me to my appointment?”

She rolled her eyes, hissing underneath her breath. “Please could you go back to where you just were…sir? You're discouraging people from approaching the receptionist.”

“What the hell are you trying to say? I've been here for hours and no one has attended to me. And you want me to go ahead and sit back again?”

The girl nodded. “Yes, precisely. It is a good thing that you can actually hear.” she rolled her eyes and went back to peering at the computer screen before her. 

Defeated, for now, Damion returned to his chair, sliding into it with a frustrated sigh. 

He stayed there, watching the lobby as workers and visitors both teemed in and out of the lobby and then fell asleep, leaning down to the arm of the waiting chair beside him. 

Soon, it was already 5 in the evening, and workers began to troop outside the complex, leaving for the day. Damion woke with a start, and saw that even the reception desk was now empty.

He got up to go and meet the security men outside and ask them what he could do then, when the elevator chimed. A woman who looked to be in her thirties, in a pristine grey pants suit stepped out, flanked by three men in black with black shades on, as if they were bodyguards. 

Damion's focus was on the woman as she moved towards the entrance to leave as well. 

Damion rushed to go and her. Before he could get to the woman, one of the hefty bodyguards snagged him by the lapel of his chest, raising him up.

“What the hell? I'm not a threat, why the hell are you fucking manhandling me?”

The bodyguard dropped Damion, he was breathing hard, his heart running a minute per mile. 

He faced the woman. She was very put together, her light makeup was attractive and her hair was packed in a tight bun.

“I've been here since earlier this morning, ma'am, and everyone has refused to attend to me. They've all gone and stiy, no one gave me an update on my appointment.”

The woman looked at him. “What is your name, Mister?”

Damion swallowed. Saying his name had gotten him mixed reactions yesterday and today. He wondered what it would do now. 

“Lancaster. Damion Lancaster.”

The woman paled, hee face going white. She turned to the burly bodyguard that had harassed Damion.

“You, you're fired. Get out of here, immediately.”

The man looked stunned and more than a little confused. He pulled off his posh glasses and went on his knees. “Whatever I have done, please forgive me, ma'am.”

The woman then bowed before Damion, bee hands beside her in a straight line. “Young Master.”