Chapter 11

At the last second, Damien grabbed his hand and in a flash, had Raymond spun around with his hand behind his back. The angry man yelped like a little girl as the pain finally registered to him.

"You were so angry just a second ago. You're telling me this is all you got?" Damien asked, sounding genuinely disappointed.

"Let me go, you fool. Do you know who I am? Let me go now or – ahhhhh."

Hearing his incessant spiel, Damien twisted his hand a bit more. Assholes like this never really learn until they hit rock bottom. Depending on how out of touch they are, some of them don't learn even then.

"Security, get over here now!" Abigail whispered into her earpiece. "I'm so sorry about your experience here today, sir. I promise it's not usually like this," she pleaded with Damien.

Still restraining Raymond, Damien casually replied. "Must be something in the air, huh?"

"Yes, maybe that's what it is," Abigail giggled.

The sight of the both of them casually conversing while Damien had a man's arm twisted behind his back was sort of comical. The other guest, despite their desire for decorum, had thoroughly enjoyed the drama that ensued. It was like having dinner and watching a live show. That didn't happen often.

Damien noted all the eyes on them.

"Look what you've done," he whispered for Raymond who had since stopped struggling. "You threw a tantrum now everyone has their eyes on you. Is this how you saw your night going, Ray?"

Raymond said nothing but his vibrating body told tales of the anger flooding him. He had dark thoughts for Damien in his mind. This random pauper who had his meal paid for by a woman thought he could humiliate him and get away with it? He would spare no expense to make Damien's obviously miserable life even more miserable.

He would make sure to burn down whatever cardboard box he lived in just so he would have to sleep in the cold. If Damien was on fire, he wouldn't piss on him to put it out. As the security escorted him out of Dames Court and Abigail told him he was banned, he glanced at Damien and locked the image of his smug face in his mind. Worse yet, Angela had come back and was staring at him with disdain; the bastard had also made him alienate his love. He vowed that the next time they met, the smugness would have changed to anguish. He could not rest until that was so.

"Are you okay?" Angela asked.

"I'm exhausted. Let's go to one of these houses you spoke of," Damien answered. "The closest one you can access."

"There's a lounge here you can use. That would cut your travel time down to nothing," Abigail interjected eagerly, fixing Damien with a pointed stare. "I'll be there personally to attend to all your… needs."

Angela glared at the side of her head. "He needs a house, not a lounge." And then to Damien with the brightest smile she could muster. "I can remotely access all of them."

Damien considered this for a moment. "Abigail," Angela's face dropped while Abigail did her beat to hide her excitement. "I like the idea of no travel time since I'm so tired but not tonight. I'll take a raincheck on that."

"Oh. That's no problem sir. Anytime. I'm always open. Have a good night." Angela couldn't help her smirk. She knew Abigail was burning inside as she walked away.

"So, which will it be?" She asked.

"Dealers choice. Take us to the best one."

And indeed she did. Once the white house with dark highlights here and there came into view, Damien instantly fell in love with it. It looked exactly like those modern houses he'd seen in magazines and on Courtney's shows.

"This is perfect."

Angela smiled. "I'm glad you like it but you haven't even seen the interior."

And like it, he did. She gave him a tour but it wasn't necessary. The relatively small four bedroom duplex was pretty easy to navigate.

"Sir, there's a change of clothes in the closet. I had someone bring it here earlier. We'll need to get you a whole new wardrobe tomorrow, a lot of suits and ties to fit your new role."

"Only a few suits. I prefer the casual look."

"But sir, you're the CEO. You need –"

"Casual. Report me to the boss if you don't like it," he said as he trudged to the master bedroom.

Angela had a retort right on the tip of her tongue, ready to fire back but decided to swallow it. He was right. He was the boss and could do whatever he wanted.

The next morning came and Damien met her awake, typing away at her tablet sitting on a kitchen stool. The smell of coffee had roused him awake and down to the kitchen.

"Good morning sir, I have the day fully planned out. First we'll go get you those clothes and then we'll–"

"Good morning, Angela. I slept well, thanks. You?" Damien said as he poured himself a cup of freshly brewed coffee.

"I slept well. And then I'll have to brief you for an event we have to attend. A heads up, your ex-wife and her family will probably be there."

Damien took a sip, feeling the hot liquid raced down his throat, heating up his insides all the way down. "Noted. What's this event."

"It's a fundraiser. The one that man at the restaurant was talking about yesterday. I could rescind their invitation if you want."

"Are we hosting the event?"

"No sir. But we hold a lot of influence."

Damien's eyes widened. "That much?"

"Much more than you can imagine. You can request a meeting with the president if you want. That reminds me, I'll have to arrange that meeting soon. Just tell me when you're ready."

Damien was in awe. Did all this really happen overnight? Just the previous day, he'd been humiliated at Dame's Court and on the same night, he came back as the owner.

All the way to the clothing store, Angela was trying to tell him something but his mind was a storm of thoughts.

He'd practically stumbled into all of this. He needed to learn things so he could do a good job. He could fumble things. He would have to meet with his grandfather.

"We're here," Angela said.

They went into the store and Damien's nostrils were filled with the exotic smells and fantastic sights; bright lights with different catchy signs adorned the entrance of the different stores. He couldn't quite put his finger on the scent but if he had to name it, he would call it luxury. It was like its own world, designed to draw you in and keep you there, spending all your money.

"This way." Angela led him to one of the stores, with a glass entrance, row after row with racks of suits of all colours and sizes.

"Only a few," Angela said when she noticed the apprehensive look on his face.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Damien knew that shrill voice anywhere so he wasn't surprised to find Alisons glaring at him. What was surprising though was the sight of Andy following close behind her.