Damian's POV
I arrived at the office five minutes after nine. Bentley was so bent on doing things for me, as if he owed me. It had been my decision to help him willingly, without expecting anything in return, but if he offered... well, I’d gladly accept.

My secretary called out, "Mr. Giovanni, sir."

"Yes?" I turned toward her.

"These are the files to be signed," she said, placing them on my desk. "They just came in recently," she added.

"Thanks, Emma. When is my next meeting with the directors?" I asked, grabbing a file to read through.

"Today, sir, at 1 p.m.," she answered.

"Okay," I nodded, flipping to the next page.

"This write-up is trash," I muttered, flipping to the next page again. "What department is this file coming from?" My brows furrowed.

"I-It's the design department," she stammered.

"This is just a poor copy of our competitor's." I pushed the file aside and picked up another.

"Emma, call the design director to my office," I commanded.

"Yes, sir," she answered and quickly left the room.

"They didn’t even bother to make the shape of the bottle less obvious; they might as well add their logo at this point," I grumbled aloud.

Emma soon returned with the director, who seemed to cower behind her like he already knew he was in trouble.

I cleared my throat and raised the file. "Mr. John, care to explain this?"

"Sir, it’s the design for your new product," he stuttered.

I took a deep breath, pausing to calm myself. "Do I look like a joke to you? Are you trying to make me look like a cheap copycat? Do you want me to lose money, huh?" My tone rose.

"No, sir! I would never," he stammered, his lips trembling.

"Good. I want this redone and submitted tomorrow by 9 a.m." I flung the file at his face.

He quickly picked it up from the floor. "Yes, sir," he said.

I squinted and added in a firm voice, "Don’t disappoint me. You’re dismissed."

The man bowed and scurried out of my office.

I twirled my chair and got up, strolling toward the glass wall for a better view of the bustling city and its skyscrapers.

***

After signing the final document, I glanced at Emma. "Set the place," I instructed.

"Of course, sir," she said with a small bow.

She moved to the twenty-seater conference table, arranging the chairs. The directors began to file into my office, taking their seats. Like criminals waiting to be sentenced, they seemed to hold their breaths.

I shifted in my chair, observing their rigid postures. "Let’s begin," I said indifferently, lacing my fingers together.

One by one, the directors reported on the day’s activities, sharing their plans and suggestions for the newly launched Spellbound fragrance.

As the last director spoke, I propped my cheek against my palm and sighed, glancing at my watch. I just want to go home. Can’t he speak faster?

My attention snapped back as I caught the end of his minute.

"Wait. I told you to finish that project last week... and you haven’t?" I raised a brow.

"Well... Sir—"

"Silence!" I banged the table, and the room went dead silent. Everyone flinched.

"Are you testing my patience?" I half-yelled. "We just released a new product, and the advertisement department is slacking?" I glared at them in disappointment.

"Do you want to screw me over?" I chuckled dryly, then nodded. "It’s fine. I just need to screw you over before you do." My tone dropped to an icy whisper.

"Emma!" I called, and she appeared almost immediately.

"Yes, sir!"

"Inform my directors that they have forty-eight hours to complete their one-hundred-and-sixty-eight-hour project. I don’t care how they do it."

Without sparing them a glance, I added, "Let’s call it a day. A day of grace."

I rotated my chair, tired of looking at their sorry excuses for faces. "Get out, all of you," I said sharply.

***

When I opened the door at home, I was greeted by the sweet aroma of a new dish. Bentley set down a book on the couch and stood up.

"Welcome. How was your day?" he asked.

I simply glanced at him and headed for the elevator, unwilling to recount the dreadful experience.

After a long bath, I went to the kitchen. Bentley had already served my food on a plate.

"Thanks," I said, taking a seat. As I scooped a spoonful, my gaze landed on bright plants in a vase.

"Why are there weeds in my kitchen?" I asked, my eyes darting to Bentley.

"Oh! I picked some flowers on my way back, you know? For the aesthetics. Aren’t they pretty?" he smiled, adjusting the white petals.

"Aesthetics? Luxury is my aesthetic," I scoffed, flashing a smirk.

"Throw them away," I instructed.

"What? Why?" Bentley asked, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"They’re dirt. They wither and die," I snapped.

Bentley glared at me as I continued eating, unbothered by his frustration.

He snatched the flowers and stomped out of the kitchen. Moments later, he grabbed his book from the living room and stormed upstairs, his steps echoing like those of Bigfoot. He could break the stairs for all I care.

I turned on the television and sank into the armchair, my gaze falling on the used dishes.

"Alpha, dirty dishes," I commanded.

"Dishwasher activated," the AI responded.

The ceiling opened, and robotic arms descended, gathering the plates and cleaning them.

Bentley dragged his feet back into the living room, his cheeks puffed out in annoyance. He took a seat and stole a glance at me from the corner of his brown eyes.

He cleared his throat, but I ignored him.

He did it again, louder this time.

Without looking up from my phone, I finally spoke. "Do you have something to say?" I forced a smile.

He exhaled. "I’m sorry for bringing weeds into your house," Bentley muttered, fumbling with his fingers.

My eyes widened slightly. He’s apologizing? That’s unexpected. Well, this is getting interesting.

I smirked and set my phone down.

Author's note:
Would you like to work with Mr. Giovanni?😆

Thanks for reading❤️
Don't forget to vote, comment, share, and add this to your reading list.