Oliver quickly averted his gaze and raised the menu, *Fuck. His heart began thumping uncontrollably as cold sweats broke on his forehead. He needed to get away quickly. He stood up with the room spinning all of a sudden.
He rushed to the washroom where he got out the pills taking another set yet again. He hunched over the white sink staring straight at his reflection, shoulder-length olive hair relaxing on his shoulders with olive skin and hazel eyes.
He didn't have a phone to send an escape message to Bob. All he could do was try to sneak out, maybe he didn't see them enter.
He stepped out of the washroom and took a deep breath to calm himself down before he began heading back to the restaurant only to be stopped by a blond man in black, looking younger than Bob. He tried to ignore the man and get past him just for him to barricade his way.
"Mr. Oliver Tomlinson Brooks?" The man spoke in a smoky voice. He sounded like a jerk.
"How did you know me?" Oliver stepped back, hitting a button on his ring that caused a small and barely noticeable point to pop. He got ready to attack the villain.
"Calm down, young prince." The man smiled spitefully.
Oliver stepped back even more only to have the man grab his wrist quickly, and he reacted by sending a punch with the point that the man caught mid air.
"Be careful there prince." He chuckled.
"Get your hands off me!" Oliver yelled.
"Calm down. Mr. Christopher Brooks wants to see you."
*He sent this arrogant shit. For me?
"Leave me now," Oliver ordered and the blond man obeyed.
"He is in VIP table 7," he added. Oliver feels trapped and has no other choice than to comply.
He followed the man, and they both met Bob who was coming for him while wearing a worried expression.
Oliver rehearsed his lines as he approached the table filled with wealthy men and women from all corners of the world, which was not surprising because he had witnessed that more than once.
All eyes lifted up to stare at him. He felt slightly uncomfortable which was stupid. A Brooks should be able to handle the attention.
Christopher stood up wrapping an arm around Oliver's small frame. "And this is one of my heirs, my hopes are placed on him. Oliver Tomlinson Brooks, my son." He introduced.
"It is a pleasure," Oliver said in a cold voice and the people nodded complimenting his looks and posture, even when he had taken after his mother's slim frame, like an elf, with pale olive but soft skin which his father often shamed him for.
He was forced to assist the meeting and pay great attention to what his father and the contributors were saying even when he wished he was somewhere far away from where he was.
Shortly after the meeting, Oliver got into his father's Limousine along with The blond man and some other bodyguards.
The ride was silent with his father talking on the phone and drinking a cup of whiskey.
When they got to his penthouse which was way too luxurious and large for one person to be dwelling all alone in there, Christopher started his complaints looking cross like Oliver had always known him to be.
"Just a single task and you were unable to complete it!" He barked.
Oliver stood with his head hung and hands behind his back.
"That was very irresponsible of you, three weeks after your transfer and you're already misbehaving, ignoring your work, Zilda would soon be under your name and I want you to be serious about it. You just turned 18, and you're already working towards your bachelor in business with a business school certificate already on your shelf, soon you'll be doing your master's and Ph.D. I want you to be serious about this. Don't disappoint me any further."
"Father, I just needed a break." Oliver finally admitted
Christopher turned around and shut him up with a slap, landing on his cheek painfully by the sound. Oliver gasped at impact but remained silent.
"Shut the fuck up, son, I have come all the way to this place and you would not disappoint me. Only God knows what kind of friends you hang out with and what you do half of the time. Maybe drugs? Cause you would be damned to be talking back to me. You're lanky and small, you look weak, at least prove that appearance doesn't make it all by working hard enough!" His Emerald eyes glared at him furiously.
"Bob! Tim!" He called out furiously and the two men came into the living room answering with sir.
"Bob, you're fired, you're not good enough for my son's safety. Tim, you'll be on his back twenty-four seven. Any mistake I'll be kicking you out too."
Oliver looked up with wide eyes. "Father, n-"
"I didn't ask you to speak!" Christopher snapped, causing Oliver to flinch, returning to his silent mode.
"I'm returning to Britain today, I hope I won't be hearing any irresponsibility from you." He stepped forward reaching for Oliver's shoulders.
"I just want what's best for you, son." He muttered. "And if I have to be harsh, so be it."
"I understand, sir." Oliver murmured.
"Goodnight." Christopher stepped away after petting his head.
Oliver walked to the window watching him leave with his bodyguards.
He turned around to stare at Bob with a sigh, "I'll pay 5 million into your account. Thank you for your service." He said trying his hardest not to look affected.
He retreated to his room after walking through the long and silent hall. Where he shut his door taking a sigh.
His father was no surprise to him, the man was obsessed with business and wealth which should be why his mother divorced. All his life he had known only that, belittlement from his father, on his looks, his voice and all! The man had forced him to study till he was calculating in his dreams.
All he wanted was to be an artist. A shattered dream of course! if it would happen then it would be after his father had gone to meet the host in heaven.
He sat down on his desk, pulling out a book, he flipped through the pages revealing his hand works. Beautiful portrays and more. He grabbed his pencil and began sketching.
He wouldn't let his father find out about his pills and side course. He would be furious.
"Far from home." He wrote in a beautiful font above the sketch.