Damian's POV
I dressed in my black suit and walked to my five-layer Cologne shelf. "Which one should I wear today?" I glanced at the various items and then chose the classic from my brand. Perfect for Monday mornings.
I slipped my iPhone into my pocket and picked up an ice watch from my ice collection. My eyes darted to the camera and phone on my bedside table, which belonged to the random straight guy I found in a gay club.
A negative thought crossed my mind. "Why did I approve of a stranger living in my house full of valuables?" I mumbled to myself. He told me his story, but that doesn't mean I should trust him a hundred percent.
"Hey Alpha, keep watch on Bentley; report any suspicious move to me," I said. It replied, "Noted, sir." I carried my suitcase and took the elevator to the ground floor. A flavorsome aroma from the kitchen filled the air.
As I entered the kitchen, Bentley slowly placed a blueberry on top of the pancakes. "Perfect," he said, then darted to me. "Oh! Bentley glanced at me and said, "I didn't see you there."
"You look good, hungry? I made breakfast; it's edible," he pushed a plate to me. "Ah... thank you," I hesitated, contemplating if I should have breakfast or skip so I could get to work faster, but since he was done, I could just take a few bites. I pulled a seat, raised my fork, and then gulped. I hope it tastes as delicious as it looks.
I closed my eyes and took a bite; the perfect mix of eggs, milk, flour, and vanilla flavor melted in my mouth. The world slowed down as I munched the most heavenly pancakes I've ever had in my thirty years of living. My eyes enlarged, and I paused to process the feeling. Bentley stared at me in anticipation. "Well... do you like it?" I dipped the pancakes in chocolate syrup and gobbled it in a few seconds.
I dabbed my mouth with a napkin. "Excuse me," I cleared my throat. "It was impressive." Bentley exhaled. "Thanks for the review." I arched my brow at his statement, then got up. "I'm off, bye." I followed the house exit to get to the garage. "Alpha, the garage door."
"Garage door, opened," an automatic voice replied. I walked briskly into the Range Rover section and pressed the unlock button on the car key. I pressed the start button and zoomed off to work.
***
I darted to the silver clock on the wall, which read 1:40 p.m. I checked my watch after some minutes, and it read 1:45 pm. I was stuck in a meeting, and I'll think about what I ate for breakfast. Pancakes, pancakes, pancakes. I'd like some pancakes. I glimpsed at the clock again, and it read 1:47 pm.
I yelled inwardly. "Two minutes? Just two minutes! Why is today so slow?" I tapped my hands on the table hastily, hoping time would move faster if I didn't look at the clock every second. "Sir? Sir? Hello," a voice called.
"Oh! Yes?" I turned to the table of directors, sharing their weekly objectives and the resources required to achieve them. As the CEO of Giovanni Imperial Company, it's a little innovation I brought up to give my employees insights and keep them focused for the week.
"I was asking if maybe we should put more investments in the advertisement department to reach a wider audience; our product packaging seems fine to me."
"Hmm... I'll consider," I answered. I darted to my watch. "Good work, everyone. Let's close five minutes earlier," I said, flashing a smile. "Yes, sir!" they chorused. I drove straight home after the meeting. My mind flooded with pictures of his pancakes. I sighed. "I can't wait to eat them again; maybe I'll ask him to make it for dinner," I darted to the rumbling of my stomach.
"But I told him not to help with anything at home, ugh!" I frowned. I parked the car and jogged to the doorstep like I was expecting to magically see pancakes. I took off my shoes and flung the door open. A savory smell greeted my already hungry stomach, enticing me to eat it straight from the cooker, half-done or not.
Bentley turned to me, wearing a brown apron. "Ah, welcome back," he said. He faced the pot on the cooking gas, then continued stirring it with a long wooden spoon. "I know you told me not to do anything, but I can't sit for hours doing nothing," Bentley said, sprinkling some spices. He glanced at me. "Lunch will be ready in a few minutes; are you hungry?"
"A bit, I'll wash up first." I climbed the stairs to the second floor and entered my room. I dropped my suitcase on the table, then hurriedly undressed. A smile formed at the corner of my lips. "He made lunch; how thoughtful."
I took a quick shower and changed into black trousers and a binge-sleeve shirt. I folded it up to my elbows, then took the elevator downstairs. I walked into the kitchen; Bentley had already dished out my food on a plate and poured chilled orange juice into a glass cup.
"Spaghetti and meatballs, try it," Bentley said, pushing his glasses, then staring at me. I sat down and glimpsed at his plate; he hadn't taken a bite. Has he been waiting for me? I twisted my fork, then put the wrapped-up spaghetti in my mouth.
My taste buds embraced the most spicy and well sauced pasta I've eaten. I pierced the meat and took a bite, my eyes lit in its tender juiciness. His food just keeps getting better and better. I gave him a thumbs up, then rushed to eat.
Bentley smiled. "You want more? I made plenty; it's in the pot." "Yeah, I'll have some," I said almost immediately, then he chuckled. We relaxed in the living room after lunch. I darted to Bentley in one of my undersized shirts I bought a while ago and abandoned in the visitor's wardrobe.
The gray sweatshirt covered his whole palms so that only his fingers could be seen and reached the middle of his thighs, while his dark blue jeans swept the floor as he walked.
I hesitated, then spoke. "Bentley, if you're staying, you need clothes of your own." He darted to what he was wearing, then raised his gaze to me. "Oh, sorry, I don't have any."
"Let's go shopping," I said, rising.