The streets of the city blurred past as William sat in the backseat of the sleek black sedan, Marcus behind the wheel. The quiet hum of the engine and the smooth ride contrasted with the storm of thoughts in William's mind. He had secured his first business, claimed the grandest property in the city, and now, as the afternoon wore on, he knew it was time to take the next step in solidifying his presence.
He had left the Cain estate with nothing but the clothes on his back, and while that served him for a time, it was no longer enough. Power had to be shown, not just claimed. A statement needed to be made, and for that, William knew he needed to look the part.
The sedan pulled to a stop outside one of the city's most exclusive boutiques. The store's massive glass windows showcased mannequins dressed in luxurious designer suits, their price tags reflecting the level of wealth that only a few could afford. The kind of place where connections and reputation mattered almost as much as money.
William stepped out of the car, Marcus following close behind. The door to the boutique swung open as they approached, and the two men entered, drawing the attention of the sales staff inside. The store itself was a palace of luxury—polished marble floors, towering mirrors, and shelves lined with the finest clothing from the most prestigious designers.
A woman with sleek blonde hair, immaculately styled in a tight bun, stepped forward. Her features were sharp, her figure wrapped in an elegant designer dress that accentuated her poised demeanor. She smiled at William, but her eyes quickly scanned his casual clothes, and a flicker of disdain passed across her face.
"Good afternoon," she said in a smooth, practiced tone. "How may I assist you today?"
"I'm looking for a few suits," William replied calmly.
Her eyes lingered on his clothes again, a hint of condescension creeping into her smile. "Of course. Our suits start at ten thousand dollars. Are you sure this is the right place for you?"
Marcus stepped forward before William could respond. "He's sure," Marcus growled, his tone low and commanding. "And he's here to buy more than one. Get your best."
The saleswoman flinched slightly at Marcus's rough voice and intimidating presence. She quickly assessed the scar running down his cheek and the coldness in his eyes. Whoever these men were, they weren't the kind to be casually dismissed.
"Yes... of course," she stammered, her arrogance faltering as she backed away. "I'll bring a selection of our finest suits."
As she retreated to the back of the store, William sat down on one of the plush chairs near the fitting rooms. Marcus stood beside him, surveying the store with the sharp eyes of someone who had spent years at the top of the city's underworld. His mere presence made the salespeople nervous, though they tried their best to remain professional.
"You handled that well," William said, glancing up at Marcus.
Marcus gave a small nod, his voice a low rumble. "People like that—they think they're untouchable. I've seen it all before. They don't respect you unless you make them respect you."
William smiled faintly, knowing Marcus spoke from experience. "And they don't understand who they're dealing with."