It was Damien's turn to stiffen, both at the atrocity of the hired gun daring to reply and the rudeness of his answer. Damien was surprised his father allowed for it, most likely only because the rudeness was directed at Damien.

"I wasn't speaking to you," Damien snapped coolly, not even sparing the younger man a glance. Eyes still fixed on the old man, Damien showed he was still demanding for a satisfactory answer that he clearly didn't get from Spencer.

Of course, he didn't get one. "I don't have to explain my decisions to you."

"Which means I should be expecting one. Very well." The old man's fist suddenly slammed hard on the desk and Damien started. He recovered quickly, straightening to compensate and folded his hands behind his back. "If there's nothing else I'll be on my way."

Damien tried to turn to go, beat a retreat without looking like it, but halted at the "Stand right there!" behind him. He did, shoulders tense, while his father instructed, "Show Spencer around. I am leaving for Iceland this afternoon."

Damien hoped his plane would crash. "....Yes, father."