leveraged_buyout | First Sight

Lucien Moreau wasn't in town often, and that was the way Damien liked it. The less he saw the man who sired him the better, and even when the household was full of his spies who undoubtedly reported every little detail back to the old geezer, at least Damien didn't have to see him.

But if old Moreau arrived back on an early flight and summoned for his presence, as much as Damien didn't want to, he obeyed those summons. It didn't matter that he was still abed when the butler delivered them 15 minutes ago, his father demanded to see him and Damien obeyed.

It was only down the hall and into Moreau senior's private studies, but it still felt like it was going into another world. Damien's loafers clicked loudly on the tiles as he walked down the long hall of the west wing, the original section of the mansion that he normally avoided altogether. This was the old man's wing, a part of the ancient mansion that was inherited down generations, unlike the newer east and south wings which were added only shortly before Damien was born.

Dressed up presentably in a three piece suit, hair quickly slicked back to battle the his bedhead, Damien knocked on the large study doors and waited to be admitted. He covered his yawn with a fist as he waited, mind still blanked by the early morning to ponder the reason for the meeting.

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Eliot leans forward, elbows braced on his knees, and fixes Damien with a steady, intense look. "Just what the hell d'you think you've done that means I owe you respect?" he asks, and if he's not quite incredulous he's certainly serious. "I do my job, keep your ass safe, an' you go outa your way to make it harder. Not t'mention you've treated me like shit from day one."

Damien stiffened with affront and moved back in his chair while Spencer leaned forward. Being questioned that way was not something he way used to, or had happen to him before. "I'm Damien Moreau," he answered, at a loss for any other explanation. His status warranted respect and it baffled him that he was being questioned to defend it. "I... I'm your boss." His father still paid the bills, but Spencer was here to work for him, or so he was making clear. That had to mean something.

"No, actually, your old man's technically my boss. He's the one signing the checks. But I've fucked him off pretty thoroughly." Which could mean a severance check--or maybe just an attempt on his life--any damn time, and yet here he still was, trying to talk sense into a spoiled little rich boy who still thought he was fucking immortal, despite having his own damn father willing to gun for him.

"'Cause really, someone willing to fuck with their own kid like that." It comes out a growl, his expression twisting with clear disgust. Which is pretty much the reason he's still bothering at this point. It's definitely not any fondness for Damien that's got him riding the kid's ass like this. (And he doesn't even see the irony of thinking of him as a kid at this point, even if the man is a good three to four years older than him. Not with the way he's been acting.)

It was unmistakable what Damien's thoughts were with how the his expression stormed over with Spencer's mention of his old man. While he was shaken and upset with his head of security, it was outright fear and hate for his father.

"Which means I'm now your boss, unless you're still reporting to him. He's just payroll." And Damien's eyes flashed a challenge that told Spencer that if he didn't agree with this, his life and position was forfeit. It wasn't a kid saying that, but the sole heir to a great crime empire.

Eliot stares him down for a long, tense moment. Not blinking, sure as hell not backing down.

"Okay, then start fuckin' acting like it, instead of like a kid trying to hide weed in his room or sneak out on a god damn Saturday night," he finally growls.

Damien's eyes narrowed at the implied insult but he didn't otherwise react to it. It was enough that Spencer had as much assented that he now reported to Damien despite his disrespectful behavior.

"It's a Friday night," Damien corrected mildly instead, "And from now on it will be your job to accompany me hence saving my need to 'sneak out'."

Eliot still doesn't look away, still doesn't blink, still doesn't back down in the slightest, but at Damien's answer some of the hardness leaves his expression and he... sits back a little, hands still resting on his splayed knees.

"Sounds like a plan, boss." And there is something undeniably satisfied in his tone and expression.

Damien nodded with satisfaction and took a deep breath that he let out slowly. "It's settled then. I'm ready to head back. Assuming your car is just outside, you can trail me until there is a suitable place for you to park and you can drive me back in mine." It would look better than having Spencer trail him back in two cars, and it seemed like him going back alone was out of the question. "For your information, I have nothing hidden in my room."

"Well." Eliot's eyebrows bounce up slightly, and his lips twitch into a shadow of a smirk. "You might wanna get dressed again first, but other'n that it sounds like a plan. Boss. I'll be in the hall when you're ready."

And he slips to his feet, easy and casual as he heads towards the door. He looks back over his shoulder just as he reaches it, though. "You're a grown man," he points out mildly. "I sure as hell hope you don't think you'd need t'hide anything you'd want in your own damn room." And then he's out the door, pulling it shut silently behind him.

First Sight

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