Seducing The Billionaire Boss

Tired

Damien walked into his office. The leftover pile of paperwork neatly arranged on top of his office desk greeted him. He stared down at them for two minutes straight, then he groaned out loud. How has he been doing this? That, he didn't know, but what he did know is that he couldn't do this any longer. He needed a personal assistant. He walked over to his office chair and sat down. The last thing he felt like doing was work, and he didn't. He took out his phone to call Lucas. He answered at the third ring.

"Hey, bro, I need your help."

"Damien, if this is about that-"

"No, this is not about her." Damien cuts him off before he finish speaking.

"Thank goodness, so you want me to hook you up with someone else?" Damien knew he was smiling. He could hear it in his voice.

"No, not that. I'm very capable of getting myself a woman. I need a personal assistant." Damien said, taking a look at the pile in front of him. He then sighed.

"Oh, finally. I wonder how you've been going on without one."

"Honestly, man, I wonder too." Damien replied, glaring down at the pile. "You think you can help me get one?"

"Yeah, I'll just put that up as a job vacancy on the net and my socials."

"Thanks, man."

"So you want someone who you can bang every day, you know, a quickie during work hours if you know what I mean."

"Shut the f**k up, Lucas. All I need is a personal assistant." Damien replied, chuckling.

Lucas laughed out from the other end. "Just asking. Knowing you, I'm sure that will come in handy."

"Ouch, I'm not that bad," Damien said, laughing. "Just get me a PA as soon as you can." Without waiting for a reply, he cut the call.

Why did Lucas have to remind him of Celine? For some time, at least, he could get her out of his mind. Damien had made a complete fool of himself in front of Lucas earlier this morning. Not that he cared. Lucas was his best friend, after all. His problem was himself. He desperately wanted to get this woman out of his mind.

This exhibition of idiocy was so unlike him, and he was irritated with himself. He looked at the pile of paperwork on his desk. Maybe he needed to get to work after all. That would help to get his mindless busy thinking about Celine.

A few hours into working, he got interrupted by a call on his phone. Before picking the phone, he looked at his wristwatch. It was 1 pm. He had lost track of time. That was usually the case when he got engrossed with work. He picked the call.

"Hello."

"Hello sir, this is Mrs Lydia, manager of one of your boutiques."

"Well, hello Lydia, I have a lot of boutiques and I know they're not all managed by one person, so can you be specific?"

"My apologies, sir, I do tend to forget that. I was talking about Trés Chic."

"Fine. Lydia, any problem?"

"No, no problem at all. I was calling to inform you that the boutique needs restocking, and some unsold ones have become outdated for the rich class. We are thinking of reselling them to lower class shops, but if you could come down here and check them out, it would be nice."

"What time does the boutique close?"

"5 pm, sir."

"My schedule today is not that tight, so I'll be there."

"Thank you. I'll be waiting, sir." Damien cut the call. He looked at his watch again.

It was now 1:20 pm.

He could use this break from sitting down and working all day. Damien stood up and stretched, relieving the strain on his muscles.

He had made progress with the paperwork. The new PA could handle the rest.

He picked up his keys and phone from his desk and left the office. The building was busy with dedicated workers all over the place, trying to get work done. He was greeted by several of them as he made his way out of the building.

Most of them made an effort to impress him, while others didn't care less. He chuckled when the security guy stationed at the exit door took a bow as he crossed. Get a grip people, your salaries aren't going to be increased by such unnecessary displays, nor is it going to be reduced if you don't put up all the acting.

He got to Trés Chic in less than an hour. Too exhausted to drive, he had used a cab to get there. He was very capable of affording a driver, but after his experience with the last one, he decided against it.

His former driver had died from a heart attack. He was in his late seventies. It could have been bearable for him to handle if he hadn't become so attached to him. The man was a father figure. He hardly considered him his driver, and he went as far as getting to know his family, having dinner with the ones in a while and providing their needs outside his salary.

When he passed away, Damien was so devastated. Damien decided not to get so attached to someone again. It was why he decided against replacing him.

Not wanting to bring those memories fresh in his mind, he quickly dismissed the thoughts and walked into the boutique. A young lady who looked like she was in her late twenties was seated at the counter attending to one of the customers. The customer wore clothes that looked quite expensive. They were not any less pricey than what she was about to buy. A bunch of dresses were being checked and bagged for her. Damien wondered if she wanted to change her whole wardrobe. He stood at a corner and waited for the two to finish up.

He looked around the boutique. The boutique did need restocking, though it wasn't scanty. It had the adequate amount of dresses any ordinary boutique should have. Except that Trés Chic was not your average. It was a first-class boutique. Only the rich could afford the clothing here. He had other less expensive boutiques and even more expensive ones than Trés Chic, but Trés Chic was the most popular of them all.

"Sir? Sir?! Are you there?" His attention came back to the lady on the counter. She looked irritated. It seemed she had been trying to get his attention for quite some time.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Damien asked. His face was unapologetic.

"I said can I help you? Look, if you're not here to buy anything, can you leave?"

"No, I'm not here to buy anything-"

"I thought as much. You've been standing there for some time doing nothing." She interrupted.

"I understand if you came in here thinking that this a low-class boutique, but now you've realized it's not, feel free to leave." She said curtly, removing her gaze from him like she couldn't stand him.

He took a few steps over to the counter. Rather than feeling insulted, he felt amused by the lady's behaviour. She had no idea that she had just put her job on the line. Funny how you work but have no idea who your boss is. Was she new at the job? It was very likely.

He looked down at himself, then returned his gaze to the lady, a grin plastered on his face. "Why? I don't look like I can afford any of these dresses?" he asked, still smiling. The lady was so unfortunate that he chose to dress simply today.

"I do not have time for this,> Can you leave or do I need to call the security."

Damien laughed out. "Suit yourself, honey, but I'll advise you not to. If the security comes, I'm pretty sure you'll be the one to be dragged out."

"What do you mean?" she asked sternly.

"Oh, never mind. Where's the manager? I came to see the manager."

"If you want to report me, I swear-" she was saying through gritted teeth

"Can you be quiet? I have better things to do with my time." Damien interrupted, getting impatient with the lady. Who on earth gave her this job? She had no tolerance for this kind of job, and it made him wonder how many customers he has lost because of this kind of behaviour.

"Mrs Lydia is the manager. I want to see her." Damien stated, the smile on his face completely wiped off.

Mentioning the manager's name made her realize that he was here to see the manager. As if sensing his irritation, she said nothing else. She left the counter and headed for an office room at the far end of the boutique.

She returned with a woman about the age of 50 or more. He assumed that she was the manager, Lydia.

"Good afternoon sir, I'm sorry to have interrupted whatever you must have been doing with your useful time, but Trés Chic does need your attention," Lydia said, smiling up at him.

"It's fine. It's part of my responsibility. Shall we?"

"Sure," Lydia said, leading the way back to her office. He followed her, not before taking a glance at the young lady. Her face was now brilliantly red, her eyes wide open as realization hit her. He smiled in satisfaction.

Once in her office, Lydia offered him a seat. He sat down. "Would you like something to drink, sir?" Lydia asked, taking a seat opposite him.

"No, I'm fine. Let's get to it," Damien said. "I haven't gone round the boutique yet, but from the

little I've seen, it does need restocking. A lot of racks are bare."

"Yes, sir, that's because I picked out all the outdated designers from their racks, hangers and mannequins. We moved them here." She said, motioning to a corner in her office where some dresses neatly hung. "It has been here for months, and I doubt they will sell here because a whole lot of new fashion is coming in fast." She stood up and walked over to the dresses.

She picked out one of the dresses. "This was a designer from the last two months. But I do not think it can." She said, placing the dress back in position. "So that is why I was thinking, we should resell them to other lower-class boutique where they can sell out."

"Why wasn't it sold out when they were reigning?"

"I have no idea, sir."

"Your management skills are certainly lacking. It is almost like you have no control over what is happening in this boutique." Damien said, keeping a straight face.

"No, sir."

"No, as in you do not monitor or no, as in you don't stay here all day. The reception of this place is not up to standard. With the kind of attendant you hire here, I do understand why a whole lot of dresses did sell out when due."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"What exactly are you sorry for?" Lydia was silent. She looked like she was struggling for words. He didn't expect her to have an answer to that.

"A particular girl welcomed me poorly, but I will go into details. I will take no offense at it. I am just concerned about your customer service quality."

"I'll get rid of the girl, sir."

"Do what you have to do," Damien said, brushing the topic off. "Well, how many of them do we have?" he asked, referring to the dresses.

"I calculated about thirty of them or more." She said, "I'll need an exact number."

"Yes, sir."

"I will rather supply them to other of my boutiques. The less expensive ones. They'll sell out faster there."

"Good idea, sir."

"I'll send someone down here to get them."

"Ok, sir. So about restocking, I was going through a magazine on the recent designers. They will be coming in from China before the end of this week. I thought we should be among the first set to get them."

"How much will that cost?"

"30 million, sir. I just needed your go-ahead order."

"If it's the best at hand, of course, go ahead. You know all I need is a good account of the costs and finances."

"Sir, everything would be accounted for properly."

"Good, any other thing?"

"Yeah, I'll need your signature on these for the transactions." She said, handing a file over to

him.

"I'll have to go through this first. I'll take it with me. Send someone down to my office to get it." He said, picking up the file and standing up. "I'll get going now."

"Yes, sir."

Lydia led him out of the office back to the counter. Just before she escorted him out the door, she glared at the salesgirl, clearly fuming with anger. Damien looked at the young lady. She looked blanched, and her head bent low in shame.

"Do have a nice day." he called out to her before stepping out.