Chapter 6: Millions, Billions, Trillions

Damian's POV

Bentley entered, and we drove to the shopping mall. I put on my black sunglasses and got out, and then he did the same. I led the way to the brand shop; I couldn't ignore the way Bentley turned his head in wonderment at the interior design like he just migrated from Rock Island.

We entered the first shop, and I loved its dark aesthetic. I darted at him. "This is where I buy my suits; look around if you'll see anything you like." Bentley hurried to pick up a gray T-shirt he had been staring at. He turned the price tag, and Bentley's smile transformed into a frown.

"This much for a shirt!" he half-yelled, then quickly dropped it back in line. "I don't want this one." With wide eyes, he glanced at multiple price tags. "I don't like this shop; let's go somewhere else," he scoffed and walked away. I grabbed his hand. "Are you running away because of the amount?" "N-No, I don't like them; let's go," he replied, diverting from my gaze.

I sighed and picked up the gray t-shirt he dropped. "We're taking this," I told the cashier. "W-What?" Bentley gasped. "I said I don't like it." "I didn't say I was buying it for you," I interrupted. He opened his mouth to say something but paused.

They packaged it in a bag and gave it to me. We went to the second shop, where different kinds of shoes were displayed. I glanced at Bentley, goggling at the sneakers section. "You like sneakers?" I asked.

"A little," he mumbled as if telling me not to bother. "Well, let's have a look." I walked to the section, and he followed behind. I sat on the couch. "Pick the ones you like," I said. Bentley walked to them, starry-eyed.

"Hey," I called, and he looked back. "Do me a favor; don't look at the price tags," I said with indifference. Bentley hesitated like he was thinking of what to reply. "Oh... okay." An employee in blue jeans, a white shirt, and a red baseball cap rushed to me. It wasn't a surprise she recognized her regular customer.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Giovanni. Welcome!" the young woman bowed. "How may I help you today?" she smiled, showing her little white teeth that were the size of a teenager's. "I'm here for someone else," I said, gesturing to Bentley with my head.

"Please assist him." "Sure! "Don't worry, sir, he's in good hands," she grinned, running to Bentley. I chuckled, resting my head on top of the couch. "Youngsters," I muttered. "Sir... sir, we're done," a feminine voice said. I peeked at my watch; thirty minutes had passed already. I turned to Bentley. "How many shoes did you take?"

"Six-"

"Six? What do you mean by six?" My eyebrows wrinkled. He spent thirty minutes selecting six shoes. I expected ten to fifteen. He bowed his head, guilt written on his face.

"I can drop some," his gentle voice trembled. "Make it ten," I said with a straight face. "T-Ten?" Bentley's eyes widened. "Did I stutter?" I darted, raising a brow. "N-No, you did not." Bentley gulped, then turned to select more. The cashier pushed the keyboard for some seconds. "$10,000."

Bentley's eyes opened. As I stretched out my black card, he stared. We walked out with white bags crested with the brand's logo. "I noticed you picked more bright colors; do you like them?" I broke the silence between us. "Yeah, I do," Bentley answered. "Hmm... I know the store for you." I strolled into a big shop. They sold all bright colors of clothing. "We won't be doing this often; pick everything you need," I said with a firm voice.

I sat on the cushioned couch for hours until he finished. As we walked to the cashier, a thought crossed my mind. "Are you into accessories? Watches, chains, anything?"

"I picked some bags and caps," he replied with a small smile. "Thanks."

"It's not a big deal," I said, drawing a card from my breast pocket. I pulled the golden card down, then picked the black.

***

By the time we got home, it was evening already. I went to my room to wash up before heading to the ground floor, coaxed by the sweet aroma of food. I dropped on the couch and turned on the television, hoping the food was ready. Bentley sighted me from the kitchen.

"Oh, you're here... I'm making something for dinner; give me a few minutes." He called me to the kitchen after setting the table; we had grilled chicken salad for dinner. I crunched on the fresh mixed greens and tender pieces of marinated chicken. Every bite was a harmony of beautifully balanced flavors.

"Have you worked in a restaurant before?" I asked. "No," he shook his head. "Where did you learn how to cook so well?" I inquired about why his cooking is always mouthwatering. "It's a hobby; I also went to a cooking school when I was much younger," he replied. "Oh, I see." I took a short pause, then continued. "Are you looking for a cooking job?"

Bentley's eyes widened for a split second before he chortled. "That's not a real job; I need to work in an office... I want a job that can take care of my necessities," his voice did a poor job of concealing pain and deception.

"You don't sound very convincing." I glanced at him. "Think of your unfortunate circumstances as a chance to start over. Instead of doing something you were forced to do in the past, why not seize this opportunity to follow your dreams or do something you love?" I shrugged. He froze, pondering about what I said. "I'll give you time to think about it." "Want to go for a house tour?" I got up and turned to him.

Bentley blinked, signing out of his thoughts. "Y-Yes!" He was already familiar with the ground floor, which was just the living room and kitchen. We went to the first floor, which contained multiple rooms; most visitors sleep in any first-floor rooms if they want to stay overnight, while the last floor was where my room and important properties were located.

For an unknown reason, I wanted Bentley's room to be on the last floor. Maybe it was because he looked innocent, or maybe I was just bored. Plain stupid should be the right word.

"Hey, Bentley," I called. He raised his head to look at me. "Would you like this room?" I said with a poker face, pointing to the one opposite mine.