The black Maybach pulled up in front of the tall glass building. Damien stepped out, straightening his dark suit, his expression unreadable. The air in London was sharp, and so was his mood.
Today’s meeting wasn’t about money, it was about control.
“Good morning, sir,” one of the assistants greeted, almost tripping over his words. Everyone in the room knew who he was. Damien wasn’t just another billionaire investor; he was power in a tailored suit.
He gave a curt nod. “Morning.”
The secretary quickly led him through the hallways. His shoes made a steady sound against the marble floor, the kind that made people turn when he passed.
“Right this way, Mr. Damien,” the man said, opening the door to a spacious conference room.
A dozen men in suits rose immediately. “Good morning, Mr. Damie
