One: A Bad Day To A Good Day

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I hated coming to work with my dad, but I could usually handle it. This time, however, was different. Why? He didn't let me bring my phone. Sounds pathetic, but he had his reasons. So there I sat, spinning around slowly on a spinning chair in my dad's office, boredom melting my brain. I stopped and looked over at him as he typed away on his laptop, completely ignoring my existence.

"Dad, why did you bring me to work if you're just gonna sit there and ignore me?" I asked as he continued to type away.

"You know why. I don't trust you to stay home alone while I'm working weekends, obviously because of what happened last weekend." Dad replied, still looking at his computer.

Funny story, I threw a party last weekend while my dad was at work and he came home to drunk teenagers puking, probably having sex, and smashing stuff, so he took away my pride and joys; my phone, TV, Xbox, everything. I was sure him bringing me to work was another punishment too.

"Dad, just forget about that. I apologised, I'll never do it again, and I don't think there's any need for you to take my stuff off me, take my phone off me and then drag me here-"

"You might be eighteen now, but you still live under my roof, which means you follow my rules. I trusted you Lukas and you threw that in my face." Dad snapped, though he attempted to say it softly, he didn't like being a hard ass.

"Dad, come on-"

"Lukas, be quiet and go to the cafe or something, get yourself a drink and stop pissing me off." Dad sighed as he looked up at me.

I groaned and stood up from the spinning chair, "you're the one who brought me here." I muttered quietly, before leaving his office.

I walked down several corridors, passing many people in suits and suit dresses. Too many posh people for me. They looked at me like I was some sort of alien, and I felt like an alien, as they stared at my Nike branded trainers and jumper. I obviously didn't belong here.

I stepped inside a lift full of around ten businessmen and women and I stood out like a sore thumb. After around ten seconds of them staring at me from the corners or their eyes, the doors finally opened and I rushed to the cafe, got myself a hot chocolate and made my way back up to my dad's office.

I was almost back at my dad's office, when suddenly I bumped into a hunky, very hard chest—like a bumpy, fleshy, wall—spilling the contents of my cup all over his ironed, white shirt, which was now in fact brown. I gasped loudly and stepped back.

How cliché.

"Oh, fuck!" I cursed in front of dozens of the important-looking people walking by me.

I looked up, shock all over my face as I stared at the man in front of me. My eyebrows raised slightly as I stared at his well defined jawline, decorated with dark stubble to match his dark hair, while his beautiful blue eyes glared into mine.

"I'm so sorry, uh, sir, I didn't mean to-"

"Who the hell are you? You don't belong here." The man in front of me asked sternly.

Clearly.

"Uh...I'm-my dad works here, he brought me here today for....never mind. I-I'm really sorry." I stuttered nervously. I don't know whether I was nervous because he was probably about to head butt me, or if I was nervous because he's so damn hot. Who is this guy?

"Who's your dad? Take me to him." The man ordered. I nodded slowly, then began to lead the way. We got odd looks on the way there, most likely because they were seeing a guy with a large hot chocolate stain on his once-clean shirt and a teenager who looked like a scared, lost puppy.

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