Damian Wood

Damian huffed, slamming his fist down on the table in front of him. "Are you shitting me right now? How useless are you guys?" He let out a low groan, rubbing his temple with two fingers. "Tell me you’re fucking joking."

"I’m, uh… afraid not, sir. We've lost quite a bit of money recently losing cases. I apologize," one of his employees responded as slowly and carefully as someone trying to avoid setting off an explosive. Damian’s temper was truly nothing light to be handling; pair that with his spoiled personality, and he was insufferable. Not that any of his workers were dumb enough to say that aloud and risk facing his wrath.

"Fucking hell… I'm going to the casino!" Damian groaned, grabbing his coat and turning to the elevator. Maybe gambling wasn't the best way to handle things when his business was close to going bankrupt—but give him some slack, he's new! His secretary could handle things without him… probably.

He walked into the elevator and pressed the star-shaped button at the bottom that stood for 'lobby.' Once the doors opened, he stomped out of the building with clenched fists at his sides, similarly to a child throwing a temper tantrum.

The casino that Damian visited often was conveniently in walking distance. Perhaps it was a miracle, because god knows what would happen to innocent civilians if he were to drive in this state.

As he walked towards his destination, he suddenly felt someone bump into him. Usually, Damien would probably brush this off or simply roll his eyes and continue walking.

Although, having already been in a horrible mood, things were different. Plus, it wasn't the type of accidental bump where their shoulders grazed; this idiot’s face had slammed directly into his chest!

So, his pent-up anger caused his rage to boil over, and, of course, he lashed out at some random stranger. He shot a sharp glare at the man, who began stumbling back after bumping into him. "Watch where you're going, you imbecile!"

The man looked up with a confused expression, his eyebrows furrowing as he gripped onto the leash of a golden retriever. However, his eyes didn’t quite meet Damian’s gaze, but it was almost like he was looking past him.

Blinded by his own petulance, however, he didn’t pay it any mind as he continued to berate the poor guy. Damian snapped his fingers in front of him, growling, "Hey, look at me! Are you fucking blind or something!?"

Then, in what could only be described as the sweetest, most tender voice Damien had ever heard in his entire life, the man spoke, "Yes, I am. I apologize, sir."

As soon as the man’s words reached Damien’s ears, his mouth went dry. He had just yelled at a blind man. Sure, Damien was sort of an asshole, but he still had some sort of a set of morals–albeit buried beneath the layers of his pride, privilege, and entitlement. The softness in the man’s voice pierced through Damien’s heart like an arrow, stirring something deep within him.

It only got worse when the man looked up at him, and Damien could get a clear view of his equally enticing face. As he stared at the man in awe, he couldn’t help but think he looked like an angel sent from above.