SUPREME STYLIST: RETURN OF THE HUMILIATED GENIUS

Chapter 0013: Who is Joyce Lang?

Rowan didn't need to ask for the second time. Mr. Henderson already understood the task and the kind of place he requested for.

His respect for Rowan was still there, knowing he is someone associated with Joyce Lang. He respectfully gestured in the direction of the Elevator.

"I'll be taking you to the last floor, Mr. Rowan. The penthouse. That is the best place that suits people of your status. You'll have entitlement to all our exclusive services there and you'll have a personal service staff to attend to your need. I'll personally be the one to attend to your need, Mr. Rowan if you don't find it offensive. It'll be my honor."

Rowan simply nodded, understanding the manager intention to further appease him and get on his good side.

"As you wish." Rowan simply said.

The elevator ascended to the last floor of the hotel. It stopped on the tenth floor. The door chimed and parted, revealing a medium hallway. They pressed forward to the end of the hall where the penthouse came into view.

It was a Vast space immersed with modern and sleek furnitures. The lounge has high roofing, medium size chandelier scattering crystal over the pristine marble. At the centre of the lounge, a sectional sofa rested, made of Ashes leather too clean to sit upon. Beyond a glass intersection, a swimming pool sat at the end, glowing light blue colour under the night.

Rowan took in the whole space with his jaw slowly apart. He had only seen places like this in movies. He never dreamt of walking into such a luxurious place like this in ten years to come but it was happening right before his eyes.

He turned, still taking in the stunning features of the house. Behind a sleek counter, the house bar stretched across an entire space, filled with expensive wines, names that sounded like nonsense Rowan had only seen in adverts on TV.

"I hope the place is to your liking, Mr. Rowan." Mr. Henderson asked. He was already satisfied with Rowan's expression but he still needed to ask to show his concern and professionalism.

Rowan nodded without saying a word, caught up in the stunning designs and finishing of the house.

"Allow me to take you to the terrace, Mr. Rowan." He said and led the way.

Rowan followed him. A large transparent glass slide behind them as they stepped into the terrace. It is the kind of place to enjoy a short vacation with family members, the view of the world was panoramic, mass of uneven faint light scattered in the distance city. Rowan stepped towards the edge, holding the railings. His gaze pierced into the distance. Somewhere out there, Margaret would think he's freezing to death on the street, his father would expect him to come back home, to plead to come back as usual after his pride was broken in front of his step-brother, and Annabelle would think he'll never amount to anything in life. She called him a dream chaser, said his career was trash, a harsh justification for sleeping with his step-brother.

Maybe she was right. Rowan had always imagined how living in luxury would be, and he was just about starting to live in it.

"Mr. Rowan," Mr. Henderson's voice broke through his thoughts. "Do you need me to attend to anything else?"

Rowan's stomach grumbled. He remembered he hadn't taken anything during the day except the two slices of dried bread Margaret coldly placed on his plate that morning before he left for school.

He hummed gently, processing a quick thought. "Arrange a nice dinner for me. I haven't taken anything better in a while."

Mr. Henderson nodded. "I'll start arranging for it immediately, Sir." He turned to walk out but he suddenly stopped again. He turned back to Rowan, hesitation flickering, but curiosity override it.

He cleared his throat. "Ermmm.. Mr. Rowan," he called and Rowan turned to him again, raising his brow. "I don't mean to pry in your affair, but I'm just curious....who are you to Mr. Joyce?"