Young Master Bennett

POV Oliver

"I like it!" Oliver said, looking at Margaret.

"Whoever loves pleasure will become poor; whoever loves wine and oil will never be rich," she replied, wrinkling her nose at the sight of the apartment. "Is this really necessary? You're hardly ever at Mill Grove once filming starts anyway."

"The paparazzi and fans don't care about that," he replied. "Mill Grove isn't equipped for situations like this—not yet!"

Margaret studied him and slowly exhaled.

"Besides, this is the perfect solution. The apartment complex practically works like a hotel: security, a kitchen, cleaners, and even a proper car!"

"We have a proper car!" she interrupted him.

Oliver ignored her comment and continued. "There's enough room for Peter and me and, if you want, even for you!" He looked at her hopefully.

"Hey, I'm not planning on moving in here!" Peter interjected from the side. "I'm your bodyguard, not your nanny!"

"You're moving in!" Margaret replied, giving him a sharp look.

"Of course, Sister!" he replied quietly and fled into the adjoining room.

Oliver stared after him with his mouth open. To this day, he couldn't understand why that man was so afraid of her. Peter had spent six years in prison, was over two metres tall, and was built like a refrigerator.

"You know I can't come with you," Margaret finally said. "My place is at Mill Grove. I have a responsibility to the children and to the Lord."

Oliver nodded slowly. He had known what her answer would be anyway. That didn't mean he hadn't hoped she might change her mind. After all, moving out would inevitably mean that Margaret would be less involved in his everyday life.

"That doesn't mean I'm disappearing from your life. I'm still your guardian, and that means I'm still responsible for you!" Margaret interrupted his thoughts.

The old bat seemed to be able to read him like a book by now.

Before he could respond, the living room door opened and the estate agent returned with Richard Ashford, Oliver's agent.

"Well?" the estate agent asked with a professional smile. "What do you think?"

"Can he even afford this, Richard?" Margaret asked.

"Not a problem. I've already spoken with Warner, and since Oliver only wants to rent something for now, the immediate expenses are manageable." Richard glanced briefly at his papers. "The rent for this apartment is only £25,000 a month, including full service."

Margaret stared at him. "Only £25,000 a month?"

Richard cleared his throat. "Relative to Oliver's income."

Margaret slowly shook her head. "You've all lost touch with the value of money." Then she turned her gaze towards Richard. "For the love of money is a root of all kinds of evil, Richard. First Timothy 6:10."

Richard opened his mouth, but Margaret raised a warning finger.

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"That boy already has more money than any eleven-year-old should ever have. Your job is to make sure it doesn't go to his head—not to teach him that £25,000 a month is only anything."

"I'll wait by the car," she finally muttered and made her way towards the door.

Richard waited until the door had closed behind her. Then he turned to Oliver. "She does know that you're expected to make nearly £8 million from the first film in the first year alone, right?"

Oliver shrugged.

"Your salary, your profit participation, and the additional income combined," Richard continued. "And for Chamber of Secrets, we've now agreed on a £1 million base salary. Your two-percent participation stays in place as well. And let's not even get started on your stock portfolio, which also seems to be doing exceptionally well."

Peter's gaze shot towards Richard and then Oliver. Oliver met his eyes and immediately knew what he was thinking.

"Let's not talk about numbers," he said quickly and turned back to Richard. Then he paused briefly and looked at Peter. "Say, Pete. If we're already throwing money out the window—don't you finally want a new car?"

Peter's suspicious expression vanished instantly. "What kind of car?"

Oliver grinned.

Too easy.

***

"Pete, do you want to go change first?" Oliver asked, looking him up and down disapprovingly.

"What's wrong with my outfit now? We're buying a car, not going to a premiere!" he replied irritably.

"I've read enough Webnovels to know how this is going to end," Oliver grumbled quietly to himself.

Peter merely looked at him in confusion. "Webnovels?"

"Forget it," Oliver muttered. "All I'm saying is, if some arrogant salesman insults my servant, then as the Young Master, I'm practically obligated to faceslap him."

Peter stopped. "Your servant?"

Oliver quickened his pace. "You're focusing on the wrong part again."

A little while later, they entered the showroom. Peter had apparently given up protesting his supposed new status as a servant and almost immediately headed straight for a black Bentley Arnage Red Label.

Oliver had to admit that he had good taste.

The car was large enough for Oliver to sit comfortably in the back. At the same time, it had a 6.75-litre V8 producing 400 horsepower. Peter had obviously already made up his mind.

Oliver grinned and left him to continue inspecting the Bentley while he wandered through the showroom himself.

Then his gaze settled on another car.

A black Mercedes stood slightly apart from the others. Considerably more elegant than the Bentley, less aggressive, with just enough chrome to make it look almost ceremonial despite the dark paintwork.

Oliver stepped closer and read the small sign beside it.

Mercedes-Benz S600.

His gaze slowly travelled over the black car. Somehow, it would look damn good with Margaret's nun habit.

A grin spread across his face.

We're taking that one too.

Oliver walked back to Peter, who was still inspecting the Bentley. Just as he reached him, one of the salesmen approached them.

"Can I help you?" he asked, briefly looking the two of them over.

Peter gestured towards the Bentley. "We'd like to take it for a test drive."

The salesman looked at Peter first, then Oliver, and finally back at the Bentley.

"The Arnage Red Label?"

"That's the one."

The salesman's professional smile faltered for a moment. "Of course, sir. I should point out, however, that we don't normally offer casual test drives in our new vehicles."

Peter frowned. "Casual?"

"If there's serious interest in purchasing the vehicle, something can certainly be arranged," the salesman explained politely.

He didn't get any further. Oliver burst out laughing.

"I told you!" he managed, looking at Peter. "See? If you'd changed your clothes, nobody would be questioning whether we're serious about buying it!"

He had read so many stories about how he was supposed to react in a situation like this. But now that it was actually happening, all he could do was laugh. It was simply too cliché.

Peter closed his eyes and slowly shook his head.

Oliver turned back to the salesman. "Sorry, but you really shouldn't judge someone by their appearance." He gestured towards the Bentley. "We want to buy the car. If you're willing to help us, we'd still like to drive it first."

The salesman blinked in surprise. "No, of course. I didn't mean to give the impression that I didn't want to assist you."

He cleared his throat and glanced at Peter. "You're right, sir. That was presumptuous of me. My apologies."

"It's fine." Oliver nodded and pointed towards the Mercedes. "We want that one too."

"Too?" Peter asked, looking at him suspiciously.

Oliver ignored him and turned back to the salesman. "One more question. Could you arrange a mobile phone to go with it?"

The salesman blinked. "A mobile phone?"

"Yes, preferably set it up for her as well." Oliver grinned. "And when you deliver it, take your time explaining how it works."

Peter was silent for a moment. "She's going to kill you."

"She'll have to drive over to us first."