Damon Dash Net Worth 2003 Novels & Stories

The photo showed a man with dark hair silvering at the temples, sharp features, eyes that looked like they calculated every variable in a room. DAMIAN CROSS (39) — The charming one, at least in photographs. Tech entrepreneur, founder of CrossTech Industries. Net worth $5.7 billion. Several high-profile affairs before he apparently disappeared from public dating. The dossier described him as "seductive," "possessive," and "theatrical." The photo showed a man with blonde hair, blue eyes that crinkled at the corners when smiling, the kind of face that could convince you to do things you'd regret.

"What?! What did you just say?" I knew he was getting older and his werewolf hearing wasn't what it used to be, so I kindly repeated myself. "Damien didn't give me hundreds of millions. I only got sixty million, and I dumped it all into the stock market today."

—-------------------- Duffel slung over his shoulder, grocery bag in the other hand, David whistled his way down the path toward the marina that housed 'Blue Blood' It had taken him three months of negotiating the price to something he could afford—but the extra hassle had been worth it. This latest acquisition would be the perfect honeymoon rental once he knocked some shape into it. He could also book it for a college-buddies’ reunion or moms’ get-away. It would take time, and a boatload of cash he no longer had, but eventually she’d shine. David paused on the dock, taking a moment to appreciate the worn fiberglass hull, faded padded seats and fraying lashings.

Her voice still had that warm, sultry flavor to it, only now it didn't get quite the same reaction from him. He gave one short, sharp nod of his head. "Laura." "This is Damien Frost. Damien, meet Trey DeMarcus." Trey knew the name. He was one of the young dot.com geniuses who had amassed quite a fortune before he was thirty. So. Youth and money. A double whammy. Damien looked from one to the other, recognition lighting his eyes, then curved his lips in a professional smile. "Nice to meet you, DeMarcus." "Same here."

Lacey stood in front of Victor and smiled, “Hello, Mister Cross, so, the agreement that you approached your wife with was three million dollars one mansion, the beach house and two cars. Is that correct?” Victor nodded, “Yes, it was.” Lacey asked, “Mister Cross, for the record, how much are you currently worth?” Victor took a deep breath and answered, “Approximately five-hundred billion.”

“Oh my God, isn’t that one of the largest pharmaceutical companies in the world?” Damon’s grin widened, and he shrugged nonchalantly, as if inheriting a billion-dollar empire was just another Tuesday for him. “Yeah, that’s the one,” he said with a mock nonchalance that didn’t fool me for a second. I blinked, my mind racing to catch up with the revelation. Damon—Damon—was loaded. Not just well-off, but beyond loaded. A villain with resources like his could have lived comfortably, maybe even luxuriously, somewhere far from danger. But instead, he chose to use it all to expose the G.H.C., risking everything. He was the fucking real life Batman.

Damian said softly: "I made 2.3 Billion. But the biggest profit was these 4 days. With you." Ava: "Mine too." They drank tea. In silence. Business trip over. But the "us" trip had just begun.