The Delinquent King

Sofia's POV

My friends in America think I have the best brother in the world because he paid for a private charter plane to bring adult cream pies to one of my parties.

But he's Machiavelli and Lucifer's bastard love child. So for the good of mankind, I'm going to murder him. Then ask Dad for understanding and forgiveness. It's too much to wait for the silver Mercedes to come to a complete stop.

Or for my chauffeur/bodyguard to open the door. Seething, I jump out and march into the glossy skyscraper that houses the Golden Gate Group's headquarters in downtown Paris.

I walk through the vast lobby, the clacking of my Chanel heels like a metronome on the marble floor. My entourage follows. They're my mom's spies, but I tolerate them and pretend I don't know what they're really up to because they can be useful.

Look at Exhibit One Ms. Katherine serves as my assistant when she isn't reporting my every move to my mom. She's rushing forward to hit the button for the executive elevator car to make sure that the doors are open and ready for me to step right in.

I'm not an executive at my family's giant multinational conglomerate, but I get to use the special glossy black elevator anyway because my doting dad, who's chairman of the Golden Gate Group, gave me access. It's too bad Charles  hasn't received the memo.

But I'm going to make very sure he gets it in the next few minutes. The elevator doors shut, and Ms. Katherine hits the button for the thirty-ninth floor, where my brother's office is located.

My temper is boiling, but I try not to scowl. What Charles did was infuriating, but it's not worth getting wrinkles for. No. Instead of having fury create lines on my face, I'm going to unload on my older brother.

He deserves nothing less. How dare he. The second the elevator stops and the door opens, I walk out. Ms. Katherine follows, along with two bodyguards. Ms. Lucia, the most senior of Charles four executive assistants, starts to rise from her desk.

She's also the most conservatively dressed, in a black skirt suit with pantyhose and heels. She even has pearls in her ears. Her face is covered in multiple shades of nude makeup, which, unfortunately, makes her appear oddly colorless.

"Ms. Ben," she says, her tone very circumspect. "Mr. Ben isn't available " I raise a hand. "Don't. I know he doesn't have an appointment." I have my own eyes and ears at the headquarters.

Although I have no managerial power at the company, I have something better ready access to my father. He indulges me and lets me have what I want, as long as it's within reason.

But "within reason" is pretty wide when it comes to my requests. Everyone at Golden Gate knows this, and they suck up to me some overtly, some subtly. And I use it to my advantage. I need, to survive cases like this.