THE MANSION WAS MAGNIFICENT IN PHOTOGRAPHS. But the pictures didn’t do justice to the real thing.
He disembarked from his dirt bike and stood on the circular driveway adorned at the center by a giant fountain that would rival the grandest ones in Vegas.
With cold detachment, he stared at the colossal piece of fine architecture. It was often referred to as the Little Versailles for it was a smaller replica of the one in France.
A showcase of extreme wealth.
A bastion of power.
Baron Levin’s stronghold.
Those business magazines had repeatedly called the old man the shrewdest player in Hollywood, amassing his billion-dollar fortune in multi-media that started from a small film outfit which grew into a giant studio and extended to TV Broadcasting and building amusement theme parks all over the world.
He smirked.
Baron had nothing on a good ole pussy. The classic weapon that had felled a hundred empires since the dawn of mankind.
His mother’s for that matter.
He walked towards the colonnaded portico some twenty meters away.
Step by step towards home run. Or touch down. Or goal. Or whatever you wanna call that shit in the game when you have wiped out all obstacles towards your ultimate destination.
No. Not victory. That was too dramatic for his mission.
Conquest.
Yes, that was more appropriate for his Machiavellian intentions.
He ascended the steps.
No semblance of security in sight but he knew he had a dozen hidden cameras aimed at him. He will know where they were, soon.
Ah, there was a sentinel guarding the top steps.
A lovely vision in frilly white.
A little angel.
What a way to welcome the Kraken who came to level this place, he thought with irony.
“Hey,” he greeted her.
Big eyes the color of warm honey stared back at him.
“H-hi.”
He paused. Something inside him shifted, like a fucking mountain just moved, sending tremors all over his body.
The fuck?!
Those big, doe eyes beholding him unblinkingly as if he was some kind of a superhero momentarily immobilized him. Fuck forbid she was thinking of him as fucking Prince Charming. He knew his effect on the female species. He will not be modest about it. He had been in and out of sweet little boxes since puberty.
But this was just a kid. She’d get over it soon. And even if she was mature enough for adult play, he would fuck the fairy dust off of her starry eyes. He wasn’t here to make someone’s picket fence dreams and all that shit come true.
“I’m Ray.”
“Ray…what?”
“Raytheon Bradford.”
Her heart-shaped lips formed an O. “Karina’s son.” It was a statement.
“So, you’ve heard of me. And who are you, buttercup?”
She stood up.
“Serena Levin.”
She gifted him with a heart-stopping smile that made him change his mind in an instant.
He wished she would see him as Prince Charming now, forever, and not the fucking Kraken ever, for he would hate to be the one to wipe out the sunshine in her eyes.
But he knew it was inevitable.
She would be collateral damage in the end.
No one was getting in the way of his plans.
Not even this little beauty staring down at him like the queen of this little kingdom, which she was.
The heiress.
