Five Brutal Kings 1

Samuel stretched his arms lazily, reaching for his glass of wine with an exasperated sigh. He rolled his eyes as he took a sip, savoring the rich, familiar taste before setting the glass back down with a soft clink. Across from him, the blonde man droned on—his voice an unrelenting hum of words Samuel had long since tuned out.

He knew the lecture by heart.

Finish school. Get good grades. Prepare to take over Nickel Boron.

The same tired script, played on repeat. His mother had just called an hour ago from her vacation in Las Vegas, reinforcing the same message: "You need to be educated and ready, Samuel. The company needs you."

As if I care.

Dressed in a crisp, designer shirt and pajama pants, Samuel tapped his foot restlessly, his left leg bouncing over his right. The cushion beneath him was plush, yet he shifted uncomfortably, growing impatient with the ceaseless flipping of papers and the nervous edge in Mr. Corallo's voice.

His so-called tutor had been handpicked by his father—paid a ridiculous sum to "shape" him into the heir he was expected to be. Nickel Boron was among the country's most powerful enterprises, and Samuel was meant to step into its leadership like a prince claiming his throne.

But he didn't want the throne.

He didn't want a life behind a desk, attending board meetings, signing contracts, or giving uninspired speeches about a company he had no passion for. He had other ambitions, though none his father would ever approve of.

Another sigh. Another sip of wine.

Mr. Corallo, still flipping through his documents, mispronounced a word. Samuel's brow arched.

"You mean basic training," he corrected coolly, voice sharp with subtle condescension.

The older man hesitated, quickly adjusting his glasses before nodding. "Ah, yes. Basic training." He cleared his throat. "As I was saying, Nickel Boron is worth over a trillion dollars, making it the leading oil company in the market. Your role as the heir is—"

"Yeah, yeah. Vital." Samuel cut him off, leaning back against the chair. "More important than anything, right?" His lips curled into a slow smirk. "You know what's actually more important? You shutting your mouth."

Silence.

Mr. Corallo stiffened, clearly taken aback.

Samuel swirled the remaining wine in his glass. "Be honest. How much is the old man paying you for this?" He tilted his head, expression unreadable. "I'll triple it if you never step foot in this house again."

The tutor blinked. "Sir, I—"

"When was the last time you had a trim?" Samuel interrupted, eyes scanning the man's untidy blonde hair.

Mr. Corallo flushed. "Excuse me?"

"Your collar's dirty. Shoes aren't polished. And you stumble over your words." Samuel smirked. "Do you have a daughter? Tall, slender, with… assets? Someone who speaks fluently? I could date her for, say, two days? She wouldn't regret it."

Mr. Corallo's face turned red with a mix of embarrassment and anger. "I have two daughters, both older than you."

Samuel leaned forward. "I like them older."

The tutor's jaw tightened. "Master Samuel, your father would be—"

"Disappointed?" Samuel finished for him, tossing his empty glass aside without care. "I'd say he's used to it."

Mr. Corallo inhaled sharply, regaining composure. "Sir, we still have thirty minutes left in our session."

Samuel rubbed his forehead, irritation spiking. Thirty more minutes of this nonsense? Tomorrow, he had far better plans—helicopter rides, lavish parties, anything but this.

"I'm tired." His tone was final.

"Sir, this is important—"

"The company. I know," Samuel mocked. "Here's the thing—I don't care."

He stood abruptly, brushing imaginary lint off his shirt.

"You're fired."

Mr. Corallo's mouth opened, but no words came.

Only your father can fire me," he finally managed. "I signed a contract."

Samuel gave a lazy shrug. "You're dismissed."

And with that, he turned and walked toward the staircase, not bothering to look back.

"Your father won't be pleased," Mr. Corallo called after him.

Samuel raised a hand in a lazy wave. "Shut up and leave. That's an order."

***********

Vivian stared at her phone screen, her thumb hovering over the screen before she sighed and tossed it onto the bed.

She couldn't stop thinking about them.

The golden boys. The ones everyone at school whispered about. The ones she had seen at the bar where she worked.

They had been seated together, effortlessly handsome, their laughter deep and smooth like a melody she wanted to listen to on repeat. Vivian had wanted nothing more than to be the one serving them, but the red-haired waitress had beat her to it. That girl always found a way to be in the right place at the right time, and Vivian suspected it had something to do with her flirty relationship with the bar manager.

Not that it mattered.

Harrison, one of the five, hadn't even glanced her way.

"Ugh. He's just too much," she muttered under her breath, biting her lip.

"Who?"

Vivian jumped slightly, realizing Anna was sitting cross-legged beside her.

Her best friend smirked, snatching the phone from her hands. "Harrison?" She shook her head, amused. "You stare at their pictures all the time."

Vivian snatched her phone back. "So what?"

Anna arched a brow. "Why don't you just tell him how you feel when you see him at school?"

Vivian scoffed. "Oh, sure. I'll just waltz up to one of the richest guys on campus and say, 'Hey, Harrison, I think you're hot.' That would go well."

Anna rolled her eyes. "You're being dramatic."

Vivian sighed, twirling a strand of her hair. "They're everything a girl wants."

Anna's thoughts drifted back to what had happened yesterday, just as she was stepping out of the university gates. The sun had been high, casting a golden glow over the pavement when a sleek black luxury car rolled past. Before she could process what was happening, a plastic bottle flew out of the tinted window, hitting her shoulder before bouncing onto the ground.

Shocked, Anna turned sharply, her breath catching as her eyes met a cold, detached gaze through the half-rolled window. Daniel. His expression was unreadable, almost bored, as if throwing the bottle at her was the most insignificant thing he'd done all day. Then, without a word, the car picked up speed and disappeared down the street.

A mix of emotions bubbled inside her—embarrassment, anger, and confusion. The few students who had seen it happen either looked away or snickered under their breath, unwilling to get involved. She clenched her fists, biting the inside of her cheek to stop herself from reacting.

Who did he think he was? Just because he was one of the five golden boys didn't mean he could treat people like they were invisible.

Shaking her head, she had forced herself to keep walking, pushing the moment aside. But now, sitting cross-legged on her bed, she realized the frustration still lingered.

"I think they're just rude." Anna's voice was skeptical.

Vivian shrugged. "They're rich. Who cares?"

Anna didn't argue, instead shifting the conversation. "Mum made apple pie before she left."

Vivian perked up instantly. "Hell yes!"

Anna laughed, standing up. "Come on. Let's go eat before you start daydreaming about those boys again."

Vivian grinned. "No promises."