Five Brutal Kings 7

Daniel sat in silence, legs crossed, fingers interlaced, his tongue running slowly along the inside of his cheek. He leaned back against the plush sofa, exuding effortless dominance, his unwavering gaze locked onto the girl seated across from him. The cherry-colored floral dress she wore clung delicately to her figure, its hem teasing the smooth expanse of her thighs. A matching necklace rested against her collarbone, rising and falling with every unsteady breath.

She was nervous—he could tell. Her wide eyes flickered, searching his expression for some sign of warmth. There was none.

His parents had orchestrated this meeting with relentless persistence, insisting that she was the ideal woman for him—the daughter of their closest friends, the perfect match. A union between them would strengthen family ties, they said. It would be beneficial, they reasoned.

Daniel didn't care.

He had expected her when he descended the grand staircase earlier, already spotting her from the top step, her gaze flitting over the expensive artwork that lined the walls. She had arrived before him, had been waiting, just like a girl who thought she had a claim on him should.

His father's call had come earlier in the day, instructing him to be courteous, to make her feel welcome. Daniel had barely responded before ending the call. He despised being controlled, especially in matters of the heart—or, in this case, whatever farce his family was trying to force upon him.

The girl cleared her throat, shifting slightly under the weight of his silence. Then, in a voice that was softer than he expected, she attempted, "I have to compliment your cologne." A nervous smile accompanied the words, but hesitation laced her tone, as though she were unsure if speaking was even allowed.

Daniel didn't reply.

Instead, his sharp gaze flickered over her, assessing, indifferent.

She had long, mahogany hair that cascaded over her shoulders in waves, framing a face that was—at best—pleasant. Her eyes held admiration, but more than that, longing. He had seen that look a thousand times before, in a thousand different women. It bored him.

Sandra forced herself to breathe steadily, but the way he sat there, exuding an aura of untouchable elegance, made it difficult. Everything about him commanded attention—the crisp striped jacket tailored perfectly to his form, the effortless way he carried himself, the quiet but palpable power in his stillness.

Was it possible to fall in love with someone in a single moment?

Because she felt it—the weight of her attraction, the overwhelming need to be closer to him.

Sandra had fantasized about this.

She had pictured herself on his arm, imagined the envy of other women as she walked beside him, dressed in designer gowns, attending high-society events where their names would be whispered in admiration. A lifetime with Daniel Gundi wasn't just a dream—it was a status symbol, a golden ticket into a world of privilege.

"I'm Sandra," she finally said, her voice trembling slightly as she introduced herself. She was sure he already knew, but saying it aloud made her feel more real to him, more tangible.

Daniel exhaled through his nose, slow and unimpressed. Then, his fingers moved—just slightly—to press against his forehead in a gesture of mild irritation.

"I didn't ask you to speak."

The words were sharp, like a blade slicing through her hope.

Sandra froze.

The air seemed to shift between them.

Her lips parted slightly, her breath caught somewhere between her throat and chest. She wasn't naive—she had heard the rumors about him. That he was cold, detached. That he wasn't the kind of person who fell for anyone easily. But she hadn't expected this.

Not this level of cruelty.

His voice was composed but laced with undeniable authority. "In my house," he continued, his gaze darkening, "you will do as I say."

Sandra clenched her hands in her lap, trying to steady the tremble in her fingers.

The worst part?

She still wanted him.

She had spent too many nights staring at pictures of him, memorizing every sharp angle of his face, every smirk caught on camera. She had watched him from across the dining table at their families' dinner, her heart pounding when, for the briefest moment, his eyes had met hers. She had convinced herself it meant something.

But it hadn't.

It never had.

Sandra shifted under his scrutiny, heat creeping up her neck as she realized his gaze had dipped to her lap. Her dress—too short? Too revealing? She had worn it for him, had chosen the color because it flattered her skin tone, hoping he might find her beautiful.

And yet—

"You know why you've never had a boyfriend?"

The question came suddenly, throwing her off balance.

She barely had time to react before he was moving, rising from his seat, glass in hand. He crossed the room leisurely, stopping by the wine bar. She watched as he poured himself a glass of champagne, the movement slow, deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world.

Sandra swallowed. "No," she answered honestly.

Daniel took a sip, then finally turned to look at her. His beige eyes were unreadable. "Because you're very… unattractive."

Sandra's breath stilled.

It felt like the room tilted for a second.

Her reflection in the mirror had always been a source of confidence. She knew she was beautiful—had been told so since she was a child. Her skin was smooth, her features delicate, her lips full without enhancements. So why—?

"I don't even find you appealing enough to sleep with, let alone be in a relationship with," Daniel added, setting the glass down.

Sandra felt something inside her splinter.

The rejection wasn't just cold—it was brutal. It stripped away every ounce of pride she had carried into this room.

Daniel sighed, glancing toward the door. "In response to your question," he mused, "I try not to add more lovers to the ones I already have." His lips twitched slightly, but it wasn't a smile. "Just to be safe."

Then, without another glance, he turned on his heel.

He was almost out the door when he paused, as though remembering something. Over his shoulder, he said casually, "Relax. Leave whenever you feel like it."

Then he was gone.

Sandra sat frozen, her heart pounding in her chest, the sting of his words sinking into her bones.

This wasn't how she had imagined today going.

Her throat tightened.

She had convinced herself that he had dressed up for her—that there had been some effort made on his part. But now she saw the truth. He had somewhere else to be. Someone else to see.

And she was nothing to him.

Just another girl foolish enough to think she could mean something to Daniel Gundi.

*********

Daniel drove into the towering corporate complex, his hands gripping the wheel with practiced ease. The building loomed ahead, its glass facade gleaming under the afternoon sun. It was a fortress of power, home to elite executives, board members, and employees who dedicated their lives to the Honduran Group of Companies.

The parking lot was a sea of luxury vehicles, a silent testament to the wealth that pulsed through the veins of this empire. He pulled into his reserved spot, killing the engine with a flick of his wrist. For a moment, he sat there, fingers drumming idly against the leather steering wheel, his mind elsewhere.

He wasn't supposed to be here today.

But David had called.

Daniel had been to this office before, once with the rest of the guys. Back then, it had been nothing more than a detour before a night out—just another distraction before indulging in the pleasures of their world.

David, though, had a different reality pressing down on him. His parents had been relentless, forcing him to learn the ins and outs of the business, handing him stacks of reports, expecting him to care. And while David played along—agreeing to show up twice a month in exchange for an increased allowance—Daniel knew his friend had no real interest in taking over anything.

None of them did.

Daniel checked his phone, scrolling through the group chat.

Samuel was trapped at home, sitting through yet another business lecture under the watchful eye of Mr. Corallo. His father had all but threatened to cut off his credit cards if he skipped again.

Harrison was out of town, attending a family memorial, an obligation he hadn't been able to dodge.

Clinton, on the other hand, hadn't responded to any calls or messages. The only thing they had from him was a voice note, sent that morning.

"Don't worry about me. I'm fine. I just need some time alone."

Daniel frowned slightly but pushed the thought aside.

His own phone had been ringing as he left the mansion—his parents calling, undoubtedly wanting to discuss the girl he had so effortlessly dismissed. He hadn't answered. He wouldn't.

Not when he had no interest in explaining himself.

Instead, he pushed open the car door, stepping out into the warm afternoon air. He adjusted the cuffs of his tailored jacket before striding toward the entrance.

As expected, heads turned.

Daniel was used to the stares. They followed him everywhere he went.

Inside the building, the air was crisp, filled with the scent of polished wood and money. Executives moved through the lobby, their sharp suits and expensive heels clicking against the marble floors. Conversations hummed around him—deals being made, empires being built, fortunes being discussed in hushed tones.

Daniel barely paid attention.

He entered the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor.

A woman slipped in just before the doors closed, her arms full of documents. She glanced up at him, lips painted a deep matte red, eyes flickering with recognition.

She smiled.

Daniel did not.

The doors opened to reveal David standing outside, hands tucked into his pockets. The sharpness of his suit, the casual smirk playing on his lips—he looked every bit the businessman his parents wanted him to be.

They exchanged a brief handshake before falling into step beside each other.

"Your haircut looks good," Daniel remarked.

"As always." David smirked, leading him toward his office.

Inside, the space was impeccable. Expensive. Controlled.

A large desk sat near the window, offering a view of the city below. Four long upholstered chairs surrounded a polished table, and a well-stocked drinks cabinet stood against the far wall. A portrait of David himself hung near the entrance—a reminder of the legacy he was expected to uphold.

Daniel sank into one of the couches without being invited.

David walked to the drinks cabinet, retrieving a bottle of freshly delivered wine. He poured them each a glass before settling into his chair.

Daniel took a sip, letting the rich taste linger on his tongue before setting his glass down.

"My parents are trying to set me up," he muttered, cutting straight to the point. "Like she's the best option for me."

David raised a brow. "The girl you texted us about?"

Daniel scoffed. "The same."

"No way." David leaned forward slightly, his smirk widening. "Don't tell me you actually said it to her face."

"I did."

David chuckled, shaking his head. "Damn. You could've just told her you weren't interested instead of tearing her apart."

"I wasn't lying."

David smirked, swirling the wine in his glass. "I'm surprised your parents are pushing for marriage this early. But hey, I wouldn't mind being your best man."

Daniel shot him a look. "If I ever get married, it sure as hell won't be to her."

David raised his glass in mock agreement. "So, anyone else caught your eye yet?"

"Nah." Daniel leaned back, exhaling. "At this rate, I'll probably stay single till I'm eighty."

They both laughed, clinking glasses before draining them.

The moment was cut short by the shrill ring of David's office phone.

He sighed, answering with mild irritation. His secretary's voice came through, informing him that the person his father had mentioned was on the way up.

David rolled his eyes. "Great."

A knock followed moments later.

"Come in," he called, already annoyed.

The door swung open, revealing a woman in her mid-twenties.

She stepped inside with poise, her lemon-colored dress cinched at the waist, blonde hair framing a delicate face. She carried herself with confidence, her gaze flicking briefly to Daniel before settling on David.

"Good afternoon, gentlemen," she said smoothly. "I'm Miranda Edwards. I've been instructed to deliver these documents, Mr. Honduran. They require your signature."

Her voice was polished, her presence professional.

David barely looked at her. He took the documents, flipping through the pages with a bored expression. The print was small, the details tedious.

Then, his patience snapped.

"Why is this arriving so late?" he demanded.

Miranda hesitated before answering. "My dog fell sick this morning. I had to take him to the vet, which caused me to miss my flight. I had to drive here instead. I sincerely apologize for the delay."

David's expression darkened. "And how exactly is that supposed to fix the inconvenience you've caused?"

Miranda lowered her gaze. "I take full responsibility, sir."

Daniel, who had been silent until now, suddenly tilted his head.

"What's your name again?"

Miranda blinked at him. "Miranda Edwards, sir."

Daniel cupped a hand to his ear. "Sorry, what?"

Miranda frowned slightly but repeated herself. "Miranda Edwards."

Daniel nodded. "And your dog?"

David shot him a look, but Miranda answered. "His name is Bruno."

"Bruno, huh?" Daniel mused. "He must be special to you."

"He is."

David, however, had lost patience. His tone was laced with warning as he snapped, "Are you daft? Do you want to lose your job?"

Miranda stiffened. "Not at all, sir."

David leaned forward. "Then get out. Three seconds."

Miranda didn't wait. She turned, her heels clicking against the marble floor, and left.

The silence that followed was thick.

Daniel exhaled slowly, watching the door she had disappeared through.

"She's fine," he murmured.

David scoffed. "Who? The clumsy girl?"

"Yeah."

David rolled his eyes. "Please don't tell me she's the one you've chosen to make your wife."

Daniel smirked. "No." He leaned back, stretching lazily. "But I imagine she'd be warm in my bed."

David raised a brow. "So, a one-night stand?"

Daniel chuckled, neither confirming nor denying.

David drained the last of his wine before setting his glass down. "Alright, let's go clubbing. Enough of this business talk."

Daniel smirked, adjusting his cuffs. "I thought you'd never ask."

As they stood, he glanced at the door one last time.

"She works at one of the company's branches," David said, noticing his lingering gaze.

Daniel hummed in response, a glint of something unreadable in his eyes.

Then, with a final glance in the mirror, he followed David out the door.