Richard’s POV
The penthouse smelled like gin and sweat.
I leaned back against the headboard, watching the blonde ride me with a slow, rhythmic intensity. Her large t**s dangled in my face, swaying with every movement, a heavy reminder of what my money could buy. She didn't know my name, and I didn't care about hers. To the world, I was Richard Grant, the dignified eldest son of a dynasty. Back in the suburbs, my wife was probably helping our youngest with a math project. Here, I was the King of the Hill.
The phone on the nightstand vibrated, the screen lighting up with a conference call from my siblings. I swiped it on with a smirk, not bothering to slow the girl down.
"Did you see the news?" Caroline’s voice shrieked through the speaker, sharp enough to give me a headache. "Seven days
