The Maybach's engine purred like a satisfied predator as we rolled away from the Celestial Grand, city lights bleeding past tinted windows in streams of gold and red.
Ten PM. Two hours of watching billionaires beg, and my queens were fucking exhausted.
Madison sat to my left, Amanda was to my right. She'd kicked off her heels the moment we'd climbed into the Maybach, and her bare feet were tucked under her on the seat.
Both of them had worked their asses off tonight.
Two hours of performing at peak capacity, managing conversations with billionaires and sovereign wealth funds, explaining complex financial structures while making it sound simple, demonstrating technology that shouldn't exist, and doing it all with smiles that promised paradise and bank accounts in equal measure.
They'd helped built an empire tonight.
And now they were crashing.
