Sky adjusted the strap of her microscopic pink dress, a garment that did more to advertise her curves than cover them. At twenty-three, she had perfected the art of the “bimbo barbie” aesthetic—long platinum-blonde extensions that smelled like vanilla, heavy lashes that fluttered with practiced innocence, and a pout that looked permanently honey-glazed. She looked in the mirror, blowing herself a kiss, knowing exactly what she was worth. Her favorite mantra, the one she lived by every day, was simple: Spoiled Kinky Brat loves Cash Cows. She stepped into the mahogany-lined office of Mr. Sterling, her heels clicking rhythmically against the floor. He was several decades her senior, a titan of industry who lived for her demands. As soon as she walked in, he looked up from his ledger, his breath hitching. Sky didn’t sit in the guest chair; instead, she hopped onto his desk, pushing aside several thousand dollars’ worth of paperwork with her shimmering manicured nails. “You’re late, Sky,” he murmured, though his eyes were fixed on the way the silk of her dress strained against her hips. “A girl needs time to look this expensive,” she chirped, her voice a high-pitched, melodic lilt. She leaned forward, letting her hair brush against his cheek. “And you know I’m worth the wait. After all, a Spoiled Kinky Brat loves Cash Cows, especially when they’re as generous as you.” She reached out, her fingers dancing along his silk tie, pulling him closer until he could smell the sweet, artificial scent of her lip gloss. Sky loved the power she held. She was a doll with a heartbeat, a fantasy brought to life, and she played the part of the bratty princess to perfection. She didn’t just want his money; she wanted the thrill of him knowing he was being used, and him loving every second of it. “I saw a diamond choker at Tiffany’s,” she whispered, her eyes wide and vacant in that perfectly crafted bimbo way. “It would look so pretty on my neck while I’m being naughty for you.” Sterling groaned, reaching for his checkpad, but Sky tapped his knuckles playfully. “Uh-uh. First, I want you to tell me what I am.” He looked at her, his composure melting under her gaze. “You’re a brat, Sky. A spoiled, demanding brat.” “And?” she prompted, moving her hand lower, her touch light but electric. “And this Spoiled Kinky Brat loves Cash Cows,” he groaned, leaning into her touch. Sky giggled, the sound like wind chimes. She loved the exchange—the way his wealth fueled her lifestyle and her beauty fueled his desires. She was the ultimate Barbie, and he was the bank. She leaned down, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered her next list of demands, each one more scandalous than the last. In her world, luxury and lust were the only two languages that mattered, and as long as the checks kept clearing, Sky would remain his favorite, glittering obsession. To her, the game was easy: the more she teased, the more he gave. Because at the end of the day, this Spoiled Kinky Brat loves Cash Cows more than anything else in the world.