Page 1 of Brutal King

Prologue

Katrina (Kat)

I LOOKED OUT OVER THE sea of pastel designer suitcases that stood erect like soldiers that have seen the cobblestones of Europe, the grass of South America, and the concrete walkways of Asia. Some wore the hint of battle scars more than others with scuff marks, scratches, and dents along their tough exteriors. While others were still brand new, still in its plastic wrap.

I must admit, I tend to obsess over collecting things that I like. My collection of suitcases, travel totes, backpacks, and cosmetics cases took up one entire closet in my large bedroom, which my parents were smart to retrofit for me when we bought the mansion from a tech founder.

My other closet was large enough to house a dresser island in the center with built-in shelves all over and a full-length mirror covering an entire wall. Rows of dresses, coats, tops, pants, and shoes filled the closet with a splash of color. Everything had been organized by color and function.

If I wasn’t my parents’ only child, obligated to go into the family business, I would have become a fashion designer. Who could blame me when my mother and relatives were so fashion obsessed. One look at us, people would think we were the cast straight out of Crazy Rich Asians, the film featuring the uber rich of Asia parading around in garish designer outfits all the time.

Where would I be without my favorite Kate Spade duffle bag and my Tumi backpack? I had traveled the world with my parents visiting our restaurants with them, trusting them to carry my laptop containing all my homework and assignments which I still had to finish while I traveled on business.

The last year of high school was stressful, as I combined school with learning the family business. The restaurant business which my father had turned into an empire, was the family business that extended all over the world.

But now, I was back home in San Francisco, and ready to move to my dorm at a famous culinary institute.

I sighed.

I was told to limit the number of suitcases I packed. There would be limited closet space, they said. So, I had three of them set up on my bed, open and waiting for more articles of clothing, not to mention shoes and personal items. Out of all my suitcases, I picked three. Only three, for the entire year living in a dorm where I will now begin an entirely new life.

“What do you think, Miffy?” I asked my six-year-old pure white Pomeranian. “Is it too much? Do you think I need to cut back?”

Miffy jumped onto the bedroom bench at the foot of my bed, scampered onto the bed and climbed into the largest of my suitcases. “Yap, yap!”

“I guess you’re right,” I said. “Three really is too much. After all, the culinary institute is only an hour away. I can always come back to switch out my wardrobe.”

I went through everything I’d packed and picked out my very favorite outfits, and of course, the shoes that went with each. Soon I was down to a reasonable two large suitcases.

“Thanks,” I said to Miffy. “You’ve talked some logic into me.” I picked her up and hugged her. “Too bad I can’t bring you with me to school.”

“Kat?” Mom called through my bedroom door. “Breakfast is ready.”

“Be right there.”

I looked around my room. Two years earlier, for my sixteenth birthday, I was given the right to completely redecorate my room to my liking. Gone were all the cuddly stuffed animals... well almost all of them. There was no way I was going to get rid of my pink kitty and my big orange tiger.

I’d also torn down the posters of those cute guys in the boy bands that I once loved so much. My walls were now adorned with classic artwork from French, Dutch and Italian artists, but also two works from Yan Pei-Ming, a Chinese/French artist who’d captured my attention with his impressive brush strokes.

Along with the Chinese art, I had a black lacquered pagoda design curio case, complete with steepled top and glass shelves that took up a corner of the sitting area of my room. It was a nod to my heritage. The curio case housed the first Asian figurine I’d bought as a child; a dog sitting on a little girl’s lap. And during my few trips to Singapore, I’d purchased blue and white porcelain vases to house fresh flowers Mom would cut from our garden every week.

I cherished them all; as if every piece held a secret to my past.

“I’m going to miss this room,” I told Miffy.

She yapped in response.

“Yes, yes. Of course I’m going to miss you, too.”

I knew the institute had impressive dorm rooms, but I knew that it would be nothing like this.

My bedroom was large with more than enough room to lounge, relax, do homework and, of course, sleep. Two large windows gave me a magnificent view of the bay with a peek at the Golden Gate Bridge if I leaned to the left and gazed toward the right.

I smiled as I looked around, flooded with warm memories. My room was classic elegance; the room of a mature young woman ready to go off to college... ready to take on the world.

“Katrina!” Mom called from the hall. “Your breakfast is getting cold.”

“I just need to get dressed and I’ll be right down.”

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