Behind the Dragons (Book 4 of Billionaire Bad Boys Series)

Harvard, Cambridge Massachusetts… The flash blinded Brandon Sanchez. He’d been posing for pictures like one of his brother’s models. It was an exciting day, today he graduated. Seven long years of law school and he was finally a graduate. He’d passed the Bar Exam with the highest grades in his class. He’d already been offered a position at three law firms. Brandon had always been an overachiever, and it worked in his favour. It got him accepted to a prestigious law school and had him graduating with honours. He had no doubt it would serve him well in his future endeavours. He was at the start of a brilliant career. He’d start as an associate, work his way up to owning his practice, and if his plans went as planned his end goal was to one day hold a seat as a Supreme Court Judge. It was defiantly a long-term goal, but he had no doubt he would eventually achieve it. He usually achieved anything he set his mind to; he was dedicated, focused, and relentless in his pursuits. It was why he was at the top of his class and why he would one day be at the top of his field. After all, he was a Sanchez, and a Sanchez could accomplish anything. Brandon came from a long line of wealthy and driven individuals. He was a third-generation rich kid trying to carve out his place in the world. Trying to step out of his family’s shadow and make a name for himself independent from his famous lineage. He was the fourth of five sons. His father was an influential tycoon in the music industry and his lovely mother a prominent pillar of New York society owning and running the Utopia Ballet Company in New York City. His older brothers were no less overshadowing. Lance and Lucas were twins but couldn’t have been more different. Lucas was famous in his own right, a ballsy daredevil defying death in crazy organized stunts for the world to see. Lance was more reserved; he was a highly sought-after fashion photographer who had risen above the competition and was now the most in-demand photographer in the fashion world. His older brother Dominic was a world-renowned artist with paintings in all the major art galleries worldwide with his work selling for ridiculous six figures each. Then there was Justin, the baby of the family. Like Lance, he had picked up a camera and never put it down. Ever since he graduated from high school four years ago, he had been inserting himself in third world conflicts as a freelance photojournalist taking pictures of war zones and starving children with his work featured in magazines and newspapers. He was out on his own changing the world one photo at a time. Brandon sometimes felt like the odd one out. He wasn’t artistically talented in any way nor was he a performer like the rest of his family. He didn’t have the guts to jump a dirt bike; he could barely draw a stick figure. He had no rhythm and was totally tone deaf, and every time he picked up a camera he got excellent shots of his thumb. No, he wasn’t artistic, but he was smart and driven. He was going to take the judicial system by storm people would know his name all he needed was a high-profile case to get his reputation out there. Not that he needed the money, no he didn’t get into law for the money, he had money; he had a lot of money. Like his brothers, Brandon had a substantial trust fund, not to mention his cut of a multi-billion-dollar inheritance upon his father’s death. His folks had paid for his education, so he had no debt he was going into his profession debt free so every penny he made was pure profit. He was set for life. No, he didn’t do it for the money; he did it to make a difference, to build his name, to prove to himself and the world that he was the best. His mother kissed his cheek and hugged him tightly. “I am so proud of you.” She smiled. She was positively glowing with pride. “Valedictorian, I knew you were smart.” His mother was a beautiful woman small and dainty a former prima ballerina; she was all poise and grace. People said he looked like his mother. They had the same shimmering raven hair and the same powder blue eyes, whereas his father had the same dark hair, but his eyes were green, and his features were strong. Brandon did, however, have his father’s rich Latin skin tone that gave him a dark appeal. Unlike his father, Brandon’s features were softer, more angelic like his mother’s. More than once he’d been labelled a pretty boy which he frankly disliked. It meant he was feminine and he wasn’t he worked out and ate right. He worked almost as hard on his body as he did on his mind. The way he looked was almost as important as how smart he was. It was a proven fact, people were more willing to trust, talk, and volunteer information to a pretty face and a tight body than they were to someone less blessed. It wasn’t right, but it was a weapon he kept in his arsenal. Anything that would give him an edge over the competition was worth maintaining. It was like his father always said… image was everything. “So now you start the job search. Where are you going to look?” His father asked. “I’ve already got a few offers. Some of the better firms scout talent right out of school. I got an offer in Orlando, one in San Diego, and one in New York City.” He explained. “All very prestigious. Their hiring packages are very alluring.” “How are you going to choose?” His brother Lance asked. “Well, I think I’ve already decided. I’m accepting a position at Pitmen, Reynolds, and Kockrin in New York.” “Why’d you pick New York?” Lucas asked. He knew how his brothers thought. Lucas and Lance both lived in California. They preferred the white sandy beaches and warm sunny winters to the cold concrete jungle of the big apple. “Don’t listen to them; New York is the best place in the world.” On that Dominic and his mother agreed. His parents lived in Westchester where Justin often bunked when he wasn’t travelling. Dominic occupied a large loft in downtown New York, but he had a house in Montana too. Personally, Brandon agreed with Dominic and their mother; there was no place in the world quite like the NYC. “Well if you’re going to live in New York you’re going to need a place of your own. You’re too old to be living at home.” His father said. “Why don’t you move into the Manhattan penthouse?” Brandon’s face lit up. The penthouse in Manhattan used to be his father’s bachelor pad back when he was still single. His mother had moved in with him, and they had stayed in that apartment until Dominic was born and they were forced to move into a bigger place. They had kept the place and used it as a family hotel. Whenever family came to visit, they got put up in the penthouse. Brandon never had reason to stay in the penthouse, but he loved it. He couldn’t have found a better place to live. “You’re giving me the penthouse?” He asked excitedly. “Consider it a graduation gift.” His father smiled. His parents were great that way; their gifts were always sensational. For their high school graduations, each boy was given a car. Brandon personally had been presented with a stunning slick silver Aston Martin One 77. An eight hundred-thousand-dollar sports car that he had been driving for the last seven years. It was his baby. Now he got a posh penthouse with a Central Park view. Today was a great day. His future was looking bright.