"Master Arthur, your father expects you at the gala downstairs in ten minutes. The Duke of Sussex is eager to discuss the North Sea merger."
With a sigh, he saved his progress and tapped the power button. The RGB lights faded to black.
As he walked out of the room, he couldn't help but smirk. The Duke of Sussex might be a power player in the real world, but Arthur knew that compared to the Duchess of Ravencroft, the old man was an amateur.
Arthur had always found his peers—the "Old Money" crowd—stiflingly dull. They spent their time discussing polo handicaps and vintage ports. Arthur, however, preferred the digital decadence of Aristocunts .
"Tell my father I'll be down shortly, Jenkins," Arthur said, smoothing his jacket. "I’ve just finished a very... delicate negotiation."
As the clock struck midnight, the immersion was broken by a sharp knock on his door. It was his father’s valet, Jenkins.