The private lounge is quieter than the gala, but no less suffocating. Dim lights spill over leather couches. I stand near the door, arms crossed, every muscle tight refusing to relax
He sits casually at the center, a king on his throne, wine glass in hand and the same smirk.
"Mr. Ethan" he drawls, as though savoring my name. "Hollywood's golden boy"
I lift a brow, feigning indifference. "You've bought yourself a headline tonight. I suppose that's all this was about?"
He chuckles slowly. "If I wanted headlines, Ethan, I wouldn't need to spend a billion. Reporters chase me like rats after scraps"
My head clenches at the easy way he says my name– Ethan– like we're familiar. Intimate.
I take a slow step closer, careful and controlled. "Then what do you want from me?"
His gaze drags lazily over me, deliberate as though stripping me bare. My pulse quickens despite myself
"You" he says simply.
A laugh bursts from me. "That's unlikely. Coming from someone that did abandoned me years ago"
His face didn't flicker with any emotions. "I thought you forgotten"
"Fuck you" I cursed. "You caused me pain. Every time I sleep, I dream about your betrayal, the way my eyes begged you not to do it. Every single time I trusted you, with everything and everytime, I got backstab in return. Fucker"
He scoffed. How dare he? Did he know how many years that trauma could finally leave me?.
"It is in the past," he answered.
"Fuck the past and you. What do you want? Or you think you can buy whoever you wants"
"I didn't buy you" he murmurs, setting his glass aside. His fingers tap the table once, a slow rhythm. "I'm offering you something…. different. A role, no camera can capture"
I roll my eyes, but tension coils in my chest. "Let me guess– you want me to star in your life story? Mafia prince: the untold saga. Sorry, i don't audition for criminals"
The corner of his mouth curves amused by my defiance. He rises smoothly, predatory grace in every step, closing the distance between us. I forced myself to stay still as he stops inches away
His voice lowers. No. I want you to star in my world"
I huff a laugh, though my throat is dry. "You're out of your mind'
He tilts his head, studying me with unnerving calm, his hand lifts–slow enough to give me time to move away, but I don't. His fingertips graze my jaw, feather light, tracing down to my chin. My breath catched despite the disgust curling in my gut.
"Your world worships you" he says softly. "But it doesn't know you. I do"
I jerk back, glaring. "You don't know a damn thing about me"
His smile deepens "i know you don't do women" his face is cruel.
My heart stutters, the room shrinks.
"You hide it so well" he continues circling me like a predator, his gaze heavy in my skin. ", The smirks for costars, the staged romances for tabloids, but under the lights, behind the mask…." He leans close to my ear. "You're my kind"
Heat floods my face, a mixture of fury and shame. I shove him back, hard but he barely stumbles, only laughs.
"You think you're clever," I snapped. "Blackmail, is that it? Threaten my career until I play along?".
"No" his eyes gleamed. "I don't need to threaten, you already want me"
I scoff, but my throat tightens. "You're delusional"
"Am I?" He steps closer again, his hand brushing my sleeve, fingers lingering..the contact is electric, unwanted but undeniable. My body betrays me– a shiver I can't suppress. His gaze catches it and his smile turns wicked.
"That's what I thought"
I tear away, pacing, desperate to regain control. My fists clench, nails biting my palms. "I don't know what game you're playing, but I'm not your toy"
He follows slowly, deliberately. "Not a toy. A Partner"
I spin on him, fury sparking. "Never would i ever wants to have anything to do with you"
And yet my voice trembles, betraying the storm inside me.
He notices, he always notices.
"You say no" he says softly, almost kindly "but your body…." His eyes flick down, lingering. "... it remembers desire, even when your mouth denies it"
My chest heaves, breath shallow. Every nerve feels raw and exposed. "You're insane" I whisper, though the conviction is gone.
He smiles, satisfied as though he has already won.
The door bursts open– his bodyguard again, phone in hand. He murmurs something low then hands it over. The prince takes it, glances then turns the screen toward me.
My stomach drops.
Paparazzi photos. Blurry but unmistakable– me and him, side by side in the lounge, his hand brushing mines his face leaning close. Headlines already scream across the screen:
"HOLLYWOOD'S GOLDEN BOY AND BILLIONAIRE DONOR: SECRET ROMANCE?"
"No" I breathe, my chest hurts, vision spinning. "No, I shouldn't have trusted you."
He sets the phone down, watching me unravel. His voice is calm. "Relax, scandal feeds stardom. You'll thank me when the world can't look away."
Rage surges, hot and choking. "Why? Why did you set me up again? You leaked this?"
His smile is slow "of course"
I stagger back, bile rising. My career– almost built– Is now down. My fists trembled, but my voice was hoarse. "You ruined me"
"No" he steps forward, close enough that I can feel the heat of him. His hand catches my wrist, firm, his gaze pierces into mine. "I have freed you"
The words hang between us.
My breath shudders, his thumb brushes over my pulse, claiming. My body betrays me again, trembling under his touch.
I wanted to scream, I wanted to run but part of me– the part I hate– wanted to lean into him.
His lips curve in that slow victorious smile. "You will see Ethan. You're already mine"
The room spins, the floor feels unsteady. My heart pounds against my ribs, every beat louder than the last .