Evelyn Sun's estate was a fortress of modern decadence carved into the hills of Beverly Hills. As the gates hummed open, the driveway revealed a fleet that looked like a curated showroom of excess. There was a Bentley Continental GT in a deep, shimmering emerald, a blood-red Ferrari F8 that looked like it was idling at two hundred miles per hour, a blacked-out GMC Yukon Denali for the heavy lifting, and a Range Rover Autobiography for the daily errands. It was a testament to the sheer, unfiltered wealth being generated by her digital empire.

​The mansion itself was "Old Money" architecture—limestone pillars, ivy-covered brick, and ironwork that felt like it belonged to a European consulate. It was a masterclass in taste; Evelyn wasn't just making money, she was refining it.

​A maid in a crisp uniform met us in the vaulted hallway, her voice a quiet murmur as she informed us that Miss Sun was expecting us by the poolside.

​Cami led the way, her heels clicking authoritatively against the herringbone hardwood. As we stepped through the arched French doors, the backyard opened up into an oasis. A massive infinity pool seemed to spill directly into the Los Angeles skyline.

​There, draped across a white designer lounger under a custom silk umbrella, was Evelyn.

She was a vision of curated perfection. Clad in a gold-chain bikini that complemented her olive skin, she looked every bit the digital empress she was. But the tranquility of the scene was broken by the man in the water.

​The man swimming in the pool was a specimen of pure, aggressive masculinity. He moved through the turquoise water with an easy power, his blonde hair slicked back. Clad in nothing but a pair of tight red trunks, he looked like he'd been carved out of granite.

I caught Cami's gaze lingering a second too long on the way the water beaded off his chest; her professional armor was definitely sporting a few cracks.

​"You guys wanna join us for a swim?" He shouted, his voice echoing off the limestone walls of the grotto.

​"Oh my gosh, I would love to," Cami blurted out. She looked down at her designer suit and heels, her frustration palpable. "But I'm exactly zero percent dressed for it."

​"What about you two? No?" The man's grin was wide, but it was aimed squarely at Sasha. It was the look of a man used to taking whatever he wanted, and right now, he was sizing up my girl like she was the afternoon snack.

​"Nuh man, we're good," I said, my voice flat.

​"Come on, man," The dude challenged, treading water and flashing a cocky, white-toothed smile. "You scared of the water or something?"

​"Yeah, maybe," I replied coldly. I didn't need to prove my testosterone levels to a guy in a speedo.

​"What will a little water do to a hunk like you... huh?" he prodded, his tone veering into that territory of disrespect that usually ended with someone getting hurt.

​"Bruno, would you stop nagging my guests?" Evelyn finally spoke. Her voice was smooth, like expensive bourbon, instantly cutting through the tension. She sat up, sliding her shades down her nose to reveal sharp, calculating eyes.

​I wondered if Bruno was her boyfriend or just the current "flavor of the week" she kept around for the aesthetics. Either way, he was a distraction.

​"Hi guys," Evelyn greeted, her eyes lingering on me for a beat longer than necessary before shifting to Sasha and Cami. "Ignore Bruno. He thinks the world is his personal playground just because he looks good in red."

I felt the corners of my mouth twitch as the tension in my chest hit a sudden, unexpected wall. I'd spent the last twenty-four hours in a state of high-alert hyper-masculinity, ready to fight off any dog that barked at my territory. I had Bruno pegged as the arrogant boyfriend, the kind of guy I'd eventually have to put in his place.

​"Most men do that in front of their women," I said, my voice projecting a cool, protective edge. I didn't back down, keeping my eyes locked on the blonde guy in the water.

​The silence that followed was a dramatic kind—it was broken by the sound of Cami and Sasha simultaneously bursting into giggles. Sasha hid her face against my shoulder, her shoulders shaking with laughter.

​I blinked, the "Alpha" mask slipping just a fraction. "What? What's wrong?"

​Sasha looked up at me, her eyes bright with amusement, and leaned in to whisper just loud enough for everyone to hear. "Druski... Bruno is Evelyn's brother."

​Bruno let out a booming laugh, splashing back into the center of the pool. "Relax, big man! I'm just messing with you. I've seen your work—I'm a fan! I just wanted to see if the King of Porn was as tough as they say on the blogs."

​Evelyn rolled her eyes, though a small, impressed smile played on her lips as she watched me. She liked the fire, even if I'd aimed it at the wrong target. "He's a pain in the ass," she said, gesturing for us to sit in the cushioned chairs opposite her. "But he's blood. Bruno, go put some clothes on and tell Maria to bring out the chilled Pinot and those Wagyu sliders."

​"On it, sis," Bruno shouted, vaulting out of the pool with an athletic grace that made Cami's head turn again. He gave me a respectful nod as he passed. "Nice to meet you, Druski. You got a hell of a grip on that girl. I respect it."

​As he disappeared into the house, Evelyn turned her full attention back to me. The playfulness was gone. Now, it was just the business of the empire.

​"Shall we get the party started?" Evelyn asked, her eyes sparking with a playful but sharp intelligence. She reached for a glass of sparkling water, her movements fluid and practiced.

​"Where's your manager?" I asked, looking around the expansive deck. In this town, women at her level usually traveled with a phalanx of agents and lawyers.

​"Bruno is her manager," Cami answered for her, her voice regaining its professional cadence. She was watching me, curious to see how I'd handle the fact that the guy I almost went head-to-head with was the one holding the contracts.

​Evelyn's smile widened, a bit of mischief dancing in her gaze. "What? You don't like the idea of my brother pimping me out?"

​The word hung in the air, blunt and provocative. Sasha shifted beside me, her hand tightening slightly on my arm. The "Old Money" walls of the mansion suddenly felt very thin compared to the raw reality of the business we were in.

​"I never said that," I replied, keeping my voice steady and my gaze locked on hers. "Family business is usually the most loyal business. But it means the stakes are higher. You aren't just protecting a client; you're protecting your blood."

​Evelyn nodded slowly, appearing to appreciate the pivot. "Exactly. Bruno handles the 'no's' so I can stay the 'yes' girl. But today, Druski, I'm the one who needs to be convinced. Cami speaks highly of your eye and your ambition. But I've seen 'ambitious' men come and go in this zip code every week."

I wasn't here to audition or beg for a seat at her table; I was here to build a new one.

​"Let's drop the bullshit, Evelyn," I said, my voice dropping into a low, steady grit that commanded the space. "You and Bruno didn't invite me to Beverly Hills to hear a sales pitch. You've seen my videos. You've seen the numbers I'm pulling and the way I frame my scenes. I don't have to prove my talent to you—my track record already did that before I stepped through your front gates."

​Evelyn didn't flinch. Instead, she took a slow sip of her water, her eyes tracking me with a newfound intensity, a mix of respect and provocation.

​"Okay... fair enough," she conceded, a sharp, feline grin touching her lips. "When Bruno comes back with the wine, we'll go through the technical details of the distribution agreement." She leaned forward, the gold chains of her bikini clinking softly, her gaze sizing me up like a predator looking at a prize. "But the real question is... are you ready?"

​I met her stare head-on. "Depends. Ready for what exactly?"

​"To have sex with me, of course," she said, as casually as if she were discussing the weather. "I don't believe in wasting momentum. I want to shoot the scene as soon as the ink is dry on the agreement. I want to see if that 'King' energy translates when the cameras are rolling."

​Beside me, I felt Sasha's body go rigid. The air on the terrace suddenly felt electric, thick with the scent of expensive perfume, chlorine, and a sudden, high-stakes sexual tension. I had just asked Sasha to be my girlfriend an hour ago, and now I was being asked to perform with the biggest star in the city while she watched.

Bruno stepped back onto the terrace, the ice clinking in the wine bucket as he set the tray down on the marble table. He looked between Evelyn and me, picking up on the sudden, heavy silence that had fallen over the group. He didn't miss the way Sasha was sitting—shoulders back, chin up, eyes fixed on Evelyn like she was ready to defend her territory.

​"Whoa," Bruno chuckled, sliding a plate of Wagyu sliders toward me. "Did I miss the part where we start throwing punches, or did my sister just drop the 'audition' talk on you?"

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