The silence that followed Bruno's words was heavy enough to feel physical. The only sound was the distant hum of a lawnmower somewhere else in the hills and the soft splash of the infinity pool. One hundred and fifty thousand dollars.

​My mind raced, doing the math. Five figures was a "star" rate. Six figures for a single scene was unheard of—it was movie star money, "buy-a-new-car-tomorrow" money. I looked at Sasha; her breath was hitched, her eyes darting between me and the siblings.

Even Cami was frozen with her glass halfway to her mouth.

​I looked at Evelyn. The smirk in her eyes was cold and knowing. She wasn't just offering a fee; she was buying something. She was buying me, my loyalty, or maybe she was just asserting that in this hills-top kingdom, she was the one with the real power.

​"One hundred and fifty k," I repeated, my voice steady despite the adrenaline spike. I didn't let the shock show on my face. In this game, if you look surprised by the money, you look like you don't belong in the room. "That's a specific number, Bruno. What's the catch? Because nobody pays thirty times the market rate just for 'good lighting.'"

​Bruno leaned back, popping a Wagyu slider into his mouth and chewing slowly. "No catch, Druski. It's an investment. We don't want a 'scene.' We want a three-part cinematic event. We want the pornstar and the onlyfans model collaboration to be the most searched term on the internet for the next six months. We want your name tied to ours so tightly that when people think of high-end adult content, they only see this house and your studio."

​Evelyn leaned forward, her voice a low, melodic purr. "And let's be honest... I want to see if a man who's worth that much can actually handle me. It's a lot of pressure, isn't it? To perform when the price tag is that high."

​She was testing my ego. She wanted to see if the money would make me stumble or if I'd take it as my rightful due.

I didn't blink. I didn't hesitate. I reached for my glass of Pinot, took a slow, deliberate sip, and let the silence stretch just long enough to make them wonder if I was going to walk away.

​"One-fifty is a solid opening, Bruno," I said, my voice cutting through the air like a blade. "But for a three-part 'cinematic event' that's going to carry your brand for the next six months? You're getting me at a discount. Make it two hundred thousand. In exchange, I'll give you thirty days of total exclusivity before it hits my network. And I keep the raw masters for the studio archives."

​Bruno's eyebrows shot up. He looked at Evelyn, who was watching me with a fascinated, almost hungry expression. She liked the audacity.

​"And one more thing," I added, leaning forward and resting my hand over Sasha's. She looked at me, startled. "I'm not just the talent today. I'm the Executive Producer. And my girlfriend, Sasha? She's the Lead Director for this shoot. If she doesn't like the angle, we reset. If she says the lighting is off, we fix it. You want the pornstar and only model magic? You do it my way, with my team."

​Giving Sasha the director's chair was a strategic masterstroke. It put her in a position of power over Evelyn, neutralizing the "threat" of the scene, and it told the Sun siblings that they couldn't buy my soul—they were hiring a firm.

​Evelyn let out a sharp, sudden laugh, her eyes shimmering. "A two-hundred-thousand-dollar payday and he puts his girl in charge of the camera? You've got balls, Druski. I'll give you that."

​Bruno grinned, tapping a few commands into his tablet. "Two hundred thousand. Thirty-day exclusive. Sasha calls the 'Action.' You've got yourself a deal,Mr Hart."

​He held out his hand. I gripped it, the firm shake sealing the biggest contract of my career.

​"Alright," Evelyn said, standing up and letting her gold-chain bikini catch the full glare of the sun. She looked like a goddess, but she was looking at us like we were the ones to watch. "The contracts are being digitally sent now. Sasha, I hope you're ready to work. I'm not an easy subject."

​Sasha stood up next to me, her chest out, her face glowing with a new kind of confidence. "Don't worry, Evelyn," Sasha said, her voice steady. "I know exactly how to get the best out of my man."

The maid, a silent woman in a crisp uniform, led us up a sweeping marble staircase and down a gallery lined with contemporary art that likely cost more than my first three studios combined. She pushed open a set of heavy mahogany double doors, revealing a guest suite that overlooked the canyon. The air inside was chilled to perfection, smelling of expensive citrus and fresh linen.

​The moment the door clicked shut, the silence of the room was broken by Sasha's sharp exhale. She turned to me, her eyes wide, clutching her tablet to her chest as if she were holding a holy relic.

​"Two hundred thousand dollars, Druski?" she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of shock and pure adrenaline. "And you made me the Director? My heart is beating so hard I can feel it in my throat."

​I walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking out at the sprawling estate. "Take a breath, Director," I said, my voice low and grounding. "They have the money and the cars, but they don't have the soul. Did you see Evelyn's face when I asked for a storyboard? She's used to guys just showing up, performing, and leaving. She thinks this is just a 'fuck.' She doesn't realize we're about to build a legacy."

​I turned back to her, my eyes locking onto hers with intense focus. "We have until 3:00 PM. That's less than three hours to script a masterpiece. If we're taking that kind of money, we're giving them something that will set the internet on fire. We need a narrative. We need to play into this 'Old Money' mansion vibe—the untouchable Ice Queen meeting the man who doesn't believe in glass ceilings."

​Sasha sat on the edge of the massive king-sized bed, her professional brain finally clicking into gear. "Okay. If I'm directing, I want to play with the power shift. She's the lady of the manor, draped in silk and arrogance. You're the architect—the man she hired to build her world, who ends up tearing it down. We start in her library or by that desk. Minimal clothing, maximum tension."

​I nodded, liking the angle. "The 'Lady and the Legend.' We keep the first act slow. High-tension glances. Let the audience starve for the touch. Then, for the finale, we break the ice in that master suite."

​As we began sketching out the shots—the specific angles for her close-ups, the lighting cues to catch the gold in her skin, and the way I wanted Sasha to command the room—the exhaustion of the last twenty-four hours vanished. In its place was the cold, sharp clarity of a creator about to claim his crown.

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