The heavy tension of the shoot finally broke, replaced by the high-octane buzz of a job well done. The "blue room" felt less like a stage and more like a winner's circle.

​"That's a wrap on the main feature!" Lana called out, her voice filled with a rare, genuine warmth. She signaled to a PA, who immediately appeared with a tray of chilled crystal flutes and a vintage bottle of champagne.

​Holmes stepped out from behind the master console, his usual stoic expression replaced by a wide, toothy grin. He looked like he'd just watched his favorite team win the championship. He walked straight over to me, extending a large, calloused hand.

​"Hart, man... I've seen a thousand shoots," Holmes said, his voice a low rumble of respect as he shook my hand firmly. "But that? That was different. You weren't just hitting marks; you were dominating the space. The chemistry with the girls was off the charts."

​I took a glass of champagne, the bubbles sharp and cold against my tongue. Sasha and Jess, wrapped in plush white robes but still glowing from the exertion, joined the circle. They leaned into me, one on each side, the scent of the shoot still clinging to them.

​"To the New King," Lana toasted, raising her glass high. The light from the studio reflected in the amber liquid. "And to the finest production this city has ever seen."

​We stood there for a few minutes, the small crew buzzing around us, everyone feeling the high of the "magic" we'd just captured. Holmes leaned in closer to me, lowering his voice so only I could hear.

​"You realize what you've done, right?" Holmes asked, nodding toward the door where Abigail had vanished. "You didn't just make a movie. You broke the untouchable. I've never seen her look like that. You've got the power now, Hart. Not just over the girls, but over the whole operation."

​I glanced at the empty space in the shadows. Holmes was right. The dynamic had shifted. I wasn't just the "talent" anymore; I was the center of gravity for the entire studio.

​"I'm just getting started, Holmes," I replied, catching Lana's eye. She winked, clearly already planning our next collaboration.

I walked through the thinning crowd of crew members, the adrenaline from the shoot still humming in my veins. Lana was standing by the monitor, silhouetted against the glowing screens. As I approached, she turned, her eyes dark and full of a predatory intelligence.

​"The footage is even better than I thought, Hart," she murmured, her voice a low, husky vibration. She stepped into my space, the scent of her expensive perfume cutting through the lingering smell of the studio. She reached out, her long, manicured nails tracing slow, teasing circles across my bare chest, stopping just over my heart. "But I think the live performance has even more... potential."

​She leaned in, her lips hovering inches from mine. "Come to my place tonight. Just the two of us. No cameras, no directors. Just the 'magic' you promised." Her tone was thick with a promise of something far more sophisticated and intense than what we'd just filmed.

​For a second, the offer was incredibly tempting. Lana was a queen in this industry, and the power dynamic between us was a fire I wanted to play with. But then, a sharp memory flickered in the back of my mind: Chloe.

​I hadn't seen her since I'd left her at the old place yesterday. My phone had been a constant buzz of ignored notifications—desperate texts and missed calls that I'd pushed aside to focus on the studio. I knew she was probably spiraling, and as much as I enjoyed the chaos, I couldn't leave that thread dangling any longer.

​I caught Lana's hand, gently but firmly stopping the movement of her nails. I looked her straight in the eye, giving her a slow, confident grin.

​"As much as I'd love to see what's behind the curtain at your place, Lana, I have some 'unfinished business' from my past life that needs my attention tonight."

​Her eyes narrowed slightly, a flash of disappointment crossing her face before it was replaced by a look of intrigued respect. She wasn't used to being told no.

​"Business before pleasure?" she asked, her voice tilting upward.

​"Always," I said, leaning in to whisper against her ear. "But I promise you... I'll be visiting your place soon. And when I do, I won't be in a hurry to leave."

​I gave her a final, lingering look and turned toward the exit.

Sasha ran after me and met me at the doorway.

"Hey,"She said.

"Hey you too."I said back.

"Leaving without me?"she said.

Then it struck me that I hadn't told her that I wasn't leaving at the same old apartment she leaved in.

"Ahem. Sasha I'm no longer staying at that place anymore. Big Mom got me a new apartment."I said.

She blinked twice.

Sasha froze, her hand still reaching out as if to grab my sleeve. The playful, post-shoot energy drained out of her face, replaced by a look of genuine confusion that slowly sharpened into hurt.

​"Big Mom got you a new place?" she repeated, her voice small. "Since when? I mean... we've been living down the hall from each other since I started. I thought we were... you know, a team."

​She blinked twice, her long eyelashes still slightly clumped from the mascara and the "work" we had just done on set. Standing there in her oversized hoodie with her damp hair, she looked less like the high-end star Lana had just directed and more like the girl who used to knock on my door to borrow coffee or hide from a bad date.

​"It happened fast, Sasha," I said, keeping my tone steady but firm. I didn't want to give her too much hope, but I didn't want to break her spirit either. "The move with Lana, the new contract... it came with an upgrade. Security, privacy. You know how Big Mom works."

​She looked down at her sneakers, scuffing the toe against the studio floor. "Right. Security. Of course." She let out a dry, hollow laugh. "I guess a 'Main Man' can't be living in a dump with the rest of us forever. Does Chloe know? Is she at the new place too?"

​The mention of Chloe made my jaw tighten. "No. Chloe is still at the old apartment. That's actually where I'm heading now. I have to settle things."

​Sasha looked up, a flicker of her usual spark returning to her eyes. "So you're going back there tonight? To see her?" She took a half-step closer, the scent of the studio soap she'd used to scrub my cum off her face wafting toward me. "Is it just for 'business,' Hart? Or are you going to miss having a neighbor you can actually trust?"

​The vulnerability in her voice was a sharp contrast to the cold, calculating world I had spent the last few hours in. She was realized that as I climbed the ladder, I was leaving people behind—and she was terrified she was next.

"Now's not the time, Sash," I said, my voice heavy with the day's exhaustion. "We can talk about this another day. I'm just drained. Look, I'm headed in your direction anyway—why don't you hop in with me?"

​She gave a small, hesitant nod, the hurt in her eyes softening into a tired gratitude. She followed me out of the studio toward the curb where the new Cadillac Escalade sat idling, its black paint gleaming like polished obsidian under the streetlights.

​Two-bit held the door open for us, his massive frame a silent, imposing shadow. Sasha's eyes widened as she stepped into the plush interior. The smell of expensive leather and "new car" was a far cry from the cramped, stale-smelling Ubers we used to share. We sat in the back in comfortable silence as Two-bit pulled away, the city lights blurring past the tinted windows.

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