The Audition.

Angel’s Point Of View

Two Days later

I slipped into a peach-colored palazzo, the fabric hugging my thighs and ass like a second skin.

The matching halter top revealed just enough cleavage, and my curls tumbled down my back. A swipe of gloss, a spritz of perfume, and glass heels completed the look.

“Luca,” I called as I entered the kitchen. He was already making breakfast.

“Hey, sis,” he grinned.

“That smells amazing. Wish I could stay and eat.”

“You’re leaving already? Isn’t it too early?”

“Mr. Noah wants us in LA early. The interview’s at one.”

He nodded, and I moved closer.

“If I don’t make it back, take Mom to the hospital. She’s being admitted today. I’ve done the paperwork, just get her room number and nurse. And don’t forget her meds…”

He gave me a look. “Got it, Angel. I’m not twelve.”

I rolled my eyes. “Can you drop me off?”

He groaned but agreed.

At the club, I found Red in her room, applying makeup.

“You’re early,” she teased.

“Curious about the interview.” I smiled.

She offered me a touch-up. I declined—lip gloss was enough for me.

Red stood, dressed in a deep blue dress with a plunging neckline. Her fiery hair and smoky eyes gave her that signature femme-fatale look.

She grabbed her bag, and we headed out.

Mr. Noah and the others were already in the parking lot.

“Good morning, Mr. Noah,” I greeted.

“Hello, Angel. Ready for the day?” His eyes glinted with something unreadable.

“Let’s go,” he said, then turned to me.

“You’re riding with me.”

I blinked. “But—”

“No arguments, sweetheart.”

He opened the door. I hesitated, then got in. Red slid into the front seat.

The city blurred past as we drove to the airport. Mr. Noah’s private jet was waiting. Again, I wasn’t with the others.

“She thinks she’s special,” I heard Cassie mutter behind me. “Bet she’s screwing the boss.”

I ignored her. She hated me ever since Red named me best dancer, claiming I stole the guys she wanted.

Onboard, a flight attendant handed me juice. I accepted with a quiet thanks.

An hour later, we landed in LA. Luxury cars lined the runway. I moved to join the others, but Mr. Noah stopped me again.

“With me, Angel.”

I caught the glances—the jealousy, the whispers. Insecurity twisted in my gut.

“Mr. Noah—”

“Ignore them,” he said quietly. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

With a silent nod, I followed.

******

We arrived at a skyscraper, a glass behemoth that shimmered against the sky. I wondered how breathtaking it would look at night.

A fountain gurgled in the center of the meticulously landscaped grounds, flowers blooming vibrantly around lush green lawns.

I took a moment to admire the luxury that enveloped the place, my gaze drifting to the expensive cars lined in the driveway.

"Wow, this place is beautiful!" Cassie exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder. Mr. Noah nodded in agreement.

"It sure is. Come on, ladies!" He called, leading us into the building.

Upon entering, I was greeted by a chilly atmosphere that was oddly refreshing. The lovely scent of something floral and sweet wafted through the air.

The interior was a pristine white, making the entire space feel ethereal and magnificent.

The sounds of laughter and chatter echoed through the expansive lobby, punctuated by the clicking of high heels on the polished marble floors.

It was a blend of life and excitement, and I felt a thrill run through me at how luxurious it was.

A woman in a gray pantsuit approached.

“Mr. Spencer,” Noah greeted, shaking her hand. Her eyes, however, lingered on me, making me acutely uncomfortable. I offered a shy smile and quickly looked away.

“Are these the ladies?” She asked, and Mr Noah nodded firmly.

“Hello, ladies. I’m Mariella,” she introduced herself, exuding a friendly warmth. Cassie opened her mouth to respond, but Mariella waved it off.

“Don’t worry about introductions; we’ll all get to know each other soon enough. Follow me!”

She led us to an elevator, large enough to house all of us. As the elevator doors slid shut, I felt a mix of excitement and nervousness.

The ride to the designated floor felt surreal, as if I were ascending into a different realm.

When the doors opened, I was met with an expanse of glass that made me feel as if I were stepping into a world of infinite reflections.

We navigated the glossy marble floor towards a brown door that Mariella pushed open. My mouth fell agape in astonishment.

“A film studio?” I whispered, taking in the sights of cameras, sound stages, and green screens.

The room buzzed with activity, people busy at work, their voices creating a buzzy hum.

Mariella approached a woman clad in a black t-shirt and pants, headphones perched on her head, and notepad in hand. She listened intently as Mariella spoke.

After a brief conversation, Mariella patted the woman on the back and returned to us.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Spencer, but you’ll have to wait a little bit. Mr. D’Amano isn’t here yet.”

“It’s no problem, Ms. Mariella. We’ll wait,” Mr. Noah replied, his voice calm and composed.

“Mr. Noah, you still haven’t told us what this interview is about,” Cassie whispered once Mariella left.

“Patience, Cassie. You’ll find out soon,” he said with a knowing smile.

Moments later, Mariella returned and led us to the floor above, where the same glass architecture and gray marble tiles continued to astound me.

There were only two doors: one made of transparent glass and the other a solid black wood, more discreetly placed from viewer’s sight.

Mariella opened the glass door, revealing a stunning conference room. The air smelled of coffee and a blend of sophisticated colognes.

A long glass table sat in the center, surrounded by plush brown leather chairs that looked incredibly comfortable.

Mariella gestured for us to sit, and immediately, I sank into one of the chairs, allowing my elbow to rest on the smooth glass surface.

A few minutes later, the door swung open, and my breath hitched. A man—a specially made one entered, radiating confidence and power.

He wore a crisp white suit over a white turtleneck, showcasing his physique.

A delicate cross earring hung from his ear, and expensive chains rested on his chest.

His athletic build was clearly defined even through his clothing.

His curly hair was tied in a bun, slightly faded at the sides. He wore dark sunglasses, concealing eyes I desperately wanted to see.

Mariella curtsied slightly as he approached.

“Welcome, sir,” she murmured, her fingers trembling slightly. He ignored her, not intentionally but because he was on a call.

"Mamá, I'm so sorry, we can't visit this weekend. I promise we'll make it up to you. I have to talk to you later, we have a meeting right now."

Then, a woman appeared. She was stunning in a white, off-the-shoulder gown, showcasing a very expensive-looking necklace and matching white heels.

Her blonde hair was pulled high in a bun, bright pink lipstick accentuated her thin lips, and her green eyes were striking.

She had the physique of a model, with sharp cheekbones. She walked confidently and sat beside the handsome man.Their matching outfits spoke of a couple.

“Good afternoon, ma’am,” Mariella greeted her; she responded with a curt nod.

“Mr. D’Amano,” Noah stood, extending his hand.

Mr. D’Amano finally removed his sunglasses, and I gasped. His eyes were a captivating, electric blue, devoid of emotion yet intensely powerful. They were like a cold, beautiful ocean, drawing me in.

The atmosphere shifted as he scanned the room. His gaze lingered on me, as he found me.

A sharp breath escaped my lips, and I quickly averted my eyes, feeling the weight of his intense stare; it felt like he could see right through me.

There was something both thrilling and terrifying about his presence.

He finally shook Mr Noah's hand. I caught sight of a tattoo and the expensive rings on his fingers.

****

The meeting began, and all eyes were on Mariella, our designated spokesperson.

I stole furtive glances at the handsome Mr. D’Amano, hoping he wouldn’t catch me in my moment of distraction. He was breathtakingly beautiful, and I couldn't help myself.

There was something undeniably captivating about him; his presence was magnetic, and I couldn’t help but admire the way he carried himself.

“Okay, ladies, this interview is more of an audition, alright? Mr. D'Amano and his wife will want to see how good y’all are at what you do.” Mariella began.

The words had barely left her lips when a squeal pierced the air, it was Cassie.

All eyes turned to her, and she instantly lowered her head, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she whispered a soft “sorry.”

Mrs. D’Amano’s icy glare could have frozen hell over. If looks could kill, Cassie would be six feet under.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Mariella," Jade, one of the dancers, piped up, "but why do we have to perform in front of them? What's this audition about?"

Mr. D’Amano’s gaze, cold and sharp as a winter’s day, landed squarely on her. Noah and Red shot her warning looks. Jade pursed her lips.

"Noah, I want to have a word with you," Mr. D’Amano’s voice rumbled, low and husky, a captivating blend of dominance and smoothness.

"Catalina, you can go ahead; I’ll join you in a few."

My breath hitched. His voice was honey, the way his lips moved as he spoke had me curling my toes in my shoes. It was intoxicating. I had to remind myself, that he’s married, Angel.

My mom wouldn't approve of these thoughts.

“Let’s go, ladies,” Ms. Mariella announced, her tone firm yet encouraging. We stood up to follow her, along with Mrs. D’Amano, who walked with the grace of a runway model.

We entered a large, empty room, and my heart sank the reality of our situation became clear.

Two chairs were positioned in front of a stage, with a pole standing prominently in the center.

The atmosphere felt charged, like a drama theatre waiting for its audience.

“While we wait for Mr. D'Amano, go get ready,” Mariella instructed. She beckoned Red to a corner and whispered something in her ear, prompting Red to nod in understanding.

Red turned back to us, urging us to follow her.

On a queen-sized bed lay a black piece of clothing and a pair of silver heels. I sighed and sank at the edge of the bed, overwhelmed.

This wasn’t what I’d expected.

I had flown all the way from Malibu to LA, thinking I was about to land a real job, but here I was, being asked to perform an exotic dance in front of a world-class celebrity.

The shame choked me like a cloak being tied around my neck.

"Angel, are you done—" Red’s words trailed off.

"Angel?" She sat beside me, noticing my tears.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Red’s hand rested on my shoulder. I spilled my fears, my humiliation. She smiled.

"Angel, I know this isn't what you envisioned. Being an exotic dancer isn't what you wanted, but I promise, after today, you won’t have to dance on a pole again."

Confusion clouded my tear-filled eyes.

"Wh…what do you mean?"

Red smiled, lifting my chin. "You'll know soon, darling. Now get your ass up and get ready. Let that ass and those hips work their magic. You'll be thanking me one day," she winked, then left.

Her words lit up the darkness within me, and a small smile played on my lips. I sat before the dresser, beginning my makeup.