Chapter 2: The Offer

The official invitation by Luca's PR team didn't take him by surprise. His editor already gave him a piece of the cake and he was prepared for it.

As the warm morning light filtered through his curtains, bathing the room in a soft golden glow, he lay there for a moment, staring at the ceiling like a movie was playing in it. He glanced at the clock on his bedside _7:45am. “If I don't get up soon, I will be scrambling to get ready, I can't be late today”. He sat up and stretched himself, blinking away the remnants of sleep, then threw off the blankets. He rushes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and have a decent bath. Meeting a celebrity icon has to come with some form of freshness and sweet scent.

Dressed in a properly ironed tailored suit, with brown curled hair, he carried his blue worn-out duffel bag containing loads of files for criticizing different celebrities, upcoming band groups and expert artists, indeed a stunt ironic Journalist.

The downtown skyline loomed over Daniel as he stepped out of the elevator, he clutched his bag closer to his chest.

Luca's mansion towered about Brooklyn like it owned the city -polished, untouchable, and intimidating.

Daniel arrived earlier than the time given. “ If I have to speak with this bastard, I need to be done with it right away”, he says to himself while waiting in his office.

Luca's office stood out, distinguished, well arrayed, with beautiful indoor decorations and awards lined up in the front way; I mean, how do u know he's Brooklyn’s megastar if he doesn't show off his awards as an Icon that he is?

The conference room smelled like money.  

Daniel Reyes sat stiffly in a chair that probably cost more than his monthly rent, his stomach rumbling from not having a decent meal last night, fingers drumming against his notebook. Through the glass walls, he could see Luca Moretti's PR team scurrying around like ants, shooting him glances that wavered between pity and suspicion.  

His phone buzzed in his pocket.  

 Unknown Number: Changed your mind yet?  

Daniel clenched his jaw. The photo in his phone burned against his thigh where he'd saved it—Luca Moretti, America's heart-throb, caught in a moment of raw, unscripted desire.  

The door swung open before he could reply.  

"Mr. Reyes!"  

Jordan Keating, Luca's head of PR, trusted ally, and manager, enters the room with the kind of smile that makes Daniel's skin crawl. It was too white, too practised. The smile of a man who had never had a genuine emotion in his life.  

"So sorry to keep you waiting," Jordan said, not sounding sorry at all. "Luca's just wrapping up with Vanity Fair, negotiating his role in their new movie. He's been desperate to meet you."  

Daniel checked his watch.” I have been waiting for Forty-seven minutes, how eager is he to see me?”.

Jordan's smile didn't waver. He continued. "We loved your last piece on that weird band. So... shrewd, concise and ironical."  

"Funny," Daniel said flatly. "The band called it “a hate crime in print.” “They should understand that not every band is worth the fame in Brooklyn, Fame should be earned by real hard work and integrity.”

Before Jordan could respond, the door burst open.  

And there he was.  

Luca Moretti.  

Up close, he was taller than Daniel expected. His brown hair was skillfully unkempt, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass, his piercing grey eyes were breathtaking, and his athletic structure was quite commanding. A designer coat was slung over one shoulder, and his smile was blinding—but Daniel didn't miss the bruise on his knuckles, the fresh cut along his jaw.  

"Daniel Reyes," Luca said, voice smooth as whiskey. "Finally."  

He extended a hand. Daniel didn't take it.  

"You're late."  

Luca's grin didn't falter. He slid a coffee cup across the table. The sleeve read’ princess’ in a Sharpie.  

"Peace offering," he said.  

Daniel didn't touch it.  

Jordan cleared his throat. "We were hoping you could write a profile on Luca. A Brooklyn’s Golden Boy Gone Rogue piece."  

Daniel leaned back in his chair. "Or?"  

Luca raised an eyebrow. "Or?"  

Slowly, Daniel pulled out his phone. Turned it around. The photo glowed on the screen—Luca pressed against another man in a dim hallway, his fingers tangled in the man's shirt like he was drowning, their lips entangled without caution.

Jordan made a sound like a blown-up balloon.” How did you get this photo, you Moron”.

"Jordan," Luca said, the voice suddenly ice. "Leave us alone."  

The second the door clicked shut, Luca's mask slipped.  

"How much?" he asked.  

Daniel blinked. "What?"  

"To delete that." Luca pulled out a chequebook. "Name your price."  

Daniel laughed—a sharp, ugly sound. "You think I'm for sale?"  

"Everyone's for sale." Luca scribbled a number with too many zeros and slid it across the table.  

Daniel didn't even glance at it. "You're pathetic."  

For a fraction of a second, Luca's polished facade cracked. Something raw and furious flashed in his eyes.  

"Then what do you want?" he snapped.  

Daniel stood. Pocked his phone. "The truth."  

Luca's laugh was bitter. "That's expensive."  

"Then you can't afford me."  

Daniel was halfway to the door when Luca called after him:  

"You'll be back, Reyes!"  

Daniel didn't turn around.  

He slammed the door behind him

Asshole!!!