Axcel Agencies had a worldwide reputation. Their models graced the covers of the most prestigious magazines, walked the most exclusive runways, and represented the most luxurious brands. With branches across dozens of cities and countries, they were a powerhouse in the fashion industry.
But no one knew who the boss was.
The founder. The owner. The mysterious figure at the top of the empire. Executives managed daily operations. Managers handled contracts. CEOs ran regional branches. But the ultimate authority remained a ghost, a rumor, a na whispered in boardrooms without ever being spoken aloud.
According to industry insiders, only one model had ever t the boss face to face.
Dominique King.
The top listed model in the agency. The man whose smile launched a thousand magazine covers. No one knew why he had been granted that privilege. Most assud it was because of his success, his profitability. A few whispered that he had connections, secrets, leverage.
No one knew the truth.
Today, Dominique sat at the head of a long conference table in the agency’s headquarters. The room was sleek and modern, with floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. Around him sat a handful of executives.
His face was cold, unlike his always happy, cheerful face.
After all, he was also the boss. The founder. The owner. The mysterious figure who had built this empire from nothing.
"So," Dominique said, his voice low and smooth, "he’s trying to blacklist ?"
He let out a cold laugh. The sound echoed off the glass walls, but there was no humor in it. Only amusent. The amusent of soone who had seen this ga played a thousand tis and had never lost.
One of the executives, a woman in her forties with sharp eyes and a sharper suit, nodded. "Yes. Nicolas Vale has been contacting our competitors, offering incentives to drop you from campaigns. He’s been spreading rumors about your professionalism, your reliability, your character."
Dominique’s eyes narrowed. His fingers tapped once on the table, then stilled.
"And not only that," another executive added, "he’s offering a hundred million in investnt to any agency that agrees to blacklist you."
A hundred million.
Dominique’s lips curved in amusent. He picked up a pen from the table, turned it over in his fingers, and set it down. The movent was unhurried and graceful, like everything he did.
"That’s a lot of money," he said.
"It is," the executive agreed.
"But not enough."
The executives exchanged glances. They had worked with Dominique for years. They had seen him negotiate with the most powerful people in the industry. They had never seen him lose.
Dominique leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. His posture remained perfect, his expression unreadable.
"He wants to play gas," Dominique said. "Fine. Let’s play."
He thought for a mont, his mind working quickly. His eyes drifted to the window, to the city below, then back to the executives.
"We agree to his request," he said.
The executives blinked. "Sir?"
"Agree to blacklist publicly. Make it look like I’ve been dropped from everything, campaigns, contracts, endorsents."
"Sir, that would—"
"It would make him think he’s won." Dominique’s eyes glittered. He unfolded his hands and placed them flat on the table, a gesture of finality. "And while he’s celebrating, we quietly move my contracts to shell companies. Subsidiaries he doesn’t know about. Brands he’s never heard of."
The executives nodded slowly.
"I want you to side cast for the next few months, delay my upcoming projects," Dominique said. He would show Nicolas he was blacklisted and let him invest in his company. He wondered how his face would look when he knew the truth. And in addition, he would get an extended vacation, so he could accompany Hazel for her surgeries.
"And then?"
Dominique smiled elegantly.
"And then, when he’s invested his hundred million, when he’s committed his resources, his reputation, his credibility, we pull the rug."
He stood up, walking to the window. His movents were fluid and unhurried. He stood still, looking out at the city, his hands clasped behind his back.
"We announce a new global campaign. The biggest in our history. Featuring exclusively."
The executives murmured among themselves.
~~~~
After the whole eting ended, Dominique stepped out of the boardroom and into the crisp afternoon air. His car was waiting, the engine already running. He slid into the backseat and gave the driver Bella’s address.
He had heard about the incident from Hazel, the gift, the note, the diamond, the stalker. His jaw tightened just thinking about it. Soone was threatening Bella. He would not stand for it.
The drive was short. He spent it thinking about Nicolas, about the trap he was setting, about the hundred million dollars that would soon disappear into thin air. But those thoughts faded when the car pulled up to the Moretti estate.
He walked to the front door, not waiting to be announced. The staff knew him by now.
Bella was in the living room, curled up on the couch, her laptop open beside her. She looked up when he walked in, her brown eyes tired but warm.
"Dommy!!" she said, surprised.
"Oh, my Bella Bell," he said, crossing the room in three long strides. He pulled her into a hug, squeezing her tight. "I heard about what happened. I’m so sorry. I will help you find that creep, I promise."
Bella hugged him back, her arms wrapping around his waist. "Thank you, Dom."
He held her for a mont longer, then pulled back, keeping his hands on her shoulders. "You’re not alone in this. You have . You have Jason. You have—"
He stopped.
Leo was standing in the doorway, his gray eyes fixed on Dominique’s hands on Bella’s shoulders. His expression was cold. His jaw was tight. He looked like he was ntally calculating the fastest way to remove Dominique’s arms from his body.
Dominique’s eyes widened. He quickly dropped his hands, stepping back.
Right. Leo. Jealous. Possessive. Protective.
He had almost forgotten.
He cleared his throat, trying to look innocent. "Leo! My brother! My friend! My—"
Leo’s eyes narrowed.
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