10 Morgana × Dorian Gray (2)

"Oh, Ms. Hollywood, uh," Mr. Hendrick's voice from the other end of the line sounded a bit hesitant but carried a hint of confidence.

"That's not my name," Dana interjected immediately and impulsively. "Anyways, Mr. Hendrick, I heard you're a director."

Clearing his throat, Mr. Hendrick spoke, "I'm about to retire, and when I do, I plan on opening my own record label."

Before Mr. Hendrick could finish his response, Dana interrupted, "Yeah, yeah, yeah, make me your artist," she said bluntly, as if requesting a candy placed in front of her.

Cassidy, who was observing Dana, looked shocked, her mouth hanging open. This wasn't the same quiet, introverted Dana she knew. Something had changed.

"Uh?" was all Dana could hear from Mr. Hendricks on the other end of the line. He was gobsmacked, shocked.

But that wasn't Dana's concern actually. She spoke up confidently, "Yeah, if you don't sign me as your artist, I'll tell the world how you hit me with your car and then dumped me in a hospital. You know that would be bad for a director's reputation and the entertainment industry, right?"

Dana was ready to threaten him with revealing their past encounter if he didn't give her the job she wanted. That was how the entertainment circle worked and Vance knew this so well.

Mr. Hendrick stuttered, "But...but you said...you said you jumped in front of my car. I didn't hit you!" He felt flustered and confused. Was he being duped?

Without giving Mr. Hendrick a chance to reply, Dana yelled, "You hit me! I'm talking about the day you hit me. Don't you remember?" Her voice was rising in pretense anger.

Mr. Hendrick was now astonished from the events of the call. First, the innocent-looking girl had turned out to be cunning and calculating. Second, he had just agreed to sign her as an artist for his company. That was a risk but he knew that he couldn't afford to be involved in any sort of scandal.

"Okay," he replied, clearing his throat, "So, on Monday, come to my office. I'll send you the address, and you can sign the papers to become my official artist."

Nah, Dana wasn't satisfied. She jumped on the bed, while Cassidy watched, astonished by her behavior. "No!" Dana exclaimed. "Let's do it now, online and via social media." Not giving Mr. Hendrick time to respond, Dana threatened, "Bestie, go get the press. Let's report this man."

Immediately, Mr. Hendrick said, "Okay, okay. Tanya, get some documents ready virtually and send them to this email address. Just hold on, Miss Hollywood." Then he remembered she had told him her name wasn't Hollywood. "Miss, what should I call you?" he asked.

"Dana Morgan," Dana replied, her tone slightly strange. It felt weird to Vance that instead of saying his casual Billy Vance when asked of his name, he was saying this.

Meanwhile, Cassidy was stunned by Dana's behavior. This wasn't the Dana she used to know; Dana was usually very shy, reserved. Not so blunt and devious. Like, how can she threaten a man to take her in as his artist? Even with her not so good abilities.

Dana received the contract from Mr. Hendrick, which she didn't go through carefully before signing it. She transferred it back to Mr. Hendrick, who responded simply with a single word, "Done." The deal was sealed.

"Wouldn't you congratulate me?" Dana asked coyly, teasing Mr Hendrick as she bore a mischievous grin on her face.

Mr. Hendrick, still sounding a bit restrained after the earlier threat, replied, "Congratulations, Ms. Morgan. You are officially my artist. Resume whenever you want to." With that, he abruptly ended the call, clearly not wanting to engage with her any further.

[Congratulations on passing the first mission! You have successfully become an artist under a director]

*****

Despite the air conditioning, the atmosphere inside the car was stifling. The driver felt a chill run down his spine, but he didn't dare turn his head to look left or right.

The man in the back seat sat with a detached expression on his face, his head propped in his hand, his eyes gazing down at the floor.

The driver's eyes darted from the road to the rearview mirror, anxiously waiting for the man to say something. The silence was disturbed only by the gentle hum of the air conditioning and his irregular breathing.

The car sat alone in the secluded corner of the airport, away from the hustle and bustle of the main terminal. The man in the back was a loner who liked his privacy. He didn't want to be around people or have any eyes on him.

Just as the silence was about to become unbearable to the driver, the car door swung open, and someone slipped into the backseat beside the quiet man.

As the person settled into the seat, the air in the car shifted, becoming charged with livelihood.

The silence was shattered completely when the person who stepped into the car greeted, "Good day, Mr. Lucky."

Mr. Lucky, the driver responded with a curt nod and a soft, "Oh, good day." He turned back to face the road, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel at the same time, trying to regain his composure after the uncomfortable silence in the car.

The person then turned to the man in the backseat and said, "So, Gray Junior, how does it feel to be back in the city of M? I thought you swore you'd never come back here." There was a teasing rhythm to his voice, a hint of mockery buried beneath his apparent curiosity.

Dorian looked up, raising his head from its hung low position to stare at the person who had spoken. There was only one person who could be so coy with him - Denver, his half-brother.

"I came here for a reason, don't act like you don't know," Dorian replied, his hoarse voice causing the driver to flinch.

How could a young, fine man have such a deep and devious voice?

Denver raised an eyebrow, feigning ignorance. "You mean, you didn't come back to see the throngs of adoring fans who had gathered at the airport to catch a glimpse of you?" he teased. "Pssh, more like the paparazzi who were being too intrusive. Instead you walked on like Queen Elsa in frozen, leaving an icy atmosphere to the people."

"Hush, Denver, hush!" Dorian growled, his patience wearing thin. All in all, attempting to restore the car to its previous quiet state.

However, Denver wouldn't let that happen. He wouldn't let the conversation die. "Mr. Lucky looks uncomfortable with your silence, Dorian," he persisted, his voice like a drop of water in a still pond.

Dorian glanced in the rearview mirror, hoping to catch a glimpse of the driver's reaction. "Hmm," he growled. His voice was low and raspy, like gravel underfoot.

The driver's face was blank, but he could tell the man was anxious. It was written in the way he held himself, the tension in his shoulders.

The driver sighed inwardly as Denver's words rolled off his tongue. 'Master Den wants to put me in trouble,' he battled inwardly, trying to hold back the sweat threatening to fall down his face. He masked his inner fear with a blank expression, hoping that young Master Gray would ignore Denver's words.

Denver, noticing that Mr. Lucky was hiding his expression for a reason he understood, decided to change the topic. "Ehem, Did you see the stuff that Morgana posted recently on Snapchat?" he asked, finding it a catchy topic.

Dorian didn't respond nonetheless. He wasn't concerned with whether or not his silence was bothering anyone. He wouldn't also care, if his silence was to kill someone. If he wanted silence, he was going to get it, no matter what - whether by coaxing or coercion.