Chapter 165

"Congratulations on your win, Nicole."

"Thanks, Robert."

As Nicole Kidman walked onto the stage, she embraced Roberto Benigni and took hold of the golden statuette.

Before she could speak, tears welled up in her eyes.

The audience erupted into a round of encouraging applause.

After all, she's a professional actress, and Nicole quickly regained her composure. With a smile, she began to thank those who supported her.

At the end of her speech, she added, "I would also like to thank one very special person, without whose help there would be no Best Actress in a Leading Role—Nicole Kidman."

Tom Cruise, sitting in the audience, puffed up his chest and prepared to rise to his feet. Cameras zoomed in on him.

Everyone expected that the one person Nicole would single out to thank would be Tom Cruise, her ex-husband.

However, to everyone's shock, Nicole continued with, "That's Martin Meyers, thank you for everything he's done for me."

She raised the statuette high as the crowd fell silent. Some assumed her "thank you" referred to the support from "Meyers Films," helping with her public relations campaign. No one thought too much of it—especially Tom Cruise, who was initially unaware of the depth of her gratitude toward Martin.

But Tom's displeasure was obvious. His eyes shot daggers at Martin, who was standing nearby, smiling and applauding.

After the Oscars, Martin flew straight to New York for a three-day book signing event at Times Square.

The plane touched down smoothly at New York's John F. Kennedy Airport. Martin stepped out of the VIP terminal, his hands casually in his pockets, two tall bodyguards following behind. They helped clear a path as they moved swiftly through the crowd.

As he exited the terminal, dozens of reporters swarmed around him like flies to a light.

"Martin, why didn't you hold a book signing when the book was first released? Is it because you're confident about the sales of your new book?"

"Martin, will the simultaneous release of your 'Harry Potter' and 'Twilight' series affect sales?"

"Martin, why did Nicole thank you alone at the Oscars?"

The questions came fast and furious. But Martin, with the help of his bodyguards and airport security, swiftly made his way through the press without answering any of them.

Random House had planned the event meticulously—choosing the Waldorf Astoria Hotel, just a short walk from Times Square, for Martin's stay.

Outside, a crowd of well-informed fans had gathered, waving posters and chanting his name. They even broke into a spontaneous chorus in his honor.

Martin gazed down from his suite at the exuberant crowd below, amused. "These fans are crazy," he thought, chuckling to himself. "But I love it."

The more fervent the fans, the stronger their desires, and the more power they seemed to bestow upon him.

So, Martin opened his window and waved to the adoring crowd below. His face was clearly visible, and the reaction was immediate—screams of joy that filled the air like an air raid siren.

Later that evening, as Martin prepared to rest, there was a knock at the door.

When he opened it, he was taken aback to see Paris Hilton standing there, flashing him a mischievous smile.

"Paris, what are you doing here?"

"The Waldorf Astoria is my second home," she replied with a playful wink. "I have a room here on the 9th floor. Care to come up? It's private."

She pressed her hand against his chest, lightly tracing her fingers over it.

Martin couldn't help but notice how easily she seemed to seduce people. It was a dangerous game, but one she played with expertise.

Glancing around the hallway, Martin pointed at a nearby security camera and said, "I'd rather not be photographed."

"It's no problem," Paris said with a sly smile. She took out her phone and made a quick call. Within moments, the red light on the surveillance camera blinked off.

"Let's go!" she said, beckoning him with a coy smile and tugging gently at his tie as she led him out of the room.

In the hotel's surveillance room, a staff member looked up in confusion. "Whose number was that? How did she get the code to turn off the cameras from the first floor to the ninth?"

The head of security sighed. "That's our 'little princess.' Who knows what she's up to now? Probably throwing another private party, maybe with a few more celebrities."

A staff member, curious, asked, "Do you think if we secretly turned the cameras back on, she'd notice?"

The head of security's expression darkened. "Don't even think about it. You want to lose your job?"

As they entered the elevator to the ninth floor, Paris grinned. "I had the cameras turned off from the first floor to the ninth. That way, no one will get suspicious. Clever, huh?"

Martin, amused, complied and complimented her on her resourcefulness.

When the elevator doors opened again, Paris's lips were swollen, a sign of what had just transpired.

On the ninth floor, the only rooms were large suites, and tonight, the entire floor was empty except for the two of them.

Paris rolled her eyes, her gaze flickering with mischief. "Maybe we should change locations," she suggested. "No cameras here."

Martin glanced at the darkened surveillance camera, his magic subtly affecting the lens. Even if it was turned on, all it would see would be pitch black.

He pulled her toward him, lifting her in his arms as she wrapped her legs around him. He pressed her firmly against the wall, kissing her fiercely.

Paris felt a surge of excitement, her blood racing. Her body responded as the intensity grew.

There was a tearing sound as their clothes shifted, followed by Paris's sharp gasp.

Later that night, Paris had a strange dream.

In it, she and Martin were trapped in a dark, shrinking space. As the walls closed in on them, Martin morphed into a devil with horns and a tail, yet his strength and beauty remained.

The space grew smaller, suffocating her. Her breath became ragged as she trembled, struggling to breathe.

Just when she thought she might suffocate, Martin's form expanded, shattering the confines of the space. He swept her up and flew into the night sky, the rain pouring down.

They soared higher and higher, with Paris clinging to him, torn between fear and exhilaration. Eventually, the rain lightened, and they entered the soft embrace of the clouds.

But Martin continued to climb higher, and her anxiety returned. She grabbed at his back, terrified they might fall.

But Martin, an unstoppable force, carried her through the sky, and the sensation of his magic, his power, overwhelmed her.

Finally, they reached heaven—an impossible place for a devil—but there they were. Surrounded by angels, Martin consumed everything around them, sealing their fate.

It was, without a doubt, a strange dream.

[•———•——•———•]

𝙥𝗮𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙤𝙣(.)𝙘𝙤𝙢/𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙊𝙛𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧