Storm's Are Brewin'
Once they were out of earshot, Bailey leaned in close to Brandon, her eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Holy shit, B! That was amazing," she whispered, barely containing her enthusiasm.
"You totally owned that reporter. Did you see his face? Priceless!"
Brandon's lips quirked into a small, satisfied smirk.
"Thanks, no one can get away with a cheap shot on a Blackstone."
Elise, her arm still linked with Brandon's, gave it a gentle squeeze. Her voice was low and tinged with concern as she spoke.
"That reporter was obviously paid to stir up trouble," she murmured, her eyes darting back to the crowd they'd left behind.
"You need to be careful, Brandon. This is just the beginning. During the competition, they'll try anything to throw you off your game."
Brandon's expression softened as he turned to Elise. He placed his free hand over hers, his touch reassuring.
"Don't worry, Elise. I've got this," he said, his voice filled with quiet confidence.
"They can try all they want, but I'm not backing down. BMG is going to change everything, and no amount of dirty tricks is going to stop us."
Bailey nodded enthusiastically.
"Yeah, we've got your back! Let them try their worst."
Elise's worried frown eased slightly at their words.
"Just... be prepared for anything, okay? They're not going to play fair."
Brandon's eyes gleamed with determination.
"Neither am I. We're going to win this, and we're going to do it our way."
As Brandon, Elise, and Bailey made their way into the ballroom, Princess Eleanor Windsor stood just a few feet behind them on the red carpet.
Her eyes were wide with wonder, taking in the spectacle of flashing cameras and the sea of elegant gowns and tuxedos.
But it was Brandon's exchange with the reporter that truly captured her attention.
Eleanor's heart raced as she watched Brandon handle the provocative question with such poise and passion. His words echoed in her mind, stirring something deep within her.
'He's so... brave,' she thought, a faint blush creeping across her cheeks.
'I've never seen anyone stand up for themselves like that before.'
Eleanor found herself captivated by Brandon's confidence and charisma.
The way he carried himself, the fire in his eyes as he declared war against the status quo, even though she didn't yet understand it – it was all so different from the polite, restrained world she knew.
'Father dearest warned me that things are more complicated in the outside world,' she realized, her pulse quickening.
'But he's carving a new path. I wonder... could I…'
As Brandon disappeared into the ballroom with Elise and Bailey, Eleanor felt a pang of something unfamiliar.
Was it envy? Admiration? Or perhaps something more?
'I wish I could speak up like that,' she mused, smoothing her gown nervously.
'To have that kind of passion and purpose... it must be exhilarating.'
Eleanor took a deep breath, trying to compose herself as she prepared to face the cameras. But her thoughts kept drifting back to Brandon, to the electricity she'd felt in the air when he spoke.
From their vantage point inside the ballroom, Jong-kook, Catherine, and Darrel watched Brandon's exchange with the reporter through the floor-to-ceiling glass wall.
Though they couldn't hear the exact words, Brandon's confident body language and the crowd's reaction made it clear he had handled the situation with aplomb.
Jong-kook's bruised face twisted into a scowl.
"Damn it," he muttered, clenching his fist.
"That little punk was supposed to crumble under pressure."
Darrel, ever the opportunist, leaned in close.
"Don't worry, we can still salvage this. We'll just misquote him in post, twist his words. The public will eat it up."
Catherine rolled her eyes, barely concealing her disdain for both men.
Before she could respond, Catherine's assistant, Olivia, approached swiftly, leaning in to whisper urgently.
"Lady Vanderbilt, you need to hear this," Olivia said, her voice low and rapid.
"That reporter outside tried to corner Mr. Blackstone, pitting him against all the industry's stars and all their fans. But Mr.Blackstone... he turned it around completely."
Catherine raised an eyebrow, intrigued.
"Go on."
"He painted the industry as tyrants, Miss. Said they were oppressing our entire culture. And he... he positioned himself as some kind of savior for the masses. The press ate it up."
Catherine's eyes widened slightly, impressed despite herself. She glanced towards the entrance where Brandon had disappeared, a mix of emotions playing across her face.
'Damn,' she thought, suppressing a reluctant smile.
'He's good. Really good. Turning a potential PR disaster into a rallying cry... that's not just luck, that's skill.'
She sighed inwardly, feeling a twinge of regret.
'What a waste. In another world, we could have been allies. Maybe even...'
She cut that thought off abruptly, reminding herself of her family's expectations and alliances.
'It doesn't matter how impressive he is,'
Catherine told herself firmly.
'I have to be his enemy. For now, at least. But God, it would be so much easier if he was just another entitled rich kid.'
She turned back to Jong-kook and Darrel, her face a mask of cool indifference.
But inside, a part of her couldn't help but admire Brandon's audacity and quick thinking. It was going to make her job a lot more challenging – and, she had to admit, a lot more interesting.
She turned to Jong-kook and Darrel, her voice dripping with condescension.
"Gentlemen, it seems your little ploy has backfired spectacularly. Perhaps it's best we focus on the performances of our own artists in the competition that's about to start. After all, that is why we're here, isn't it?"
Without waiting for a response, Catherine turned on her heel and strode away, leaving Jong-kook and Darrel to stew in their failed scheme.
As Catherine's figure disappeared into the crowd, Jong-kook's face contorted with rage. He spat out a string of expletives, his eyes blazing with fury.
"That stuck-up bitch," he snarled, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his champagne flute.
"Who does she think she is, looking down on us like that?"
Darrel's demeanor shifted dramatically.
The jovial, slightly inebriated playboy persona melted away, replaced by something far darker. His eyes narrowed, a predatory gleam replacing the usual drunken haze.
"Don't worry about her," Darrel said, his voice low and menacing.
"I'll fuck that pride right out of her one day. She won't be so high and mighty when she's begging for more."
Jong-kook shot Darrel a warning glare.
"Keep your dick in your pants, Morgan. We've got bigger fish to fry. Remember why we're here."
Darrel's lips curled into a cruel smile.
"Oh, I remember. the Blackstone kid won't know what hit him."
Jong-kook nodded, a hint of satisfaction creeping into his expression.
"Good. Everything's set for the showcase?"
"All taken care of," Darrel replied, his voice dripping with malice.
"BMG's little star is in for quite a surprise."
The two men exchanged knowing looks, their earlier tension forgotten in the face of their shared plan.
*Clink~*
As they clinked their glasses together, the air around them seemed to darken with the weight of their sinister intentions.