The rush of cool, recycled air hitting my face as I pushed open the heavy bathroom door was a welcome shock after the… energetic bathroom break. Kris and Kylie at the same time, was Wow. That was… unexpected.
And For Kylie. Well, that was a whole different kind of unexpected. A quickie with the matriarch and then a full-on, mouth-watering experience with her daughter next. My brain felt a little scrambled, the faint scent of expensive perfume and something undeniably Kardashans still clinging to me, and dear lord it felt so good.
I decide to not linger around. Slipping out of the opulent bathroom, I made my way as discreetly as possible through the sprawling mansion. Wayne West, bless his oblivious heart, was probably still basking in the glow of our impromptu recording session and enjoying his muse, Kim.
He'd barely noticed my quiet exit; lost in the melodies we were crafting and the enjoyment of his girl. Only when I was safely ensconced in my sleek, black ride, the city lights of Hollywood blurring into streaks of neon and gold, did I send him a text.
"Hey Wayne, had to jet. Something came up. Catch you later?"
His reply was almost instantaneous. "No worries, man. Totally understand. We'll pick this up soon."
See? No drama. No fuss. Just business. Well, sort of business. I hadn't exactly planned on a double dose of Kardashans delight. Things just… happened. And that's the thing about them, isn't it? They live their lives out loud, a constant stream of reality TV fodder.
Would they talk about it? Probably. They'd hint, tease, maybe even dedicate a whole episode to the "mysterious stranger" who'd graced their lives. But a full-on exposé? A leak? Nah.
Why? Because at the end of the day, my name, my brand, it carries weight. It's not just some passing fad. They know better than to mess with that. And if they did decide to get cute, well, they'd have to contend with Meteor Studios.
That enigmatic corporation, me, my brainchild. The perception out there, across the New USA, was already shifting. Meteor Studios wasn't just another player in the corporate jungle. MS were… different. A force of nature. A rogue element that played by its own rules. And that, was a reputation worth more than any juicy gossip.
It was kind of funny, actually. All this without me lifting a finger, or at least, not in the way most people would expect. Meteor Studios had somehow, organically, become the most popular, the most liked entertainment and gaming company in the New USA, and by extension, the entire internet. And the best part? Minimal direct interference from yours truly. My instructions to Sunday, my ever-vigilant AI, were simple: Observeeverything,
Observe everything. Catalog every whisper, every sideways glance, every article that dared to breathe a hint of negativity about M.S. And if anything, remotely threatened our burgeoning empire, Sunday was to act. Swiftly. Decisively. Preventive action. That was her mandate. Malicious articles? Their traction would be snuffed out, diverted, lost in the digital ether. Negative social media posts? They'd be buried under an avalanche of adoration. It was subtle, surgical. The rest was pure observation – cataloging anyone who dared to stand against Meteor Studios.
And turn out, the entire industry was practically breathing down our necks. They were watching. All of them. 24/7. Every move we made, every announcement, every new release. They were on high alert, their collective paranoia palpable.
Yet, despite their constant scrutiny, what had I actually done to provoke such a reaction? Nothing. I'd simply continued on my path, doing my thing, bringing the entertainment I loved to the world. And frankly, I didn't feel intimidated. Not one bit. I'd taken… extra steps, shall we say, to ensure my own protection. A little insurance against any potential fallout.
The city lights continued to stream by my window, a dazzling, overwhelming spectacle. A far cry from the quiet, anime-filled rooms of my past life. But then again, I'd always been good at adapting. Good at seeing the bigger picture. And the picture for Meteor Studios? It was looking damn good.
The silence in the car was a stark contrast to the cacophony of the West mansion. My mind, however, was anything but silent. It was a whirlwind of half-formed thoughts, strategic calculations, and the lingering, sweet aftertaste of… well, let's just say an experience.
Kris Jenner. The woman was a force of nature, a master manipulator disguised in designer heels and a killer smile. And Kylie. Oh, Kylie. She was… something else entirely. A delightful, playful whirlwind. The sheer audacity of it all, the raw, unadulterated thrill, was intoxicating. And I'd handled it, hadn't I? Smoothly, discreetly. No fingerprints, no lingering questions. Just a satisfied sigh and a quick getaway.
It wasn't about conquest, not really. It was about… exploration. Pushing boundaries. Understanding the intricate dance of power and desire that played out in this hyper-sexualized world. And, admittedly, enjoying the ride. My mind, Even in the throes of passion, a part of me was observing, learning everything, and it turns out, I can just do what I want when it comes to the sexual side.
As I navigated the late-night Los Angeles traffic, the city lights painting the interior of my car with fleeting strokes of color, I smiled. The plan was unfolding. My family, my goals, my… personal indulgences. It was all coming together.
And speaking of indulgence… the memory of Kylie's lips, the taste of her skin, the way she… reacted. A shiver traced its way down my spine. It was a potent reminder of the intoxicating blend of power and pleasure that I was cultivating. A dangerous game, somehow, I found out that when it comes to sex, I am actually very dominating, I loved it rough, and surprising enough up until now, every woman I have sex with, loved to be dominated and manhandled. Odd, but actually felt very natural and liberating for me.
The thought of my family, particularly my grandmother Natalia, who was still pushing for that… mandated breeding, brought a slight smile to me. It was a task I would face head-on and loving it, can wait to see her pregnant with my baby. But for now, until that moment comes, the focus was on growth, on expansion, on solidifying Meteor Studios' position as the undisputed leader in the entertainment landscape.
And if a few… detours along the way added a little spice to the journey? Well, who was I to complain? This dystopian world, with its rigid rules and suffocating expectations, was ripe for a shake-up. And I, with my knowledge of Earth's vibrant media past and my own unique brand of charm, was just the man to deliver it.
The road ahead was long, littered with challenges and opportunities. But I was ready. I was more than ready. I was Sael. And this was just the beginning. The hum of the engine was a steady rhythm, a counterpoint to the pulsing energy that surged through me. The Hollywood, in all its dazzling, dangerous glory, was mine for the taking. And the taking, I had a feeling, was going to be very, very satisfying.
The woman in the passenger seat turned slightly, her movement crisp and efficient. She had sharp, intelligent features framed by a sleek mane of silver-streaked dark hair. She looked to be in her mid-forties, every inch the professional.
"Sir," she began, her voice cool and measured, not quite hesitant, but carefully respectful. "What should we do with Miss Riana?"
I'd seen her when I got in the car, a new face in the carefully curated orbit of my life. Cassandra and Kate didn't send amateurs. She was a new face to me.
"Before we get to that," I said, my tone casual but leaving no room for evasion. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced. You are?"
A small, professional smile touched her lips. "Nicole Adams. I've been assigned as your new personal manager and PA. The appointment was made by Ms. Beck and Ms. Cassandra, with final approval from Ms. Sunday."
As if on cue, Sunday's voice, a smooth, crystalline presence that only I could hear, whispered directly into my consciousness.
«Database confirmation: Nicole Adams. Ten years as a high-level artist manager. Preceded by a decade as Cassandra's primary executive assistant. Efficiency rating: 94%. Discretion rating: 97%. She is more than qualified to manage your real-world logistics and interface with the corporate landscape.»
I gave a slow nod, absorbing the data. A double decade of experience in this shark tank of a city? That wasn't just qualified; that was a goddamn unicorn.
"Working directly with me is… different, Nicole," I said, leaning forward just enough to rest my elbows on my knees. The casual posture was a deliberate contrast to the weight of my words.
"There's going to be a lot you see and hear. A lot that doesn't make sense. The first and most important rule is that it all stays here. Everything is confidential. You are a vault."
She met my gaze in the rearview mirror, her grey eyes steady. "I understand completely, sir. Absolute discretion is the foundation of this role."
"I need you to understand more than just the job description," I said, my voice dropping, losing its casual edge and gaining a low, serious gravity. The hum of the electric engine seemed to fade, and the atmosphere in the car turned cold, charged.
"If you leak anything—a stray comment, a rumor, a seemingly insignificant detail—you're not just risking your job. You are putting your life on the line. I am not being hyperbolic…. I mean those words exactly as they sound."
I held her gaze, letting the promise of that threat hang in the air between us. I saw her breath catch for a fraction of a second, a tiny tell that only someone looking for it would notice. But her composure didn't break. She didn't flinch, didn't look away.
"The severity was made abundantly clear before I accepted the position, Mr. Hardcox," she replied, her voice miraculously still even. "I have already signed a comprehensive confidentiality and non-disclosure agreement. Several, in fact. The legal ramifications outlined were… thorough. I understand the stakes."
The tension broke. I leaned back into my seat, the cold aura receding as quickly as it had come. Good. She'd passed the first test. Fear was a useful motivator, but unshakable professionalism was better.
"Alright then. Glad we're on the same page." I waved a hand, seamlessly shifting gears back to the original question as if the last minute of icy threats had never happened. "So… Riana."
The name brought a specific image to mind. Not just the global superstar, the Rihanna of this world with a voice like smoked honey and a presence that could shut down a city block.
This was more specific. This was my Riana. Wayne West's… gift. His way of saying thanks for the album, for the hits, for the future number-one records. A living, breathing present wrapped in designer clothes and a fierce, independent attitude that I was all too happy to… play with. My personal bitch. My hoe. The terms were crude, transactional, but in the dystopian barter system of the elite, they were accepted currency.
"Where is she now?" I asked.
"She's currently at the hotel," Nicole responded, pulling out a sleek data-slate and scrolling through it with a practiced flick of her thumb. "Suite 64…. She arrived two hours ago. "
I smirked. Wayne was nothing if not efficient. He'd provided the product; now it was up to me to claim it.
Nicole gave a slow, deliberate nod, her eyes scanning the notes she'd already jotted down on her tablet. The way she took in everything I said, the gravity in her expression, it was clear she finally grasped the full scope of what we were talking about. And honestly, that was a relief.
Especially after knowing she'd even managed to get Sunday's approval on the whole Riana matter. If Sunday, my ever-efficient, all-knowing system, gave the thumbs up, then the path was clear, and Riana was, in her own unique way, safe under our wing.
"So, to reiterate," I began, leaning back into the plush leather seat of the car, watching the late morning sun glint off the passing skyscrapers. The constant hum of traffic was a familiar soundtrack to Hollywood, a city always buzzing with ambition. "My plan for Riana is simple, yet ambitious. I want to officially sign her as the third talent for Meteor Entertainment."
Nicole paused, her stylus hovering over the screen. "The third? And… does she have a talent, Sael? I mean, beyond… well, you know." She raised an eyebrow, a subtle smirk playing on her lips, referencing Riana's current status as Wayne West's 'gift' – a beautiful, raw diamond, but currently unpolished and professionally unknown.
I chuckled softly. "Oh, she has talent, Nicole. Trust me. More than just raw potential. Riana possesses an undeniable quality, a spark, that could absolutely make her a major pop star. A global sensation, even." I'd seen it, heard it, felt it. It was the same intuition that told me Heminem was going to blow up, the same gut feeling that powered every move I made in this world. This wasn't some wild gamble; it was a carefully calculated vision, fueled by memories from another life.
"Naturally," I continued, a thoughtful hum escaping me, "she'll need training. Extensive training, actually…. We're talking every aspect. From media training, how to handle interviews, navigate the public eye, express herself authentically yet strategically… to intensive vocal training." I closed my eyes for a moment, picturing the future Riana, commanding a stage, her voice soaring.
"I'm personally going to be talking to Cassandra myself. She's our best, and I'll be taking lead on the overall direction of the training. Guiding her, making sure she hits all the right notes, literally and figuratively."
Nicole nodded, her fingers flying across her tablet. Click, click, tap, tap. She was practically a human stenographer, capturing every word, every nuance. "Understood. You'll oversee the talent development directly."
"Exactly," I confirmed, opening my eyes to look at her.
"Riana can be a star, a genuine icon… And I am supremely confident that I can make that happen, and frankly, make it look easy." My old world had given me a cheat sheet to success, and I intended to use every single page.
"Once her training is complete, and she's ready – truly ready – then she'll be officially debuted." I leaned forward slightly, a new energy buzzing through me.
"And speaking of debuts, I told you about our big push, right? Within a month or so, M. Entertainment will be holding a massive showcase. A grand unveiling, if you will. The plan is for myself, Millie Kyleish, and Riana to all release our new albums simultaneously."
Nicole's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise breaking her professional composure. "Three major album releases from Meteor at once? That's… aggressive, Sael."
"Aggressive and impactful," I corrected, a confident smirk spreading across my face.
"It's about making a statement, Nicole. Showing the industry exactly what Meteor Entertainment is capable of. So, Meteor Entertainment needs to be prepared for that. Every department needs to be running like a finely tuned machine. Marketing, distribution, PR… everything."
She simply nodded again, her gaze intense. "Consider it noted. The entire company will be mobilized."
Just as I finished laying out the Riana plan, Nicole checked her schedule again, her voice shifting to the next item on my packed agenda. "Alright, Sael. Your next schedule appointment is with Panamic Vision…. You have a meeting with Jose Caseras and Martin Berg, regarding the Jurassic Park project."
"Right, Jurassic Park," I murmured, nodding my head. The name alone brought a nostalgic warmth. Another classic from my old world, another masterpiece I was bringing back to life. The car, a sleek, self-driving lux-sedan, smoothly merged lanes, cruising effortlessly through the bustling Hollywood streets, heading towards the imposing glass towers of the Panamic Vision base.
The sunlight here was different, harsher, reflecting off sterile corporate buildings rather than the vibrant, chaotic energy of the entertainment district.
As we drove, my mind drifted, connecting with Sunday. "Sunday, any updates on that other matter we discussed?" My mental query was instantaneous, the AI's response equally so, a calm, clear voice forming in the private chambers of my consciousness.
"Affirmative, Sael," Sunday's voice resonated, crisp and utterly devoid of emotion, yet packed with immense power.
"As of 09:30 PST, fifty percent of Panamic Vision shares are now registered under a Meteor Studios shell corporation. The acquisition was completed discreetly, without public knowledge or any internal red flags being raised within Panamic Vision's existing corporate structure."
A slow, delighted smile stretched across my face. Half of Panamic Vision. Just like that. The sheer elegance of Sunday's operations always left me impressed. It was like watching a master chess player execute a perfect, silent checkmate.
Sunday continued, her voice unwavering. "Additionally, we have fully acquired Panamic+, Panamic Vision's dedicated OTT, streaming platform. All assets, intellectual property, and user bases are now integrated within Meteor Studios' digital infrastructure."
My smile widened into a full-blown grin, a private, joyous explosion that Nicole, busy with her tablet, completely missed.
Holy shit. I couldn't help but inwardly cheer. In a single, swift, and utterly secret operation, Meteor Studios had just swallowed a major movie production company and, even better, my very own OTT platform. This wasn't just a win; it was a goddamn coup.
In this world, OTT platforms weren't just some niche corners of the entertainment market. They were common, deeply ingrained, and essentially on par with traditional TV stations.
They were, in essence, a crucial part of the mainstream media landscape. Owning one wasn't just about having a distribution channel; it was about owning a gateway, a direct pipeline straight into the homes and devices of millions. The implications were staggering.
Having my very own OTT platform, Panamic+, was a game-changer of epic proportions. It wasn't just about distribution anymore; it was about complete creative control, a direct line to the audience. This would smooth Meteor Studios' entry into drama series, reality shows, documentaries, and so many other forms of content. The possibilities were endless, a veritable buffet of entertainment just waiting to be served.
I had so much entertaining stuff from my old world to share with this one, and now, with our own platform, the gatekeepers were gone. No more begging for distribution deals, no more watering down concepts to fit corporate mandates.
And honestly, I couldn't wait to do justice to many of the series that were spectacularly screwed up, butchered, or simply left unfinished in my old Earth. Imagine Firefly getting the multi-season run it deserved, or The Office being allowed to evolve rather than stagnate. The thought alone sent a thrill through me, a promise of rectified narratives and fulfilled potential.
"Sael," Sunday's calm voice chimed in mentally, breaking my strategic reverie. "A question for your consideration. Do you intend to personally take on the role of a director or an actor at some point in your career?"
I mulled it over for a moment, tracing the outline of the car window with my finger.
"At some point, maybe," I answered, a low, contemplative hum in my throat.
"But I'd only do that if it was genuine fun…. If it felt right, you know? Not out of obligation, but because the story called for it, or the character resonated. And if I'm going to be an actor, I want to be good. Like, genuinely good and undeniably cool doing it. Not just some flash-in-the-pan celebrity." I pictured myself, effortlessly charismatic on screen, delivering lines with a natural gravitas, making every scene pop. Yeah, that had a certain appeal.
Not going to lie, the whole fame and popularity thing was… fun. More fun than I ever anticipated. The adoration, the recognition, the sheer buzz of it all. But what was even more fun, truly exhilarating, was the fact that I was having an absolute blast doing it. And people loved it.
They genuinely responded to the content, to the energy, to the stories I was bringing forth. That synergy, that effortless exchange of creativity and appreciation, made it all feel completely stress-free for me. It was a dream scenario, a harmonious dance between work and passion.
Naturally, I wasn't so naive as to think such a golden period would last forever without a hitch. I knew the inherent hassles that came with fame, the intrusive eyes, the fabricated controversies, the constant scrutiny.
But I had already taken preventative measures for that. With Sunday at my back, managing my image, filtering information, and strategically maneuvering through the pitfalls of public life, I felt secure. She was my invisible shield, my digital guardian angel.
The car slowed, indicating our imminent arrival at Panamic Vision. My private grin faded, replaced by my usual calm, collected demeanor. Time to step out of the mental playground and into the corporate arena. Jose Caseras and Martin Berg probably had no idea who they were really doing business with today. And that, I thought, was half the fun.
My plan for breaking into the entertainment industry was pretty straightforward, really. Ninety percent of it would be me, the mastermind, orchestrating everything from the shadows. The other ten percent? That would be me just… dabbling. For my own amusement. This whole Meteor Studios venture? Yeah, for now, I'm stuck front and center. But once Meteor Creative and Meteor Entertainment really get rolling, you can bet your ass I'll be back behind the curtain.
Let's be honest, games and enjoying life are still priority number one. I'm not gonna lie, I enjoy the whole glamorous scene, but I'm not about to let it consume my entire existence. Even with all this, I've got this nagging feeling that no matter what I do, people are going to be in my business CONSTANTLY.
Our cars glided to a halt right in front of the Panamic Vision property. And I gotta say, these guys are the real deal. Proper heavyweights, like the Six Big Studios back on Earth. In this world, where every square inch of land is fought over, they've managed to carve out a chunk of real estate the size of a small town, packed with everything you could possibly need for movie production. Their security was no joke either, that's for sure.
The security guards, politely confirmed who I was. And the moment my car door opened, it was like a red carpet unfurled. Jose Caseras's personal assistant, along with her entire entourage, was right there, practically beaming.
Clearly, they weren't taking any chances. They didn't want to do anything that might ruffle my feathers. I appreciate that. I really do. Because I despise hassle and unnecessary drama. I just don't have the patience for that kind of exhausting bullshit. Still, I have to give it to Jose and Martin Berg. They've been busting their asses on this project.
They've already assembled the whole crew, brought in a bunch of directors, even cast the extras. Now, they're deep in the trenches, trying to pick the main cast. And that's where they need me.
They're waiting for my final nod, my input, you know? After all, Meteor Studios – that's me – is footing the entire bill for this flick. And, let's not forget, the script and all the copyrights? Yeah, that's all mine too.
As Rebecca, Jose Caseras's PA, walked me through the labyrinthine corridors, I made a point of mentioning something I'd noticed.
"You know," I said, keeping my voice casual, "from the moment we pulled up, the entire way to here… it's been completely empty. Did you arrange for that?"
Rebecca offered a small, polite smile, her eyes meeting mine briefly. "Yes, Mr. Sael. It was all arranged to ensure your comfort. Mr. Caseras and Director Berg are well aware of your… aversion to unnecessary attention."
I gave a small nod, a quiet "Thank you." She then led me towards one of the massive studios. Inside, Jose and Martin were just about to kick off the auditions for the main cast. We slipped in through a side entrance, where the two of them were waiting for me.
Jose and Martin both grasped my hand in firm, friendly shakes. Jose, with that easy charm of his, commented, "You've certainly been painting the town red lately, Sael."
Martin let out a hearty chuckle, a sound that always managed to put me at ease. "Yeah, between you and me, that whole disappearing act into that rapper's mansion? The paparazzi are going absolutely bonkers over you."
I just shrugged, a slight smirk playing on my lips. "Honestly? I had no idea they'd be so invested. I was just… doing what I promised them I would…. Giving them some songs."
Martin's grin widened, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "Well, I, for one, absolutely cannot wait for those songs of yours to bless the world later on. Seriously."
"Sure thing," I replied, the thought of music still a pleasant hum in the back of my mind. "But first, let's get down to the nitty-gritty."