Cesare's movements paused briefly. His eyes resembled the deep blue sea—even amidst turbulent waves, only slight ripples appeared on the surface. They fixed intently on Chen Zhen, as if searching for her weakness or confirming her sincerity.
After a moment, he spoke. "So your ambition is considerable."
Jenny shrugged. "You can laugh at me for dreaming all you want. Truth is, I don't even know how to achieve it yet. But it is my professional goal."
"Then you should know," Cesare said, "that climbing this peak will demand immense sacrifice. Maintaining strict dietary discipline through years of grueling work, watching me feast without asking for a share—your willpower is formidable, Miss Jefferson. But understand this: among Hollywood's A-list and B-list actresses, such resolve is far from rare. It barely qualifies as entry-level determination. "
He observed Jenny's expression as he spoke. "And even among those who succeed, none reach the heights you envision. Among them are prodigies blessed with talent, luck, and ambition. The summit you seek is so lofty that no one can tell you how to get there. This isn't a game where following the rules guarantees victory. There's a ninety percent chance you'll sacrifice everything for this goal only to fall short at the last moment—not even getting close to the trophy. Do you understand these risks?"
Jenny sighed. "I understand."
She showed a rare glimpse of genuine emotion. "But I must do it. I must give everything I have. If you fear I'm being naive or making empty promises, I can assure you, Mr. Vijay, I fully grasp how vast this dream is, how arduous the journey will be, how slim the odds of success, and how many sacrifices I'll face... But I've made up my mind. I cannot give up halfway."
She repeated, "I must strive toward this goal."
Cesare stared at her for over ten seconds.
"I believe you," he finally said, raising his glass to Jenny. "Now I can say with certainty that both of us are fortunate. I am the agent you were seeking, and you are the kind of client I was looking for."
Jenny clinked glasses with him. "Here's to a successful partnership."
"Here's to a successful partnership," Cesare replied, pulling a contract from his coat pocket and handing it to Jenny. "This is CAA's standard form. I've made some edits specific to your situation. The commission is 15%. That's what CAA charges regardless of status or experience. For a newcomer, it's incredibly generous. You have nothing to complain about. The term is five years, after which CAA holds the right of first refusal under equal terms."
He paused, fixing Jenny with a sharp look. "I'm making this clear upfront: if anyone at the company asks, you must say you insisted on a five-year term. And while the contract is for five years, our partnership isn't limited to that duration. Miss Jefferson, I hope you understand what I mean."
Jenny scanned the contract swiftly, her expression unreadable. "The contract states CAA has the right of first refusal to renew under equal terms after five years. I won't violate the contract."
"You won't violate the contract," Cesare replied with another perfunctory smile. "You're intelligent, Miss Jefferson. I enjoy working with intelligent people."
He continued, "Before we sign, there are a few unwritten points I want you to understand. First, as I mentioned, though the contract is for five years, our partnership is expected to be long-term. Given your goals, it could span ten to twenty years."
Jenny shrugged. "If I'm the client you want and you're the agent I want, then I'm fine with that."
"Excellent. Second, this is an unwritten rule within Hollywood circles," Cesare's tone shifted back to business-like form. "I oversee everything, Miss Jefferson—from the food you consume to the men you sleep with. If I say you can't fall in love, you can't fall in love. If I arrange who you sleep with, you sleep with them. If necessary, it extends to marriage and childbearing—who you marry, when you have children, how you have them—all under my control. If you have objections, voice them now."
"So you actually moonlight as a pimp sometimes?" Jenny countered, then clarified, "Fine, I don't mind if you forbid me from falling in love. If sleeping with someone is essential to saving my career, I can accept a short-term transactional arrangement. But outside of that specific exception, please exercise restraint when arranging such deals—consider them only as a last resort."
"Understood," Cesare replied. "To date, I've never arranged such work for any of my artists. Let's hope it remains that way."
He took a sip of his drink, his gaze fixed intently on Jenny. "Third rule: you must obey, Miss Jefferson. You must obey. You want money? Under my arrangements, you'll be very wealthy. You want power? You'll have it. You want to achieve your goals? That's excellent, because creating a star who transcends legend is also my goal. Miss Jefferson, you must believe our interests are completely aligned. Everything I do is for your benefit. So you must be very obedient."
"No problem," Jenny said. "As long as you explain clearly, I'll cooperate. Do I look like someone who acts on impulse?"
Cesare shook his head. "You don't, but people change."
He pulled out a voice recorder and placed it on the table. "Before signing, please state your goals and these three agreements into the recorder."
Jenny glared at him, giving him a look that said Why be so serious? Cesare remained completely unmoved, gesturing toward the recorder.
Jenny picked up the recorder with a sigh, repeating her goals, her resolve, the three agreements, and her promise to abide by them. Cesare watched her intently throughout her speech.
"Okay." After Jenny signed, he said, raising his glass again. "Don't return the contract to me. Have a lawyer review it. If you trust me, I can recommend one. If you don't, find your own. Only give it back to me once you're satisfied. I'll get it stamped by the company. — Congratulations on our official partnership."
The contract wasn't legally binding yet; Jenny could tear it up on a whim. But she understood Cesare wasn't talking about the paper agreement. His partnership transcended contracts. By clinking glasses with him, even without formal papers, she tacitly acknowledged their collaboration—and his authority over her career.
Once the glasses touched, the relationship was sealed. Neither could turn back.
Jenny raised her glass and gave it a light tap against his. The two glasses clinked with a crisp sound.
"Congratulations on our formal partnership," she said.
Cesare flashed a business-like smile. "Now, let's begin enjoying the meal. If you don't mind, I'd love to hear about your upbringing. You're quite adept at formal dining etiquette—something one wouldn't expect given your family background."
Chen Zhen had told him Jenny had always been a girl eager to climb the social ladder, fascinated by upper-class life—so much so that she even knew Cesare was a common Italian name and Vigieri a French noble surname. "Yes. "Cesare said. "My stepfather was French, so I took his surname. As for my first name, my father was indeed of German descent, but he was also a fervent admirer of Cesare Borgia."
"Nihil for Caesar?" Jenny blurted out reflexively. (Both Caesar and Cesare are transliterations of the same name.)
"Your history knowledge is impressive," Cesare raised an eyebrow.
That was because she'd watched The Borgias... Jenny chuckled awkwardly and remarked, "Actually, you do resemble him quite a bit. Is Machiavelli's The Prince your guidebook for life?"
"Oh, don't tell me you've read The Prince," Cesare said. "Even without that, your general knowledge is already excessively broad. I'm starting to wonder how you managed to fail your SATs."
Surprisingly, chatting with Cesare wasn't such a chore. As long as she could keep up with his train of thought, he proved quite an interesting conversationalist—and Chen Zhen was certainly no fool. They happily polished off the remaining meal, Jenny even forgetting how ravenous her stomach had been. After finishing the salad, they polished off nearly half a bottle of red wine.
"I have a question for you." " Jenny said as dinner drew to a close.
"Go ahead." Cesare sipped his wine, appearing slightly more relaxed than before, his shoulders imperceptibly softer.
"If I told you earlier that my goal is to become wealthy, to escape poverty, would you still value me this much?" Jenny asked. "Would you still agree to a long-term partnership with me?"
Cesare shook his head. "I'd value you, but you wouldn't be my top client. Maybe third priority, but not first."
"That confirms my suspicion. My sense is you've been searching for someone who wants to reach the pinnacle—someone you can personally craft into a Hollywood legend." "Jenny was genuinely curious. "Wanting to be a Hollywood legend isn't hard to understand. I'm certainly not the only one in the world who thinks that way. Becoming a legend means fame and fortune. But you're an agent. For you, it might be more beneficial to represent several highly successful actors simultaneously. You know what I mean. After all, you only arranged a five-year contract with CAA for me."
She took a generous swig of her drink, tilting her head curiously to study Cesare. "Being the agent of a megastar might actually hinder your goals. Yet you still want to be the agent who creates legends. Why?"
"Why do humans explore space? Dive to the ocean depths?" Cesare countered. "Why climb Everest? Why chase Guinness records?"
His eyes burned blue like flames fueled by hydrogen. "No reason. Just because space is there. The ocean is there."
Cesare sipped his drink lightly, his tone casual. "Legends are there. Waiting to be conquered."