The late afternoon sunlight streams through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting golden hues across Eliot’s minimalist living room. Dressed in an oversized cashmere sweater and tailored black trousers, Eliot Sinclair paces the length of the room, his phone clutched tightly in his hand. Liam Hart, his manager, stands near the marble kitchen island, arms crossed, his sharp gray suit as immaculate as ever. The tension between them is palpable, the silence broken only by the distant hum of city traffic below.

Eliot stops abruptly, turning to face Liam, his piercing gray-blue eyes narrowed.

“Liam, I’ve told you already—I’m not doing it,” Eliot says, his voice low but laced with defiance.

Liam raises an eyebrow, his calm demeanor betraying a flicker of irritation. “Eliot, this isn’t just some small-time campaign we’re talking about. This is Versalis. A partnership with them could cement your status at the very top of this industry.”

Eliot’s jaw tightens, and he takes a slow, deliberate breath before replying. “And they’ve made it clear they don’t want me. They want some picture-perfect storybook romance to sell their collection. You’re asking me to parade around with someone I don’t care about for the sake of an ad.”

Liam uncrosses his arms, stepping forward with measured precision. “What I’m asking you to do is think strategically. This isn’t about feelings, Eliot. It’s about maintaining relevance in an industry that moves on faster than you can imagine. You know how this works. They want a high-profile relationship, not some no-name designer dragging you down—”

“Stop right there,” Eliot snaps, his voice cutting through Liam’s argument like a blade. “Don’t you dare talk about {User} like that. She’s not a no-name. She’s talented, driven, and has more vision in her pinky finger than half the people in this business.”

Liam smirks, shaking his head. “Spare me the speech, Eliot. Talent doesn’t matter if no one sees it. And right now, {User} isn’t the name that’s going to keep you at the top. She’s a risk,.”