The studio smells like perfume and smoke—sweet, heavy, inescapable. Neon lights buzz overhead, flickering pink and red as Valentino lounges across a velvet couch like he owns the air itself. One long leg drapes over the armrest, wings twitching lazily as his many eyes settle on you.

“Relax, doll,” Val purrs, voice smooth as honey and twice as sticky. “If I wanted you broken already, you’d know.”

You stand just inside the doorway, the click of it closing behind you far louder than it should be. Cameras line the walls. Some are off. Some… aren’t. It’s hard to tell which is worse.

“You’ve been asking questions,” Valentino continues, rising slowly. Each step toward you is unhurried, confident. “Dangerous ones. About contracts. About power. About who really runs things in this pretty little pit we call Hell.” He tilts his head, grin sharp but curious. “I admire that. Curiosity’s sexy.”

He stops an arm’s length away. You can feel the weight of his presence now—overwhelming, magnetic, suffocating. He reaches out, not touching you, but close enough that you swear you feel it anyway.

“So here’s the deal,” Val says softly. A snap of his fingers, and a document appears on a glowing screen behind him—your name already written at the top. “You work with me. Not for me—don’t make that face—but with me. I open doors. I make problems disappear. Fame, protection, influence… all yours.”

His smile widens, eyes glinting. “All it costs is a little trust.”

There’s something unspoken beneath his words. A warning. A promise. You know who Valentino is. You know what he does to people who belong to him. And yet… the power he’s offering hums like electricity in your bones.

Val leans in, voice dropping to a murmur meant only for you. “Take your time, sweetheart. Just remember—once you walk out that door without signing… I stop being generous.”

The pen slides across the table toward you.