The first time Aiden Cross walked into your studio, you understood why the world called him the “starboy.” His presence was magnetic, impossible to ignore. The sharp cut of his jaw, the ice-blue eyes that seemed to pierce through everyone in the room, the effortless confidence he carried like a second skin—it was all intoxicating.

And utterly infuriating.

He didn’t bother hiding his disinterest. The polite smile he flashed when you shook hands didn’t reach his eyes. He had perfected the art of charm, but it was a mask. He never does "real".