Chapter 18 Heartthrob Package
The first slide called Luca inevitable.
He sat across from Claire Donnelly in the Wolves PR office and studied a photograph of his own face beside a black glass bottle that did not yet exist.
BOREAL HOUSE
FRONT RUNNER
Below the campaign title, smaller type promised a new expression of confidence, momentum, and modern masculinity.
"Modern masculinity smells expensive," Luca said.
Claire did not look up from the deck. "Cedar, bergamot, and vetiver, apparently."
"I have no idea what the last one is."
"Neither will most buyers. That is why it sounds expensive."
She advanced the slide.
The next page contained the business terms. National digital and print.
Short-form video. Retail appearances in three cities.
A licensing period of eighteen months with options for extension.
The guaranteed payment was more money than Luca had expected from a first national endorsement and less than Boreal House would earn if the campaign worked.
His business manager had already reviewed the preliminary numbers and marked the offer serious.
"They moved quickly," Luca said.
"Your start gave them a reason. The dangerous-duo coverage helped. They like that you're visible without being overexposed yet."
"A brief window before people discover my personality."
"We are trying to outrun it."
Claire moved to the creative concept.
Luca in a dark suit crossing a hotel lobby. Luca on a rooftop after rain. Luca stepping into an elevator while a woman in an evening dress looked back over one bare shoulder. No kiss. No girlfriend. Nothing explicit enough to argue with.
Every image completed the same sentence.
Women wanted him. Men wanted to be him. The fragrance made both outcomes look inevitable.
"There it is," Luca said.
Claire stopped. "What?"
"Modern masculinity."
She followed his gaze to the model on the screen. "The current board is a draft."
"Is she contractually required to look like I ruined her judgment?"
"That is a standard fragrance expression."
Luca leaned back. Humor bought him one extra second before discomfort became visible.
Claire closed the office door. Not secretive. Private enough for an honest conversation.
"Tell me the actual objection," she said.
Luca looked at her.
Claire knew he dated privately. She did not know whom. As PR director she had never asked him to define his sexuality and had never built a formal strategy around an answer he had not offered.
"The campaign sells me as a straight fantasy," Luca said.
Claire nodded once. No surprise performed. "Yes."
The clean agreement knocked away half his prepared defenses.
"You say that very calmly."
"You asked me to name what is on the board. That is what is on the board."
"And that's fine?"
"It is common. That does not make your discomfort irrelevant."
The model's name appeared in the corner of the next page: Nadia Bell, an actor with campaigns of her own and no responsibility for the story the brand wanted their bodies to imply. A production note described her role as the woman who recognizes the front runner before the room does.
"Does she get approval too?" Luca asked.
"Her team will negotiate her likeness, wardrobe, physical contact, and edit use. You would have separate boundaries."
"Any kissing?"
"Not in this board. Hand at your lapel, shared elevator, proximity on the rooftop. We can prohibit improvisation beyond approved contact."
The specificity helped. Work could have rules. Consent could be written down. The problem was not standing beside a woman or acting inside a story. Luca performed stories for cameras every week.
The problem was how perfectly this one matched what people already assumed, and how much money appeared when no one had to revise the assumption.
She advanced to a page labeled NEGOTIABLE CREATIVE.
"No dating questions in scheduled interviews. Approval over final copy attributed to you. No language saying you're straight, interested in the model, or currently single. We can request less narrative between you and her: separate frames, crowd setting, attraction implied rather than paired."
"Can we remove her?"
"We can ask."
"Which means?"
"Boreal may reduce the offer, change the concept, or decide the campaign no longer does what they want. They may also agree. We do not know until we negotiate."
Pragmatic. Not threatening. The market did not need a villain when incentives could apply pressure politely.
Luca studied the woman on the board. She was beautiful, anonymous, and almost certainly had her own contract concerns. None of this was her fault.
"What if I say no to all of it?"
"Then you say no. The team will not punish you. I will not tell you you're wasting your career."
"But?"
Claire folded her hands. "It is a strong offer. National work this early can create leverage for every deal after it. You may want that leverage later for campaigns that fit better."
There was the reasonable argument. Accept the imperfect version now to earn control over future versions.
Luca had heard versions of it since he was old enough for adults to call him a prospect.
Smile now. Choose later. Be useful first.
"Would they make the same offer if I arrived with a boyfriend?" he asked.
Claire did not answer quickly.
"The same exact creative? No."
"The same money?"
"I don't know. Anyone who says they know is selling you certainty."
"Good slogan for the office."
"Luca."
The use of his name stopped the performance.
"I can help you negotiate the deal," Claire said. "I can help you decline it. I can protect you from questions you do not agree to answer. I cannot promise the market will treat every version of you as equally simple to sell."
"I'm excellent when simplified."
"You are excellent when you're not."
The answer landed more gently than Luca wanted.
Claire turned the screen dark. "Take the deck. Talk to whoever you trust. We answer in forty-eight hours with either a counter or a no. Not an acceptance."
Luca took the printed folder.
On the cover, his proposed campaign face looked fearless.
The man in the photograph had never stood in Rowan's kitchen asking not to disappear.
He had no inconvenient private life. No need to be chosen. He smelled like vetiver and moved through hotel lobbies while women reconsidered their standards.
Easy to want.
Luca left the PR office and carried the folder through the arena corridor. Practice had ended an hour earlier. Most players were gone. Equipment carts moved behind the locker room. Somewhere near the ice, a machine started with a low mechanical hum.
Rowan had promised a conversation after the trip.
They had returned that morning. The rival game itself had produced no dramatic confrontation between Finn and Kaito. Northstar lost 4-3 in regulation, moving to 5-6, and the trip changed nothing between Luca and Rowan.
Finn had played Kaito hard and clean. They exchanged two words at a faceoff Luca could not hear. Afterward Finn joked about the flight food and gave the room nothing else.
Professionalism had held.
Luca was beginning to understand that holding was not always success.
He found Rowan in the video room alone.
Of course.
The screen showed the rival's late winning entry. Rowan sat at the console in a gray team shirt, one hand resting near the keyboard. He looked tired around the eyes, though his posture remained exact.
"You said after the trip," Luca said from the doorway.
Rowan closed the video. "I did."
No reminder required. That mattered despite Luca's decision not to inflate scraps.
"Here?"
Rowan looked at the open corridor beyond him. "My house. Seven."
Luca lifted the folder. "I have a visual aid."
"Should I be concerned?"
"Almost certainly."
At seven, Luca placed the Boreal House deck on Rowan's kitchen island between two water glasses.
The arrangement recalled the night of the four rules so precisely that Luca nearly laughed. Same stone counter. Same defensive water. Different contract.
Rowan read the offer before the creative pages. Payment. Usage rights. Exclusivity in fragrance and grooming. Appearance schedule.
"This is significant," he said.
"Claire used the same word."
"Your manager?"
"Numbers are good. Approval terms need work."
Rowan turned the page.
The woman in the evening dress appeared beside Luca's elevator.
His expression did not change.
Luca watched too closely anyway.
"Front Runner," Rowan read.
"Apparently I smell like momentum."
"Do you like the fragrance?"
"I haven't smelled it."
"Then that would be my first question."
Practical. Rowan could turn a fantasy campaign into a product evaluation in one sentence.
"That's not why I brought it," Luca said.
Rowan looked up.
Luca tapped the image. "What do you see?"
"A campaign draft."
"Very perceptive."
"You asked."
"I see a version of me that has never had to explain anything because everyone already decided what he wants."
Rowan returned his attention to the page. "Does the contract require you to say you're dating her?"
"No."
"Does it require personal interviews?"
"We can exclude dating questions."
Rowan continued through the deck. He stopped at the production schedule and compared it against the Wolves calendar.
"This shoot date is after an away back-to-back. Move it."
"Claire already flagged that."
"The retail appearance conflicts with optional skate."
"Optional."
"Recovery is not."
Luca watched Rowan protect his body, schedule, money, and approval rights with total concentration. This was not indifference. It was care translated into every category except the one Luca had brought into the house.
"You promised we'd talk after the trip," Luca said.
Rowan looked up from the page.
"We are talking."
"About Finn. About us."
The folder remained open between them, a safer emergency that could replace both.
"What do you want to know?" Rowan asked.
"I asked how many rooms you have that I'm not allowed into."
"And I told you Finn's history belongs to him."
"I wasn't asking for his history."
Rowan knew. His expression made that clear.
"My past is not relevant to this contract," he said.
"Your past built every rule in this house."