Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Grace
I followed Dominic into the high-rise office building, my patience already thinning.
The record label’s headquarters screamed money—pristine glass walls, modern furniture, and staff who moved with the efficiency of people who knew they were handling millions in revenue every day.
Everything about it was polished, professional, and completely detached from the artistic world it supposedly represented.
"Tell me again why I’m here," I muttered as we stepped into a private elevator.
Dominic smirked, adjusting the cuffs of his tailored suit. "Because I like having you around."
I shot him a warning look. "Try again."
"Because you’re my security detail," he said easily. "And I have a meeting with Theo."
The elevator doors opened to an executive floor with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.
Inside a sleek conference room, Theo Martinez was already seated at the head of a long table, flipping through a thick stack of papers.
Unlike Riley, who thrived in the spotlight, Theo carried himself with quiet authority.
He didn’t waste words. He didn’t need to.
The moment he looked up, there was no forced charm, no need for unnecessary pleasantries.
Dominic slid into the chair beside him, casual but aware. I took a spot near the back, arms crossed, watching.
"Everything set?" Dominic asked, leaning back slightly.
Theo nodded, placing a contract on the table. "Tour sponsorships are locked in. Five major brands, exclusive deals. Streaming rights renegotiated for the next three years."
Dominic picked up the paperwork, skimming through it. "Merchandising?"
"Projected at seventy-five million," Theo replied. "Pushing to eighty if we extend the brand partnership with Zenith."
I frowned, listening to them talk like businessmen instead of musicians.
Theo continued. "The luxury campaign offer is still on the table. They want at least two members to commit, but I don’t think it’s necessary. The profit margin isn’t high enough."
Dominic nodded. "We don’t need it."
I stared at them. "You’re declining a luxury campaign because it doesn’t make enough money?"
Theo glanced at me, expression unreadable. "Yes."
I folded my arms. "You realize most artists would kill for an opportunity like that, right?"
"We’re not most artists," Theo said simply.
There was no arrogance in his voice. Just fact.
I exhaled slowly. "Do you even care about the music? Or is it just business to you?"
Theo didn’t react, but Dominic smirked as if this was exactly the conversation he had been waiting for.
"The music," Theo said, "is what gets people in the door. The business is what keeps us untouchable."
I narrowed my eyes. "Untouchable?"
He leaned back, regarding me with the quiet confidence of someone who had never lost control of a negotiation in his life.
"Do you know how many bands disappear after a few years? Talent isn’t enough.
Popularity isn’t enough. We didn’t make it here because we got lucky.
We made it because we know how to play the game. "
I scoffed. "So that’s all this is? A game?"
Theo didn’t blink. "Everything is a game if you want to win."
I looked at Dominic. "And you agree with this?"
Dominic smirked. "I helped build it."
I hated that I found it impressive.
They weren’t just celebrities riding the wave of their successes were architects of it. Every deal, every contract, every carefully placed endorsement—it wasn’t just random chance. It was strategy.
And that made them even more dangerous.
The meeting continued, with Theo going over streaming revenue projections and market expansions like he was running a billion-dollar tech firm instead of a band.
The others in the room—lawyers, executives, agents—listened carefully, becauseTheo wasn’t just a bassist. He was the business mind of DreamCrest, and no one in this building questioned his authority.
I had assumed he would be different. Less artificial. More grounded. Instead, he was the most calculated of them all.
By the time the meeting ended, I had heard enough.
I followed Dominic out of the room, resisting the urge to rub my temples. "That was the most exhausting conversation I’ve ever listened to."
Dominic chuckled. "You didn’t even say anything."
"Exactly."
He grinned. "You think we’re sellouts, don’t you?"
"I think you don’t care about the art," I said bluntly. "You care about the empire."
Dominic stopped walking, turning to me with something unreadable in his expression. "You say that like it’s a bad thing."
I exhaled sharply. "Music is supposed to be real. It’s supposed to mean something. You treat it like a corporate asset."
Dominic tilted his head slightly. "And yet, millions of people believe in it. They feel something when they hear it. Doesn’t that make it real?"
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words stuck.
Because I had seen it. The way people reacted to them, the way fans cried at their concerts, how theirand music seemed to mean something to the world.
But it didn’t change the fact that behind the scenes, everything was controlled.
Theo’s voice broke through my thoughts as he joined us near the elevator. "You don’t approve," he said, watching me carefully.
I met his gaze. "I don’t believe in manipulation disguised as art."
Theo smirked slightly. "That’s because you’re not the one being manipulated."
I frowned. "Excuse me?"
He leaned against the wall, relaxed. "You think we’re just entertainers, don’t you? Just faces on a screen, living off fame."
I crossed my arms. "Aren’t you?"
His smirk deepened. "No. We’re assets. We don’t just exist in the industry. We control it."
I didn’t respond.
Because I wasn’t sure he was wrong.
Theo pushed off the wall and straightened his suit. "You assume we’re just chasing fame. But fame is temporary. Influence isn’t."
Dominic chuckled, amused. "Careful, Theo. You’ll scare her away."
Theo didn’t take his eyes off me. "She’s not scared. She’s just realizing that maybe we’re not what she expected."
He wasn’t wrong. And that pissed me off more than anything.
As we stepped into the elevator, I forced myself to look straight ahead, refusing to give them the satisfaction of seeing the cracks in my judgment.
Theo adjusted his cuffs, calm, unreadable. "You think we’re just heartless businessmen, don’t you?"
I didn’t answer.
He shrugged. "Maybe. But we’re businessmen that no one can touch."
I stared at my owflection in the elevator doors, my owpression unreadable now.
Power.
That’s what this was all about for them.
And I wanted nothing to do with it.