Peerless Perverted Actor Has a Celebrity Harem?!

Now Park was sitting on the floor in front of her offering the solution to practically every fear she had carried into this building?

’For free?’

The same Park who had just created two excellent songs in thirty-five minutes by sitting opposite her, listening to how she breathed and making her say stupid things about stolen boyfriends.

The same Park whose own voice was so absurd he could realistically keep every one of these songs, release them himself, and make people lose their minds.

He could sell them... NX Arc would buy them, other artists would buy them and other agencies would probably start fights over them once people knew what he could do.

’Instead he is telling her me I could have them.’

CJ looked at him carefully.

"What’s the catch—?"

Park answered before she even finished asking:

"We sign a contract."

CJ blinked, "There it is."

Park grinned. "Obviously. I’m generous, not brain-dead."

MJ laughed from the couch.

"The deal stays between us," Park continued. "You don’t tell NX Arc where the songs actually come from. You don’t tell friends, managers, producers, future boyfriends, future husbands, your favorite bartender, your therapist, your priest, or whoever else becomes emotionally important enough for you to start oversharing."

CJ stared at him and laughed at his absurd examples.

"And MJ signs the same non-disclosure agreement because she already knows."

MJ pointed toward herself. "I got drafted?"

"You’re an accomplice now." CJ said to her sister.

"I hate you."

"No, you don’t."

MJ sighed. "True."

CJ looked at Park strangely; if anything, she had expected to be the person worried about secrecy for the opposite reason; unlike her, he would gain in this secret if it got revealed yet was the one who proposed.

Imagine what happened if people discovered Nathaniel Park had secretly written a string of CJ’s biggest songs someday I she became a star.

His name would explode.

Songwriters would want him, artists fight over him with fans combing through every line he had ever written and build theories about who inspired what. If CJ became genuinely famous and those songs became hits, revealing Park as the hidden composer could turn him into a celebrity almost on songwriting alone.

Yet he was the now who wanted anonymity.

"What do you get out of this?" CJ asked.

Park almost smiled.

’Ten percent gross and magical skill currency until God shuts the servers down.’

Instead, he chose that exact moment to remember the one part of the deal the System had made very fucking important.

"You can’t say no to whatever song I give you."

CJ’s expression flattened.

Park continued. "And you can’t break the partnership later because some producer tells you he’s the next Mozart and his songs come with better choreography. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly. Lifetime."

CJ stared at him: "What is a Mozart?"

Park laughed and just waited for outrage of the earlier question, disbelief, maybe some speech about creative independence and chains and artistic freedom.

Instead she asked, completely expressionless, "That’s it?"

Park blinked.

CJ pointed at the notebook. "Do I look stupid?"

MJ started laughing.

CJ ignored her. "You just made two songs in thirty minutes, gave me another one that might be the best thing I’ve ever sung, and you’re offering to keep doing that for my entire career. You think I’m going to wake up one morning and say, No thanks, I’d rather struggle?"

Park opened his mouth but nothing useful arrived.

CJ shook her head. "If that’s your terrifying condition, I think I’ll survive."

Park looked at her for another second.

Then grinned.

God, he liked this woman already.

"Good." He handed the notebook over. "Scan the songs into your phone. The duet too, and the first solo one. Practice them."

CJ accepted it carefully, her thumb resting beside one of the handwritten chorus lines.

"What should I sing for the audition?"

Park stood, stretching his legs after sitting on the floor so long. "Whatever you want."

CJ looked up at him.

"Seriously?"

"It’s your audition. Pick the one you understand best. If you walk in there trying to imitate me, you’ll ruin it anyway. Sing it like you."

That seemed to hit her almost as hard as the offer itself, Park slipped his hands into his pockets and glanced at the time.

He still had his own audition to destroy.

"I’ll meet you sometime soon and we’ll sign something binding. Proper NDA, terms, all that boring adult shit."

CJ nodded.

Park looked toward MJ. "And give her the notebook when you’re done. She’ll get it back to me."

Then he looked at MJ.

"You will, right?"

MJ nodded immediately. "Yeah."

"Perfect."

Park started toward the door, then turned and gave them both a lazy wave.

"Good luck, CJ."

She looked down at the notebook in her hands, at the little pieces of songs she had somehow walked into this morning without knowing existed, and smiled.

"You too."

Park disappeared into the hallway.

The door clicked shut.

For several seconds neither sister spoke.

CJ slowly looked toward MJ.

Her face was unusually serious: "Mikayla."

MJ immediately narrowed her eyes. "What?"

CJ hugged the notebook against her chest.

"I think I’m in love."

MJ’s eyes widened so violently CJ burst out laughing:

"No! God, not like that."

"You bitch."

"Although..." CJ glanced toward the closed door, smiling to herself. "Who knows? I might actually grow to love him for real feelings someday."

MJ stared... CJ’s smile widened before she looked down at the pages again, eyes shining with something much larger than attraction:

"But right now? I’m in love with my future."

Then CJ launched herself at her sister.

MJ barely had time to catch her before CJ wrapped both arms around her and squeezed hard enough to make her grunt.

"Thank you," CJ said against her shoulder. "Thank you, thank you, thank you."

MJ laughed and hugged her back.

"For what?"

"For your big mouth." CJ pulled back enough to grin at her. "And for being so stupidly proud of me that you apparently went around telling monsters I could sing."

MJ smiled.

"That part was true."

CJ looked down at the notebook again, and one of the lines near the top of the page caught her eye.

{...Maybe in another life, you’ll make it home to me...}

Four songs.

One secret deal.

And suddenly the future she had spent all morning watching collapse had become so ridiculously wide she could barely see the edges.

"Yeah," she whispered, smiling helplessly.

"It fucking was."

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