Peerless Perverted Actor Has a Celebrity Harem?!

Park wanted his family to have absolutely nothing to do with his career, which was admittedly a slightly ridiculous principle to hold while standing in one of Aurora’s most expensive law firms with the Premium Card in his wallet ultimately connected to Bennett money.

He understood the irony but he just chose not to respect it.

There was a difference between spending money he legally had access to and allowing Alexander, the Chancellor, or anyone else in that house to start building his career around him:

Park wanted to find his own people, make his own calls and create a professional life that didn’t require somebody mentioning his father’s name every time he needed something done.

Emmeline was the obvious exception, although even there he wanted to start pulling her out of his problems.

She had spent enough years planting herself in front of him whenever the family decided Park was the easiest target in the room. He didn’t want her going toe to toe with Alexander again simply because her little brother had chosen acting.

Well... not completely.

Park wasn’t becoming a saint overnight.

If Emmeline wanted to manage his socials, annoy him at breakfast, become his woman and generally invade his life with the enthusiasm of a very beautiful and very welcomed parasite, he wasn’t exactly planning to stop her.

He simply didn’t want her fighting his wars anymore.

Alexander couldn’t exactly destroy his own daughter for refusing to abandon Park, and the Chancellor would protect Emmeline anyway, but Park had already burned enough of that family bridge himself.

For the beginning of his career, he wanted peace.

Or at least the closest approximation available to a secret bastard son of the Prime Minister with a broken System and a father quietly paying people to make him fail.

Eventually, his family would crawl back into his career.

Park wasn’t delusional enough to think otherwise.

The Bennetts were far too powerful, far too involved in one another’s lives and far too fucking relentless for him to simply declare independence and disappear into show business forever.

But later would be better.

Later, when Nathaniel Park actually had something of his own.

Park stopped outside the office and adjusted the large envelope beneath his arm and knocked twice.

"Come in."

He opened the door.

The office was larger than he expected, though by Ashbourne, Vale & Crowe standards that was probably equivalent to saying the water was expensive. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over Aurora, while one wall held shelves of legal books, awards and neatly arranged files. A broad dark desk occupied the centre without being buried beneath paperwork, and a smaller conference table sat nearer the windows.

The woman inside had her back to him, leaning slightly over a cabinet as she lifted a thick file from a stack.

Park’s eyes, being attached to a nineteen-year-old male body and therefore unionized against good judgment, briefly registered a fitted charcoal skirt stretched tight over long legs, a narrow waist, and a full, heavy ass that the fabric hugged like it had been tailored just to show it off.

Her ass looked supple, snapped like a peach and round; it sat high and full with the cheeks pressing together under the tight skirt every time she shifted her weight.

The skirt itself creased deep between them when she leaned, outlining the split, the heavy underside, the way it would bounce if he slapped it.

She turned and Park immediately upgraded respectable to dangerous.

Evelyn Harcourt looked somewhere around forty, perhaps a little younger from a distance, with dark brown hair falling just beyond her shoulders and with a composed face that had probably watched billionaires lie badly for twenty years without developing the courtesy to pretend she believed them.

Her suit was elegant rather than severe, cream blouse stretched tight over her chest, dark jacket, small gold earrings, very little else demanding attention because apparently she didn’t need accessories to make a room behave.

The blouse sat high enough to stay professional and still did nothing to hide the shape of her breasts and nipples faintly outlined when she moved, the deep line of cleavage visible every time she breathed.

Her waist was narrow enough that the skirt flared over the thick curve of her hips, the same heavy ass that had already ruined his concentration now facing him properly, round and thick and made for hands.

His brain immediately start filing complaints against his own self-control —

She stopped for half a second when she saw the handsome teenager.

Only half.

Evelyn cleared her throat and gestured toward the chairs opposite her desk.

"Mr. Park."

"Nathaniel is fine."

"You must be Nathaniel Park, then."

Park walked in and closed the door behind him. "And you must be Ms. Harcourt."

Her brows moved slightly.

"Ms.," Park repeated, allowing his gaze to make the smallest theatrical sweep over her before returning to her eyes. "That’s encouraging. It would’ve been tragic discovering someone this beautiful had already been professionally claimed."

Evelyn stared at him and laughed.

"Young man," she said as she sat down, "if that’s your flirting line, I’m afraid you’re going to die lonely."

Park took the opposite chair and leaned back comfortably. "With this face and body?"

That made her look at him again.

Properly this time.

Her eyes went over his face, paused, then dropped just enough to take in the height and build hidden beneath his clothes before returning upward. Whatever professional answer she’d intended seemed to require a tiny revision.

"I withdraw my prediction."

Park grinned. "Thought so."

"Unfortunately, confidence isn’t admissible currency here." She extended one hand toward him. "Where is it?"

Park placed the envelope on her desk.

They had already spoken twice over the phone, first to establish what he wanted and again after AVC’s conflict department cleared the representation. He had told Evelyn that NX Arc was preparing to sign him across acting and music, that he’d already received a proposed contract, and that he wanted independent counsel before he signed so much as the final page.

Evelyn opened the envelope and began working through the agreement.

Park watched her skim, stop, turn backward, read something again; her mouth moved slightly.

"Oh."

Park smiled. "Good oh or somebody-is-about-to-rob-me oh?"

"Neither yet."

She turned several pages, scanned another section and gave him a sideways glance.

"Hm."

"That one sounds... bad?"

"It is."

Park folded his arms.

Evelyn read another paragraph before finally looking directly at him. "You said on the phone you auditioned for them as an actor first."

"Yes."

"And then they discovered you sing."

"Among other things."

"Songwriting?"

"Yes."

"Composition?"

"Yes."

"Production?"

"No."

"Your own material?"

"Yes."

"How much?"

Park considered the question. "Enough that I don’t want them owning everything I make for the rest of my natural life."

Evelyn lowered her eyes to the contract.

"Well, somebody at NX seems to share your assessment of your future productivity." She tapped one clause with the end of her pen. "This is ambitious even by entertainment-company standards."

"Ambitious?"

"I’m being polite because we’ve only just met." She flipped several pages forward. "Broad commissioned-work language. Very wide creative exclusivity. Assignment rights over compositions made through company resources. A ten-percent master interest on your own recordings. Publishing provisions that become particularly unpleasant if you write for their other artists, and enough recoupment language to keep several accountants employed."

Park smiled slowly; his Golden Mic had pointed out exactly the same things.

"So they’re trying to screw me."

"They’re trying to sign you."

"That’s a beautiful lawyer answer."

"It’s also the correct one." Evelyn leaned back. "NX Arc isn’t a charity and you’re currently a rookie. They intend to spend money developing you, introducing you, training you, recording you, promoting you and placing you in rooms you couldn’t easily enter alone. Naturally, they want as much upside as they can secure before your bargaining power changes; they’re not some kind evil but a business."

Her mouth curved slightly. "And businesses are much more predictable."

Evelyn returned to the contract and asked him more about the audition, the acting intake, his original music, how much NX had heard and what exactly they had said after evaluating him. Park didn’t tell her the fact that he could probably write a commercially usable song before the coffee outside got cold.

He gave her enough truth to understand the leverage.

By the time he finished, Evelyn had stopped treating the agreement like routine rookie paperwork.

"Given what you’re describing," she said, "I don’t want this structured the way NX has structured it."

Park leaned forward. "Meaning?"

"Two contracts: One for acting representation and one governing your recording and music relationship. Coordinated, obviously. Same company, same overall relationship, but different economic structures and different termination mechanics."

She continued:

"Acting and music don’t make money the same way, and right now NX is benefiting from blending them wherever the language helps NX." Evelyn pulled a yellow legal pad toward herself and began writing while she spoke:

"Your acting agreement should deal with; representation, commission, projects, endorsements, approvals, term, availability, likeness and their obligations to develop your acting career. Your music agreement needs; masters, recording commitments, publishing, songwriting, royalties, recoupment, release obligations, outside compositions, licensing, accounting and everything else that becomes expensive when a song refuses to die."

Park nodded slowly.

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