Now here he was, looking even bigger than I remembered.Same broad shoulders, same buzzed haircut, same unimpressed glare like he was one deep sigh away from throwing me out.
His thick eyebrows launched halfway up his forehead the second he spotted me.Next to him sat an older man I didn’t recognize.Gray hair combed back neat and tidy, a pressed sweater over slacks, legs crossed at the ankle like he had all the time in the world.He was perched casually on the edge of the desk, tapping one ringed finger against his knee like this was just another Tuesday.
The man glanced at me, then muttered something in what I think was Russian.Dimitri gave a short laugh, like whatever was said had been both accurate and brutal.
Nessa groaned and pointed at me like I was something she’d found stuck to the bottom of her shoe.
“Petyr, Dimitri, don’t start,” she warned them both.“Apparently, Jack and Liam have lost their goddamn minds and scheduled a meeting with him.”
I gave Dimitri an awkward half-wave.“Hey… long time no see.”
Dimitri tilted his head at me, gave a slow, dry smile, and in careful, accented English said, “This… will be interesting.”
The man named Petyr let out a long, dramatic sigh and reached for a clipboard resting next to him like it was a loaded weapon.
“As the Studio Compliance Officer,” he said, straightening his back like he was giving a press conference, “I should have been informed about this appointment.”
Then, with an exaggerated flourish you only see in bad courtroom dramas, he yanked a pen from behind his ear and started scribbling furiously on the clipboard.
I blinked at him.
Studio Compliance Officer?
Okay… apparently, he was somebody important.
Dimitri just sat there, arms crossed, watching the entire exchange like it was the most entertainment he’d get all week.
Nessa rolled her eyes so hard I was amazed she didn’t sprain something.“Oh, please, Petyr.Nobody tells you anything because all you do is write fake violations on that clipboard like you’re building a case for HR, which—spoiler—you’re not.”
Petyr paused mid-scribble to give her a look that somehow managed to be both wounded and superior.
“Come on, jailbird,” Nessa barked, grabbing me by the arm and dragging me toward the hallway.“Let’s go before Petyr writes you up for existing.”
I stumbled after her, trying not to trip over my own feet.
We walked past a row of offices, each with open doors and half-glimpsed people inside.Some were typing on laptops, some shouting into phones, and one guy with pastel pink hair appeared to be organizing sex toys.
Then, midway down the hall, I stopped dead in my tracks.
Through a wide glass doorway on the left, a scene was being filmed on a brightly lit set.
A woman dressed head-to-toe in tight black leather sat on the edge of a low platform bed with a shirtless man draped across her knees.
She held a riding crop in one gloved hand, smacking him across the ass with gleeful precision.
“Beg for it, you worthless little worm!”she barked, her voice sharp enough to cut drywall.“Tell me how much you love being my pathetic plaything!”
The guy moaned dramatically, wiggling like he was auditioning for a soap opera and a torture porn flick at the same time.
I stood there, wide-eyed, frozen in the middle of the hallway like my brain had short-circuited.
Nessa doubled back, grabbed my sleeve, and yanked me forward hard enough to nearly pop my shoulder out of its socket.
“Eyes front, genius,” she hissed.“You wanna gawk?Get a subscription.”
I stumbled along after her, cheeks burning.
We turned the corner, and she pushed open a door that led into what looked like a shared office space.Two desks.A whiteboard covered in scribbles and calendars.A sad little ficus plant dying in the corner.
