16-20

Chapter 16 – They’ve All Gone Crazy

Crazy. Crazy.

Both of them have gone mad.

When they left 9406 Crest Avenue…

Raul Aleman felt that Bertrand Irwin from HUP and Mare Verlon from Times Publishing Company had both lost their minds.

Just now, in the living room of the villa…

Bertrand Irwin and Mare Verlon had offered an outrageous price for a young writer's work, which was just a rough draft, barely even a beginning.

These two had actually come up with insane offers.

HUP offered a 30% advance on royalties, promising an initial print run of 200,000 copies, with a 15% royalty split on subsequent sales.

Times Publishing, on the other hand, offered a 20% advance, also with an initial print run of 200,000 copies—but the royalty split for later sales was even more absurd, set at 20%.

This kind of advance and royalty percentage was something even many well-established, famous authors could only dream of.

Take Harper Lee, for example.

She’s the most famous living female writer in the U.S. today.

Her novel To Kill a Mockingbird won the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction.

It has been translated into over 40 languages and has sold over 30 million copies worldwide.

Yet, the big publishers only offered her a similar deal—about the same kind of advance and royalty split that Bertrand and Mare were offering.

Who did this young writer think he was? Even if the beginning of his manuscript was promising, it was only about 80,000 words. What if the rest of it turned out to be a mess?

And as for fame? The young man was practically a nobody in the publishing world, not a cultural icon by any means.

So why should he be treated like Harper Lee?

Raul thought the two of them had lost it. He also felt a little crazy himself.

Just now, he had failed to leave the villa decisively.

Instead, he had stayed to watch those two lose their minds with the young writer.

At least it was finally over.

An hour later…

Bertrand Irwin, representing HUP, secured the publishing rights.

The price had naturally gone up in the heat of the competition.

The final offer from HUP was:

- An initial print run of 300,000 copies,

- An advance of 40% on royalties,

- A 20% royalty split on subsequent sales.

Raul silently calculated the costs for HUP.

Typically, when a publisher decides to invest in a book, they predict the sales based on the author's past work and similar books.

If they offer a 10% advance on royalties, with an initial print run of 10,000 copies, and a price of $20 per copy, the author would receive $2 per book as an advance, with the remaining $18 split between the publisher and the distributors.

Subsequent royalties are typically settled on a quarterly or annual basis.

Now, applying this model to the current situation…

A crazy 40% advance on royalties, an insane initial print run of 300,000 copies.

Assuming the price is around $10 per book—this is the standard price for a mass-market novel in the U.S.

In other words, before HUP even sells a single copy, they have to pay that young writer $1.2 million.

But that's a one-time payment—once the book is published, no more money is owed.

For most first-time authors, advances are typically negligible. This is a tactic used by publishers to attract big-name authors.

Some even call it a "signing bonus."

"Crazy gift!" Raul muttered as he left Beverly Hills.

He invited Eckhansson for coffee.

Once seated at the café, Raul went straight to the point.

"Bertrand Irwin and Mare Verlon—have they lost their minds? Did they think they were dealing with a new novel from John Grisham or Michael Connelly?"

"And…," he glanced at his friend, "why didn’t you leave earlier? I almost thought you were going to go crazy with them."

Eckhansson laughed and shook his head. "Raul, trust me, Mare Verlon might have lost it, but Bertrand definitely hasn’t. He’s one of the calmest people in our industry."

"Then why…?" Raul frowned.

"There must be a reason, we just don’t know what it is."

Raul paused.

Actually, he felt the same way, which is why he had stayed and watched Bertrand and Mare "go crazy" with the young writer.

"You guess. What kind of situation could make those two act like this?"

Raul and Eckhansson discussed it.

"I think you can guess too. There are only a few possibilities," Eckhansson said. "Either they’ve read the entire manuscript and see potential, so they’re making a big bet…"

"This is the least likely possibility," Raul said without hesitation.

Eckhansson smiled and nodded. He agreed. "If it’s not that, then maybe it’s something else, like… Dave Smith."

Dave Smith, one of the best-selling authors in America.

He was also a congressman and the head of the copyright office at the Library of Congress.

In other countries, libraries are just libraries. But the U.S. Library of Congress is quite unique.

It has a department called the Copyright Office.

Dave Smith is the current head of this office.

He’s published several novels, all of which have sold over a million copies each. Very popular.

But public opinion is mixed—most people haven’t actually read his books.

Raul, of course, knew what Dave Smith meant in the publishing world.

Eckhansson didn’t need to say it—Raul had thought of the same possibility.

Otherwise, why would HUP and Times Publishing offer such a crazy deal to Milo?

Raul hadn’t received any prior notice before coming, so he didn’t understand the situation completely. If he had, he would’ve stepped in earlier.

Eckhansson had been thinking along the same lines.

Raul sighed in relief.

"Let’s finish this coffee and head back. We’ll report to higher-ups. I’m sure someone will look into it and tell us what to do next."

Eckhansson agreed.

Raul nodded briskly. "Let’s go."

"Hey, the coffee hasn’t even arrived yet."

"Next time, my treat. Right now, I’m not in the mood."

"F**k it!"

…

…

"Tomorrow, we can sign the contract."

At 9406 Crest Avenue, in the villa’s living room…

After Bertrand Irwin from HUP left, Wendy returned and asked Milo, "When will your book be finished?"

"It’s supposed to be 380,000 words. I’ve already completed 300,000," Milo said with a smile. "Once the contract’s signed, they should be able to get the manuscript."

"I thought… I thought…"

Wendy made a few gestures, lost in thought.

"You thought I was joking? Come on, Wendy, I’m serious."

Milo raised an eyebrow. "Let me make it clear again. I’m not the same person I used to be!"

After letting out a long breath, Wendy shrugged.

"I believe you. But… okay, I still find it hard to believe. But I think… everyone will be happy for you."

At last, Milo seemed ready to do something.

Even if it was strange and a bit absurd, at least it was something.

"Everyone changes. After Paladin passed away, I’m not who I was anymore."

Milo waved his hand. "Anyway, enough about that. How’s the thing I asked you to handle going?"

"The acquisition?"

"Yes."

Paladin Films had only been in Hollywood for a little over three years.

But the company had fewer than ten employees.

Chairman Milo Blackburn, General Manager Wendy Aris.

That made two of them.

The rest, aside from a part-time cleaner, were an accountant, investigator, and two errand runners.

With such a small team, it was clear they couldn’t fulfill Milo’s ambitions of making films.

Before going into seclusion, Milo had asked Wendy to acquire a movie company.

It didn’t need to be a big one—just one with a complete structure and some industry connections.

"This is no big deal. There are plenty of such companies in Hollywood," Wendy shrugged. "Besides, Disney owes us a favor. I’ve got it all sorted out."

"Good."

Milo nodded in satisfaction.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 17: Casting*

Three days earlier,

Plymouth, Massachusetts.

At the Blackburn family's estate.

Old John set down a thick stack of papers and also removed his glasses from his nose. He placed both items aside.

The elderly man gazed at Kim Harris, the Blackburn family's head butler.

"Did Milo really write this?" John II spoke up.

Kim slightly bowed. Despite his graying hair, the butler’s voice remained steady. "Wendy, Malina, and even David have all sent messages confirming it. They’re absolutely sure it’s Milo who wrote it."

"They said Milo locked himself in his study for a month. He only left to sleep, eat, or occasionally entertain himself, but otherwise, he stayed in the study, writing nonstop. They said he wrote a lot…"

Old John, whose full name was John II Adams Joe Blackburn, remained silent for a long time, and the room fell into stillness.

"This must be a gift from the Lord," he suddenly spoke, breaking the silence.

"He wants the Paladin to come serve Him. But He also knows of Blackburn's devotion, so He must have granted Milo divine inspiration, allowing Blackburn to better serve Him."

"Otherwise, there’s no way Milo could have written something like this. Even though it’s only part of it, the pages are filled with His traces."

"Kim."

"I'm here, my lord."

"Go tell them that Milo was divinely inspired. God favors him."

Kim took a deep breath, bowed, and replied, "You're right. This must be the Lord's favor."

---

Milo had originally just planned to make a small-budget film for fun.

Of course, he was going to choose from the films that had already proven successful in his previous life.

Like those small-budget, high-return movies.

Things like Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, The Blair Witch Project, or Get Out.

But then he changed his mind.

There were many reasons for this.

One of them was his newly finished novel.

It had been snapped up by Harvard Publishing for an absurdly high advance.

Even though he knew it was going to be successful, after learning about the current state of the American publishing industry, he still found it outrageous.

Later, he found out that the reason Harvard Publishing was willing to offer such a deal was because his grandfather had stepped in.

His grandfather was both a board member and a trustee at Harvard University.

The Blackburn family had always been alumni of the school.

Including Milo.

This made Milo more and more aware that, compared to the artistic works from his past life, his family background was his biggest advantage.

Another reason:

Two months ago, when he was just reborn, he had spent a fortune and used his connections to buy shares in Netscape.

The company went public as scheduled.

Netscape was founded 16 months ago, with no profits and nearly $5 million in losses.

Yet, on the day it went public, its market value hit $7.1 billion.

The success of Netscape caused many small companies in Silicon Valley, those run out of garages or warehouses with just two or three people, to see their values increase by several times, even tens or hundreds of times overnight.

By the 25th, a week after Netscape went public, its market value surpassed $10 billion.

Milo’s $4 million worth of shares had turned into $25 million.

Including Netscape, his total investments in Silicon Valley, amounting to over $20 million, had grown to over $100 million in just over a month.

And this was just the beginning. This was the start of what would later be called the Internet era.

Given such a strong foundation and powerful background,

why would he bother with small-budget films?

The pioneers of the past had only dared to make small investments because they had no choice.

But look at the future , where the flowers of wealth bloom. The entertainment industry is where they shine.

Those stars start with big roles from the get-go, and later, they move on to Hollywood’s biggest productions, ones that other actresses at the time could only dream of.

In this context, Milo knew that his background was not just comparable, but possibly even stronger.

Thus, with a bold heart, he decisively mortgaged his Netscape shares.

The market value at the time was $25 million, and he mortgaged $20 million.

Plus, an advance of $1.2 million for royalties and the original $9 million.

He ended up with $30 million.

Disney, pinching their noses and recognizing the favor, agreed to invest $10 million.

A total of $40 million, which he announced as a $60 million movie investment.

Of course, Milo still had some self-awareness.

This time, he used internal channels to release the news, so the media was unaware of the specifics. Plus, it wasn’t the internet age yet, and Milo wasn’t famous—his existing reputation was actually quite bad.

So, the news of his casting was not widely known outside the industry.

Even so, nearly a thousand video tapes were mailed to the company, and several second- and third-tier actor agents came to recommend their clients.

Some rising stars even tried to get information through other channels. After all, although Milo wasn’t well-known in the industry, he had Disney backing him.

And this was a film with a $60 million investment.

In this era, that was enough to attract any non-top-tier star.

Honestly, if it weren’t for the fact that Milo and his film company were still relatively unknown, the situation would have been even more spectacular.

The casting was being handled by Milo's chosen assistant director and chief cinematographer—Wally Pfister.

In this timeline, Wally Pfister was just an unknown cinematographer in Hollywood.

He only entered the industry in 1991 and had worked as a cinematographer and photography director for a few low-budget films.

When Wendy, at Milo's request, acquired a film company with a complete behind-the-scenes crew,

Wally Pfister became the chief cinematographer and photography director for Aladdin Films.

Wally followed Milo’s standards strictly during the casting.

He first eliminated a large portion through the video tapes, then narrowed it down further through phone interviews.

Then, he arranged for the initial auditions, recorded the actresses' footage, and handed it to Milo, who considered himself the director and producer. The rest was up to his decision.

"How many are left? 40?"

After watching the tapes for a long time, Milo pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling somewhat fatigued, and asked.

After receiving a confirmation, he paused the tape, signaling for everyone to take a break.

After pouring himself a cup of coffee, Milo shook his head and sighed.

Though he hadn’t watched all 100 audition tapes, only three had caught his eye, and even then, they just barely met the criteria.

Was he really going to have to settle for Tom Hanks?

Milo shook his head and walked back to the desk, flipping through the actor profiles once again.

In Hollywood, no one was irreplaceable; he just hadn’t found the right person yet.

Unable to decide on a male lead, he decided to start with the other roles.

After flipping through the profiles several times, he shrugged and was about to continue watching more tapes when an idea suddenly came to him. He picked up one final profile, flipped through it, and an odd expression crossed his face.

“Wally, do you remember this woman?” Milo asked, holding up the profile.

“Hmm… Yes, an Italian woman, she was a model. She has decent charisma and a nice figure.” Wally Pfister nodded after looking at the profile.

“Find her tape.”

Milo immediately said, his eyes lingering on the name on the profile.

(End of Chapter)  

Chapter 18: Monica Bellucci

"Well done, Miss Callas. Next, I’d like you to recite a passage from the script and interpret it in your own way," Milo said after the woman in front of him finished her performance based on a scene from the screenplay.

He gestured, and an assistant promptly handed over a prepared script.

Miss Callas, the actress, looked a little tense. She sat down, took a few deep breaths, and picked up the script.

“Where is this place?”

“What? MJ likes it here too? Impossible!”

“Let’s go to the amusement park. No, I don’t like it.”

“Oh, come on, don’t be so uptight.”

“Alright, fine. You win because your fist is bigger.”

“...”

After the dialogue ended, Milo stroked his chin thoughtfully and nodded to her. "Thank you, Miss Callas. That was good. That’ll be all for now."

"Thank you, sir." Callas seemed as if she wanted to say more, but in the end, she simply turned and left.

As soon as she was gone, Wendy, who stood nearby, couldn’t help but comment, "She’s got a great figure. Why didn’t you keep her?"

"I'm looking for someone to play the lead and supporting female roles, not someone to have dinner with me tonight," Milo replied, raising an eyebrow. He glanced at the chubby assistant and said, "I need the right fit."

Wendy mumbled something under his breath, but only he knew what it was.

“Next.”

Milo picked up the last portfolio on the table and looked toward the door as a black-haired woman walked in.

She appeared to be about 28 or 29 years old, standing roughly 5'6". She wore a simple long-sleeved white blouse and a dark knee-length skirt. Her jet-black, glossy hair fell smoothly over her shoulders.

At first glance, she didn’t seem stunningly beautiful, but she exuded an innate sensuality. Coupled with her curvaceous, hourglass figure, she was irresistibly alluring.

No wonder she gained fame years later at the age of 36 with her role in Malèna.

Milo squinted slightly, steadying his emotions before speaking in a calm tone. "Please have a seat, Miss Monica Bellucci."

"Thank you, Mr. Blackburn," Monica replied with a smile. She sat gracefully in the chair, tilting her head to brush her hair off her shoulder.

The gesture was natural yet incredibly seductive.

"If you don’t mind, may we begin?" Milo asked evenly.

"Of course, I’m here to do whatever you ask," Monica responded, her legs crossed neatly, her hands resting on her lap with an air of elegance.

Yet, the sheer black stockings she wore added a hint of contradiction to her otherwise composed demeanor, making her both dignified and irresistibly provocative.

Milo raised an eyebrow, thinking, She gets it. Compared to her, Catherine Zeta-Jones seemed much greener.

Like the others, Monica’s audition consisted of a physical performance followed by reading a passage from the script. However, Milo made an impromptu change to her physical performance.

Initially, he planned to have her roll on the floor as if evading something. Instead, he asked Monica to perform a swing dance.

This scene wouldn’t appear in the movie. It was simply because Milo thought her outfit suited the movement perfectly.

Eager for the opportunity, Monica threw herself into the performance. Even though she wasn’t familiar with the dance and had no partner, she showcased her best effort.

Milo had to admit that her sensual figure, in motion, was utterly captivating—especially the side-to-side swaying, which was downright mesmerizing.

Not only did the assistants steal glances, but Milo couldn’t help but look repeatedly himself. What an absolute enchantress! he marveled inwardly.

Though Monica’s appearance wasn’t striking at first glance, the more he looked, the more her unique charm grew on him. Her plump, alluring lips and seductive figure could easily make any man’s heart race.

"That’ll do, Miss Bellucci. You were excellent," Milo said after her performance. "But I must say, your aura and image don’t quite match my vision for the film’s leading role."

Disappointment washed over Monica’s face. Her captivating features now carried an air of vulnerability, evoking a protective instinct.

"However," Milo continued, "I think you might be perfect for the second most important female role in the film. Would you be interested?"

Monica froze for a second or two before her stunning face lit up with a smile.

"Oh, this is incredible! Of course, I’d love to!"

For a $60 million blockbuster, even a minor role would have been appealing to her current Hollywood status, let alone a significant supporting role.

"Good."

Milo remained calm as he gestured toward David. "Here’s my card. There will be a second round of auditions later. As long as there are no issues, the role is yours."

After his remarks, Wendy, assistant director Wally Pfister, and a few staff members exchanged glances.

This was the first time Milo personally handed out a business card during the auditions.

Usually, there was no "business card" step in the casting process. Giving her one now was practically an invitation for her to call him.

This carried a very strong implication.

But...

From a man’s perspective, Wally Pfister found Milo’s reaction entirely understandable.

The Italian beauty before them was simply too alluring.

"Thank you," Monica said as she accepted the card with a smile. Her expression seemed genuinely unassuming, as though she didn’t pick up on the implications.

But that was impossible.

Considering her nationality, her pre-acting career, and the many sultry films she’d later star in, it was clear that Monica understood Hollywood’s rules well—and she certainly wouldn’t resist them.

Once she left, Wendy quietly muttered, "Now I see why you didn’t choose Callas earlier. Turns out you had something better lined up."

Milo ignored him, stretching as he addressed the assistant director and the staff.

"That’s it for today. Catherine Zeta-Jones is the tentative lead. You handle casting for the third female role and the second male role. As for the lead actor, I still need to think about it."

Wally Pfister nodded on behalf of the group, watching as Milo, along with the general manager and bodyguard, left.

***

On the way back to Beverly Hills, Wendy kept stealing glances at Milo, who was pretending to nap. His expression was peculiar, as though he couldn’t hold something in any longer.

"You really surprised me today," Wendy finally blurted out.

"Heh, why? Do I seem too serious for my usual self?" Milo replied, not opening his eyes but letting a faint smirk play on his lips.

"Exactly. Casting... You’ve done it before as a producer and investor, but you used to just give out hotel names and room numbers. Today... It seems like you genuinely want to find the right actors. You actually look like you want to direct."

Wendy’s disbelief was palpable. "But... You studied theology in college. You’ve never directed anything before."

"So what? Our dear Ronald Wilson majored in economics but worked as a radio announcer after graduation, became an actor, and later served all Americans."

"And the guy in office now? He studied foreign affairs but never served as a diplomat. Instead, he started working for a senator before graduating."

"And my father? He graduated from Harvard Divinity School, like me. Yet, neither of us became ministers, and he’s now a congressman."

Milo’s voice echoed calmly in the car, his eyes still closed.

"People grow up, Wendy. I’ve grown up. So it all makes sense. Don’t you agree?"

Wendy’s jaw dropped slightly, stunned into silence before finally squeezing out, "Fine, you’ve got a point."

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 19: But You Already Have a Girlfriend*

In the afternoon, during that conversation in the car,

Wendy still thought that Milo had truly changed.

But by evening,

when Milo drove out in his Ferrari,

saying he was going to mentor the actress from today’s audition,

the fat man knew that Milo hadn’t changed.

At least not in some ways!

Beverly Hills, Santa Monica Boulevard.

Rebecca's Restaurant.

The soft sound of a violin echoed throughout the restaurant, and guests whispered quietly, maintaining an air of sophistication.

Candles burned in olive-shaped glass jars, casting a slightly dim glow that gave the restaurant an air of tranquility.

Monica, seated across from the young and handsome man, elegantly sliced off a tender piece of veal.

She took a bite with her fork, chewing slowly. Her lips moved up and down with the rhythm, making her appear utterly seductive in the dim light of the restaurant.

Soon, a flash of surprise appeared in her brown eyes.

“I'm really surprised. I can taste the authentic flavors of my hometown here. The veal is so authentic.”

“The ingredients at Rebecca's are airlifted daily from Italy, so reservations are a must. Although some of the freshness is lost in the process, the chef’s careful preparation makes it hard for most people to notice the difference.”

Milo smiled slightly and raised his spoon to sip the soup.

“Indeed, tasting this delicious food brings back memories of my university days in Perugia.”

Monica closed her eyes and tilted her head back slightly, swallowing the food slowly as her pale neck rose and fell, almost hypnotically.

Just eating was enough to be a temptation.

She was thirty years old now.

For a proper Anglo-Saxon woman at her age, aging could be quite severe.

Hollywood's famous "pretty baby" Bo Derek was a good example.

Before she turned twenty, Bo Derek was stunning, her beauty considered one of the Seven Wonders of the World.

But now?

She and Monica were born the same year, but when Milo last saw her at a party,

even someone as lustful as Milo had no interest in her anymore.

She looked too old.

In comparison, women of other ethnicities tended to age much more slowly.

The beauty in front of him, for instance, belonged to the Mediterranean type within the Caucasian group.

To be more specific, she was of the Atlantic-Mediterranean variety.

With black hair, brown eyes, and skin more delicate than the pale Germanic Anglo-Saxon types of Western Europe.

Historically, the Roman Empire, whose people spoke Latin—belonged to this ethnic group.

“I’m sorry. The food is just so good, it reminded me of home, and I got a little excited,” she said, quickly recovering and smiling gently.

“It’s okay. I understand. I get that way too when I’ve been in a strange environment for a long time.”

Milo raised his glass, “Why don’t you tell me about your hometown? I remember the files said you’re from a small Italian town called Castello. It must be beautiful there, or how else could a woman like you come from it?”

“You really know how to flatter,” Monica said, covering her mouth with a soft laugh, her eyes curving into a smile. She seemed quite pleased.

Women were, after all, still women.

Milo sipped his red wine, his gaze flicking with interest as he watched Monica.

Although he wasn’t sure whether her memories of home were part of her act,

the happiness she’d shown from his compliment seemed genuine.

The dinner ended in such a pleasant atmosphere.

When they left the restaurant, they walked side by side along the street, which was much quieter now with fewer people than during the day, enjoying the evening view.

On a late August evening in Los Angeles, the temperature was very comfortable.

“Los Angeles is such a beautiful city, especially at night. When you stand on high ground and look down, the lights are sparkling, and it’s easy to get lost in it.”

They walked slowly down the street, side by side, not too physically close.

“Yeah, exactly. There aren’t so many tall buildings here, and when you look down from above, it feels especially open… By the way, why doesn’t Los Angeles have as many skyscrapers like other cities?”

Monica asked curiously.

“Because Los Angeles is in the Pacific Ring of Fire, an area prone to earthquakes. That’s why it doesn’t have so many skyscrapers like other cities,” Milo shrugged.

“Oh~” she nodded as if it suddenly made sense, looking rather cute.

“Actually, in terms of environment and climate, Los Angeles doesn’t compare to San Francisco.”

Milo continued, “But when it comes to living conditions, I think the climate in the San Francisco Bay Area is one of the most comfortable in the world.”

“Mm,” Monica responded.

But right now, she wasn’t interested in debating whether Los Angeles or San Francisco had the better living conditions.

She was more focused on how she could land the role.

She wasn’t in a position yet to choose where she would live.

Monica was currently living in Carson, a small town under Los Angeles jurisdiction.

It had a large Italian-American population, and living there meant she received some support from her fellow countrymen.

At least, Italians tended to be more united in that regard.

Her finances didn’t even allow her to live in North Hollywood, which was known as the Hollywood ghetto…

With that thought, Monica softly spoke up, “Milo, I wanted to ask, how did I do in today’s audition? You know, I used to be a model, and in college, I studied secretarial work, not acting. I’m worried it might have been terrible.”

“Your performance was good. But since you're not formally trained and lack experience, you might need multiple takes during filming to really get into character,” Milo said.

He remembered that she wasn’t known for her acting but for her beauty and sex appeal.

So, Milo said it like this.

“Then, what do you think I should do?” Monica tilted her head, looking at him.

“Keep acting. There are many people in Hollywood who weren’t formally trained but still became successful.” Milo gestured with his hand. “And you’ve already done quite well.”

“So, you’re more or less satisfied with me?” Monica suddenly stopped walking, giving him a playful look.

Her brown eyes seemed to hold a touch of challenge.

She was standing right under a streetlight, her arms crossed as the white light shone on her, the breeze lifting her black hair, making her look exceptionally alluring.

“Basically… I’d say so,” Milo shrugged, his tone flat as if it was hard to read what he meant.

The atmosphere was good, but then she looked up, “So… do you want to sleep with me?”

To her surprise, Milo’s answer was just as direct: “Of course I do. I want it badly. Any man who doesn’t want to sleep with you probably has issues in some area.”

“Wow, you’re… so honest.” After a long pause, she said.

Monica was taken aback. She had expected Milo to be a little more subtle, to pretend a bit.

Because normally, even if men were desperate, they’d still try to act a little reserved to make the woman think they weren’t in such a hurry.

Even if, after all was said and done, it turned out not to be true.

“Thank you. I think honesty is important in front of some people,” Milo smiled faintly.

“Mm…” Monica made a gesture, her mouth slightly open as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.

Finally, her tone took on a hint of sarcasm. “But I heard you have a girlfriend.”

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Monica regretted them.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 20: All Men in the World Are the Same*

As soon as the words left her mouth, Monica regretted it.

She regretted letting her competitive streak take over for just a moment.

So what if he had a girlfriend?

In Hollywood, having a girlfriend—or even being married—didn’t stop people from fooling around.

Maybe not 100%, but probably 99.5%.

And it wasn’t just Hollywood; other industries and places were no different.

What’s more, the handsome young man in front of her wasn’t like the average men chasing her.

He was the owner of a film company—a second-generation wealthy man.

He was someone who could decide whether she landed a role in a big-budget film.

Provoking someone like him would do her no good.

Monica racked her brain, trying to salvage the damage caused by her slip of the tongue and impulsiveness.

But then, she didn’t expect him to say…

“Yes, I have a girlfriend.”

“But men are always greedy. Even when their own plate is full, they can’t help but eye what’s on someone else’s.”

“I still find myself wanting to take from that other plate.”

Milo was frighteningly honest. “Beautiful, sexy women are tempting no matter the time or place.”

Monica opened her mouth, then took a deep breath.

She was slightly relieved she didn’t have to figure out how to backpedal.

He had already done it for her.

Yet for a moment, she felt a little at a loss.

Steadying herself, she managed to reply, “So, what should I say? Feel flattered?”

“Unless you deny your own charm,” Milo replied with a faint smile.

“Thanks, but…”

Monica struggled to regain the upper hand. “If…”

But the man’s actions immediately changed the dynamic.

Milo stepped forward, pulled her into his arms, and pressed her against the nearby lamppost before she could react.

Under the cold white light, she murmured a few protests to show resistance.

Resistance was futile, and Monica soon gave up.

The sound of kisses echoed.

She arched her body backward, one leg lifting to brace against the lamppost, her hands unconsciously wrapping around Milo’s neck.

Finally, Milo released her.

Her chest rose and fell, and her flushed face was bathed in the lamplight.

Apart from glaring at him fiercely, she didn’t know what else to say.

“Absolutely enchanting.”

Milo’s thumb brushed against her reddened lips. “Let’s go back.”

Back?

Back where?

Monica was momentarily confused.

She thought she’d be returning to her tiny one-bedroom apartment in Carson City.

She didn’t want to go back—the living conditions there were far worse than what she had in Italy.

Luckily, she wasn’t heading back to her own place.

She was going back with Milo—to his other house here.

The destination was 1845 Franklin Canyon Drive, just a few minutes’ drive from Sunset Boulevard.

Next to Stone Canyon Reservoir, with picturesque views, it spanned 7,223 square feet (approximately 671.02 square meters).

It was a two-story villa with five bedrooms and 3.5 bathrooms.

This was Milo’s first residence in Los Angeles.

When he first came to LA, this was where he stayed.

Later, Paladin visited him. His brother felt this place, at the foot of the hills, was too small and too close to noisy roads like Sunset Boulevard.

Unwilling to let his brother settle for less, Paladin bought a bigger, better-located house on Crest Drive, 9406, in the hills.

But what Paladin deemed a small, unimpressive villa was, in Monica’s eyes, a super mansion.

No matter its location, it was still in Beverly Hills.

And being close to Sunset Boulevard—a disadvantage for big stars and tycoons—was undeniably an advantage for a Hollywood newcomer like her.

As soon as she arrived, Monica was captivated by the villa.

It proved Milo’s long-held belief: to attract a woman’s attention, one must stand out and be different from other men.

Like being a bad boy, or being humorous, charming, and talented.

Or… having power and wealth.

As the owner of a film company, a second-generation rich kid, someone who could decide her roles, and now offering her a place in Beverly Hills…

Even if it was at the foot of the hills, it was more than enough to break through this Italian beauty’s defenses.

So, in the following days, Milo happily enjoyed his life with Catherine Zeta-Jones in the hills and Monica Bellucci at the foot.

Monica, having fully let go, displayed her Sicilian allure, reminiscent of Malèna, in the bedroom.

Her near-perfect hourglass figure made Milo adore her even more.

And compared to Zeta-Jones, she knew better how to please a man.

Yet Milo proved superior, and after a few rounds, Monica found herself utterly captivated by the pleasures he provided.

Time moved forward, and the day approached for Milo’s first film as producer and director to start shooting.

On August 3, 1995, the movie Angels and Demons began filming at a Disney soundstage.

For the media, Hollywood sees countless movies start or wrap filming every day.

A debut film by an unknown director wasn’t worth much attention.

Even though the male lead was Tommy Lee Jones, a moderately well-known B-list actor at the time, the rest of the cast, including the female lead and supporting roles, were nobodies.

Despite its claimed $60 million budget, most media outlets and the public weren’t interested.

Why care about Tommy Lee Jones when you had Tom Hanks fresh off a Golden Globe win for Forrest Gump?

Or Tom Cruise, who was making waves filming Mission: Impossible?

Or even Michael Jackson, whose repeated hospitalizations made for gripping headlines?

But while the media and public shrugged, the reactions from Hollywood’s top executives were surprisingly unified: *“We need to see what’s going on here!”*

This had little to do with Milo himself.

The real reason was that the chairman of the House Committee on Broadcasting Affairs—a key figure—also happened to have the last name Blackburn.

Coincidentally, so did Milo.

“I don’t know what he’s up to. People say he’s just fooling around and chasing women, but he really did invest $30 million, and Disney confirmed it.”

“They say he’s trying to make money from movies, but he wrote the script, he’s directing, and he’s producing it himself… But before this, everyone knew him as just a playboy, a rich second-generation kid…”

Universal’s intelligence team gave this report to their general manager, Elaine.

A big shot from the East Coast coming here to play around was already absurd.

But now he was actually making a movie himself and investing his own money.

Even Hollywood, a place known for duping Wall Street, found itself at a loss for words.

And that’s exactly how most of the industry’s executives felt right now.

(End of Chapter)