"You've always been my idol, Miss Ciccone…"
"Madonna!"
Madonna across from him reminded him, so Duke had to change his address, "Miss Madonna, you've always been my idol. I really liked your songs back in high school."
"What about now? Do you not like them anymore?"
Ignoring the other people in the banquet hall, Madonna, dressed in a low-cut, high-slit evening gown with a corset belt, stepped closer. Duke discreetly frowned; he hadn't expected that after socializing around the banquet hall with his mother, when he tried to act independently, the representative of "The Material Girl" would block him, looking extremely interested.
"You are the global pop idol…"
At this point, Duke suddenly felt a finger from Madonna drawing circles around his strong chest muscles through his thin shirt.
This boldness was notorious throughout America. Duke didn't want to cause any disrespect in public, especially with his mother nearby. He quickly stepped back to create some distance.
"Please be mindful of the occasion!" he whispered sharply.
Madonna suddenly laughed, tilting her head slightly as if she were a hunter admiring the most delicious prey, her gaze roaming over Duke as if she could pounce at any moment, especially if no one else was around.
Duke's frown deepened. Usually, he was the one looking at beautiful women like that; now the roles were reversed, and he felt extremely uncomfortable.
Of course, it also had to do with who it was. If the person in front of him weren't Madonna, he wouldn't feel this way.
People in the industry knew very well that Madonna was a standard bisexual. As once described, she lived a life filled with suitors and always seemed particularly dominant, making such women unlikely to attract strong men's affection.
Moreover, in the banquet hall, the angels had removed their stage makeup and donned exquisite evening looks, making them much more attractive than Madonna.
"I just want to play a game with you."
Perhaps seeing Inno Martin approaching, Madonna leaned in a little and whispered before turning to leave.
Watching her petite figure walk away, Duke's displeasure flashed but quickly faded. When Inno Martin extended his hand, he put on a smile again.
They chatted about "Saving Private Ryan" for a bit, and then Inno Martin suggested, "It's a bit chaotic here; shall we change places?"
Presumably, he had something important to discuss. Duke nodded, and the two left the banquet hall, turned down a hallway, and took an elevator to the upper floor, casually requesting a lounge.
Sitting on separate single sofas, Inno Martin didn't waste any time and got straight to the point. "Duke, I wonder what you think about CAA and Martin Bob?"
Duke smiled faintly but didn't answer. Instead, he looked at Inno Martin.
"Let me be frank. I have a conflict of interest with Martin Bob at CAA." Inno Martin wasn't a fool; he first addressed his own situation. "After Michael Ovitz stepped down, I was one of the most likely candidates to take over CAA. His performance isn't stronger than mine, but I can't compare with his seniority, so I lost the competition."
"I've heard about it."
Duke had heard some details about the fierce internal competition at CAA last year from Nancy. "Go on."
Though their interactions had been few, he knew that Inno Martin had achieved considerable success in Hollywood and had repeatedly triumphed in fierce competition. The young director in front of him was definitely not an ordinary person.
"It seems you haven't paid attention to the media's publicity, or perhaps you haven't heard," Inno Martin smiled mysteriously. "Martin Bob's packaged project for Paramount, directed by Mel Gibson, 'Braveheart,' is set to release on Memorial Day weekend. Viacom's media has been generating buzz for a while."
He paused, his smile becoming radiant. "I heard from Tom that 'Saving Private Ryan' is also planning to release around that time?"
"Exactly!" Duke nodded.
His expression remained unchanged, showing no concern. Although he hadn't paid attention to the information Inno Martin mentioned, it wasn't something he cared about. He assumed Warner and Fox hadn't informed him because they didn't think it necessary, given that he was now a top-tier commercial director, while Mel Gibson was merely a newcomer.
"I'd love to see Martin Bob's project fail," Inno Martin said nonchalantly. "Every failure of his reduces capital. Michael Ovitz led CAA for over a decade; I don't want to wait another ten years for Martin Bob"
Duke chuckled but still said nothing.
"Martin Bob is your enemy, Duke!" Inno Martin locked eyes with him. "As long as he controls CAA, he will be a potential threat to you…"
Raising his hand, Duke interrupted Inno Martin, using a calm tone. "What substantial benefits do I gain?"
Talking about friends and enemies was all vague; if the profits were large enough, he could easily collaborate with Martin Bob After all, Bob had been in Hollywood for years and would likely have the same thought.
The expressions of both men grew serious, their voices dropping lower until only they could hear.
On this floor, as the elevator just opened, Madonna Ciccone appeared with a man, laughing as they walked out. They turned towards the lounge. Just as they rounded the corner, Madonna, who had been gazing at her companion, suddenly brightened her eyes upon seeing Duke Rosenberg about ten feet away.
The middle-aged man she recognized, Inno Martin, the famous CAA agent, while the younger man was Duke Rosenberg, who had sparked her interest at the banquet hall…
Inno Martin walked towards the other side of the hallway, while Duke Rosenberg, facing away, stood at the open door of a lounge, seemingly giving a tip to a server.
Madonna let go of her male companion's arm and coldly said, "Hugh Grant, you can leave!"
"Why…?" the man was confused.
"Do you think you compare to Duke Rosenberg in any way?"
Leaving that cold remark, Madonna walked past him without looking back, heading straight for the tall, muscular figure.
Duke was flipping through his wallet, searching for change when suddenly a delicate hand reached out from behind, shoving a large bill into the server's hand. "No change needed."
"Thank you!"
The server was quite perceptive and turned to leave immediately.
Duke raised his head, about to see who it was when he was pushed forward. With a body that belied her small stature, Madonna had a surprising amount of strength. Caught off guard, he was pushed into the lounge as the door slammed shut behind him, and a petite, fiery figure pressed against him.
In that brief moment, Duke recognized who had come. He hadn't expected Madonna Ciccone to relentlessly track him down here.
He grasped her arms, slowly pulling her away from his body.
"How rude to treat a beautiful lady like this," Madonna gazed into his eyes, her gaze revealing unabashed flames. "Don't you think that's too disrespectful?"
"That depends on the person!" Duke's voice turned cold.
Madonna's body twisted, resembling a beautiful serpent trying to escape his grip. Duke tightened his hold; by all accounts, he could have inflicted considerable pain. But Madonna only laughed.
"I like your roughness. Do it harder!"
Her tongue slid across her lips a few times before she suddenly turned and bit down hard on Duke's left wrist. Even through the fabric of his jacket and shirt, he felt a sharp pain. The annoyance he had felt since being entangled with her in the banquet hall flared into anger.
Fortunately, he remembered that she was a woman, and his upbringing instinctively reminded him not to go too far. He only used a bit more force to push Madonna away.
The pop diva stumbled back several steps. Perhaps due to her high heels, her left foot twisted, and she fell onto the carpet.
"Yes, just like that!"
Instead of getting angry, Madonna laughed, her tongue sliding over her teeth as if savoring something. "Your taste is quite nice! I want to taste your blood!"
Duke felt a chill run down his spine. Before he could respond, Madonna kicked off her high heels and stood up, "Duke, why don't we play a game?"
"Do you really enjoy playing this kind of game?" Duke had already guessed the meaning of her game.
Madonna placed her hands on her hips, walking closer as she undid the small belt that matched her evening gown. Holding the belt buckle in her right hand, she ran her left hand slowly along the belt, wearing an intensely obsessed expression.
The distance between them was not far; Madonna gradually approached Duke, her smile innocent as a girl's. Her petite figure looked weaker than an angel's in contrast to Duke's tall and stern presence, which resembled a cold marble statue of a devil.
However, in Hollywood, perhaps the devil was indeed the devil, but angels would never be angels!
As she drew closer, Madonna suddenly raised her right hand, lifting the small belt as if Duke had become her most delicious food.
Perhaps others would hesitate to act against Madonna due to her fame; perhaps some men would find it amusing to play such a game with the queen of pop; or perhaps others would enjoy the process…
But Duke definitely wasn't among them!
Before Madonna's arm could drop, Duke stepped forward, gripping her wrist, his other hand grasping her shoulder and twisting it, forcing her hand behind her back. He applied strength, pushing her down onto the back of a chair.
Just like when he was a quarterback in college, Duke was agile, quick and powerful. In just a dozen seconds, he twisted Madonna's hands to her lower abdomen and tied them tightly with the belt. Then he ripped open her thin evening dress, tore it into two strips, and unceremoniously tied her to the back of a high-back chair with her back facing him.
"You're going to enjoy this game, Miss Madonna!"
"Come on then!"
Madonna's voice was trembling, whether out of excitement or fear.
Duke untied the belt around his waist, folded it in half and held it in his hand. His cold eyes stared at Madonna's back.