We require only 17 additional Power Stone donors, only 5 more reviews, and 500 more collections and newly added Discord 5 more members to unlock the next bonus chapters.
Get those stones going boys and tomboys, we need to get those numbers up!
Join my Patreon
GodofPleasure
(dot)com/GodofPleasure
****
Marvin was still only a few steps from the food table. He'd been trying to get something to eat all evening, but every time he got close, someone found him first.
Now, finally, he was back at the buffet.
He reached for a small plate.
"Let me go!"
Marvin's hand stopped in midair. He closed his eyes for a second.
The voice was familiar. Very familiar.
Charlize?
He opened his eyes and looked toward the terrace.
Was she even on Miramax's guest list?
He listened.
The noise of the party rolled on around him—music, glasses, scattered laughter—but the voice came again from somewhere beyond the main room, sharper this time.
"Let me go!"
Definitely Charlize.
Marvin looked at the plate a few inches away that remained untouched, and then at the buffet spread before him. He hadn't even managed to take the damn plate yet.
He let out a slow breath. "Fat fucker really wants to eat all of it."
He pulled his hand, leaving the food behind once again, and turned toward the terrace.
Whatever was happening here had apparently decided that Marvin wasn't allowed to eat tonight.
Marvin headed toward the darker corner beyond the main room, following the sound of her voice.
He moved through the guests without drawing attention, passing behind a column and then a towering arrangement of flowers that nearly blocked the view of the terrace, his hearing already locked onto the frequency..
He stopped just before the edge of it.
Behind a gold curtain at the end of the corridor, Ben Affleck had Charlize's backed into the narrow space between the wall and the terrace doors. One hand was locked around her wrist.
His tie was loose. His cheeks were flushed from Scotch. Whatever charm he had been wearing for the party had disappeared.
"Charlize, come on."
"Let go."
"I'm trying to help you."
"You call this helping?"
Ben gave a short, humorless laugh. "Jesus. Don't make this harder than it has to be."
She pulled against his grip. "You're hurting me."
He loosened his fingers for barely a second before tightening them again. "You think you're too good for this town?"
Charlize stared at him. "I think I'm too good for this conversation."
Ben leaned closer. "Don't play innocent with me."
"I'm not."
"Tyler told me plenty."
Her expression hardened. "Tyler Hackford?"
"Yeah."
"Then you should ask him why he's talking about me."
Ben shrugged. "He said you're ambitious. Said you know exactly what you want. You're not as chaste and untouched as you played."
"I do."
"Good. Then we're on the same page."
"We're not even in the same book."
His mouth twitched. "You've got a funny way of showing gratitude."
"For what?"
"For what I'm offering you."
"I didn't ask for anything."
"That's not the point."
Ben glanced toward the ballroom before lowering his voice. "Miramax can put money behind your picture. Harvey can get people behind you. Press, critics, voters—whatever you need when the time comes. You know how hard it is to get that kind of support."
Charlize's jaw tightened. "And what's the price?"
Ben looked at her for a moment. "You already know."
"No. Say it."
He hesitated. "Don't make me spell it out."
"Because you know how disgusting it sounds."
"Jesus, Charlize." He rubbed his forehead.
"It's one night."
"No."
"With Harvey."
"No."
"You don't even have to like him."
She stared at him in disbelief. "That makes it better?"
"It's business."
"No. It's you using business to dress up something filthy."
"Why are you reacting so violently? It's the cost of doing business. It's not like you haven't done this kind of thing before to get ahead."
"You don't know anything about me," Charlize hissed.
"I know exactly who you are, sweetheart. We're the exact same kind of people. The kind who'll do absolutely anything for success. There's a golden opportunity right in front of you. Millions of dollars. An Oscar campaign. Don't stand there and tell me you don't want it."
"I don't want it!" Charlize hesitated for a fraction of a second, the weight of the offer hanging in the air, before speaking with unwavering firmness.
She didn't want to serve Harvey Weinstein, that fat, sweating pig. And she knew exactly how these things worked; it might not even be just him! Ben was probably expecting a turn for brokering the deal.
Unless there were no other options left on earth, who would willingly choose such disgusting humiliation?
And Marvin—that terrifyingly handsome, brilliantly clear-headed little man—had just shown her another way out.
Ben's face darkened. "You think everybody gets where they're going without paying something?"
"I know people pay. I'm just not paying you."
He laughed under his breath. "You really think Marvin Meyers is going to save you?"
At the name, something shifted in Charlize's expression. Not fear. Certainty.
"You don't know Marvin."
"I know enough."
"No, you don't."
"He's a kid with a couple of hot scripts and rich parents."
"He's offered to finance my film."
Ben's eyebrows lifted. "And you believe that?"
"I believe him more than I believe you."
That landed.
Ben's smile disappeared. "Charlize, I'm giving you a chance here."
"No. You're giving yourself a chance."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"It means you're not doing this for me."
She finally stopped struggling.
Her voice became quieter. "You're doing it because Harvey wants something and you want to be the man who delivers it."
Ben stared at her.
For several seconds neither spoke.
Then he grabbed her arm again and pulled her toward him. "You have no idea how this town works."
Charlize's eyes dropped briefly to his hand. "Take your hand off me."
"Or what?"
"Or you're going to regret it."
Ben scoffed. "You're going to threaten me now?"
"I've warned you."
He yanked her closer.
Frustrated and drunk on his own perceived power, Ben yanked her arm roughly, pulling her off balance. With his free hand, he tries to grab her breast.
This guy had always possessed a notoriously bad temper when denied!
"I'm going to see exactly what kind of desperate woman you really are!" Ben sneered, his breath reeking of scotch.
Charlize froze.
Then her face changed.
Charlize Theron wasn't someone easy to mess with. She had grown up in South Africa.
There was no panic in it. Only anger. She planted her feet and struck him. The slap cracked through the narrow corridor.
Ben's head snapped sideways. For a moment he simply stood there.
Charlize's chest rose and fell as she stared at him. A red mark spread across his cheek.
Ben slowly turned his head back. "You fucking bitch."
Charlize didn't move.
"Walk away."
"You hit me. You put your hands on me, you whore." His eyes narrowed. "You think you can do that and just walk away?"
"I think you should try." He stepped toward her.
"You have no idea who you're dealing with."
Charlize held his stare. "I know exactly who I'm dealing with."
Ben's face twisted. Whatever restraint he had left disappeared. "You're going to learn—"
His fist came up. He never got the chance to bring it down.
A hand closed around his wrist.
Ben stopped dead. Marvin stood between them.
His grip looked almost casual, but Ben couldn't move. He pulled instinctively, first with his arm, then with his entire body.
Nothing. Marvin didn't even shift his feet.
"Marvin," Charlize breathed. There was surprise in her voice, followed by something much closer to relief.
Marvin kept his eyes on Ben. "I'm here."
Charlize swallowed and took a step back, rubbing her wrist where Ben had held her.
Marvin's gaze dropped to the red marks appearing around her skin. Something in his expression hardened.
"Are you all right?"
"I'm fine."
She wasn't. Her voice was steady, but her breathing hadn't settled.
Marvin looked back at Ben, his expression was calm. Far too calm. "You've got about five seconds to explain why you're holding her."
Ben stared at the hand around his wrist. "Let go."
Marvin's expression didn't change. "That's not an explanation."
"Jesus Christ, man. We were talking."
"She asked you to let her go."
Ben's mouth opened. Nothing came out.
Marvin stared coldly at Ben Affleck. His eyes were dead, devoid of human empathy. The aura shifted and flared, filling the small space with a suffocating pressure that made the air feel freezing cold.
Marvin tightened his fingers.
Ben's knees buckled. "Fuck!"
The sound came out before he could stop it.
Charlize flinched at the sudden movement.
Marvin released just enough pressure to keep Ben standing.
"I'll ask again." His voice remained quiet. "What were you doing?"
Ben's eyes darted toward Charlize. "She misunderstood."
Charlize gave a short, disbelieving laugh. "Did I?"
Ben glared at her.
Marvin's grip tightened again.
Ben's face drained. "Okay. Okay." He sucked in a breath. "I was trying to convince her to take a meeting with Harvey."
"By grabbing her?"
"No."
Charlize looked at him. "You were."
Ben's jaw tightened. "She was being difficult."
Marvin stared at him. "That's your excuse?"
"You don't understand how this works."
"I understand perfectly."
Marvin stepped closer.
Ben instinctively stepped back, but the hand holding his wrist stopped him.
"She said no."
Ben swallowed. "Yeah."
"Then you walk away."
"It's not that simple."
"It is."
Marvin's eyes settled on him.
"You wanted something from her. She refused. You decided that gave you the right to put your hands on her."
Ben's face reddened. "You're making this into something it isn't."
Charlize rubbed her wrist again. "No, he's not."
Ben looked at her. "You shut up."
Marvin's expression went completely still. "Don't speak to her like that."
Ben looked back at him.
For the first time, the anger in his face gave way to uncertainty.
There was something wrong with Marvin.
Not visibly.
He looked exactly as he always did—young, composed, almost absurdly calm.
But Ben couldn't shake the feeling that he was standing far too close to something he didn't understand.
"Marvin," he said, trying to regain some authority, "you're making a mistake."
"Am I?"
"You don't want trouble with me."
A faint smile touched Marvin's mouth. "I think you've misunderstood the situation."
He released Ben's wrist.
Ben immediately stumbled backward, clutching it against his chest.
Marvin didn't follow him.
He didn't need to.
"You came into a private corner of a party," Marvin said, "put your hands on a woman who told you to stop, and then tried to hit her."
Ben's breathing was heavy. "You're threatening me?"
"No." Marvin glanced at Charlize. "I'm telling you what happened."
Charlize's eyes stayed on him. The fear was gone now, replaced by something far stronger. Every time he spoke with that quiet, commanding certainty, the feeling only deepened, tangled with the strange sense of trust she'd felt toward him earlier.
Ben rubbed his wrist. "You think this is going to make Harvey happy?"
Marvin finally looked at him. "I couldn't care less what makes Harvey happy."
That silenced Ben.
For a moment, neither man moved.
Then Marvin took a step toward him.
"We were just talking," Ben said quickly. "I'm trying to get her to take a meeting."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
Marvin's eyes hardened.
"We were talking. That's it." Ben's jaw tightened. "Look, man, Harvey wants to meet her. I'm just trying to—"
"Yeah?" Marvin asked, applying a fraction more pressure, causing Ben to wince and drop to his knees in agony. "With your fists? By grabbing her? Maybe... I can try that exact kind of persuasion on you, Ben. See how you like it!"
Marvin's eyes grew colder still, the blue darkening to pitch black as the demon beneath the skin looked out at the pathetic man.
---
Matt Damon hurried out of the marble-lined bathroom, weaving his way back into the crowded hall, dodging waiters carrying silver trays of caviar. Earlier, he had struck a tactical deal with Ben Affleck.
It had seemed like a simple enough arrangement.
Matt kept watch near the terrace doors, ensuring she ended up in Weinstein's private company. It was the kind of dirty, transactional favor that kept them in the studio boss's good graces.
Neither of them particularly liked the job.
But Harvey was Harvey.
And when a man like that wanted something, actors learned quickly that saying no wasn't always the smartest career move.
Unfortunately, Matt's stomach had chosen that particular moment to revolt.
The slice of leftover pepperoni pizza he'd grabbed during lunch had seemed harmless at the time.
Now it felt like a personal attack.
When he finally emerged from the bathroom, he was still rubbing his stomach.
"Jesus." He hurried back toward the ballroom.
The party was still in full swing. Waiters moved between the guests with silver trays of champagne and caviar, conversations overlapping beneath the music, people laughing as though nobody in the building had a care in the world.
****
Join my Discord...
(Discord dot gg slash 2MfM9J7dBj)
Join my Patreon
GodofPleasure
(dot)com slash GodofPleasure