Chapter 67: Quin Got Nothing On Us

I offered to drive her home so we could drop off the gear and get everything unloaded, but Amanda instantly raised her hands in a firm, panicky refusal.

"No, no, no, absolutely not!" she squeaked, shaking her head so hard her ponytail whipped around.

"I am deeply, aggressively anti-privacy when it comes to my home space right now. If a guy in a million-dollar twin-turbo supercar drops me off in front of my house carrying a hundred and forty grand worth of tech, my parents will launch a full-scale FBI investigation. They’ll be speculating about my entire life trajectory before we even hit the front porch. It is so ridiculously annoying."

I stared at her for a second, a soft, dry chuckle escaping me as I tossed the keys in my hand. "At least you’ve got a family to annoy you, Amanda."

She caught the subtle shift in my tone, softening for a brief second before offering a small, appreciative nod.

"Fair enough," I said, stepping back toward the supercar. "I’ll let the white-glove delivery team handle the heavy lifting to your place. Just Face-time me the second you get that monster rig set up and booted. I want to see it lit up."

"Deal!" she called out, clutching her receipt like a golden ticket as she gave a quick wave. "Drive safe, boss!"

I dropped into the low-slung leather driver’s seat, fired up the engine, and let the twin-turbos roar as I pulled away from the curb, leaving her standing there in her Zenith tracksuit.

The drive back up the winding coastal roads to the hillside estate was smooth and quiet. I pulled straight into the underground garage, the heavy vault doors sealing shut behind me as the supercar settled into its spot. Taking the private elevator back up to the main floor, I poured myself a drink and kicked back in the living area, waiting for my phone to ring.

I was sitting in the main living room, swirling the ice in my glass, when the private elevator chimed.

The doors slid open, and Ruby stepped out, looking like she had walked straight off the runway of a high-fashion house. She was wearing a dangerously short, tailored dark dress paired with sheer thigh-high stockings that accentuated every single line of her legs. A couple of high-end luxury designer bags were dangling from her wrist, and her hair was styled to effortless perfection. She didn’t just look good—she looked like an absolute, undeniable star.

"Afternoon, Mister," she said, her voice dropping into that smooth, smoky tone of hers as she strutted into the lounge, the subtle scent of expensive perfume trailing right behind her.

I leaned back against the leather sofa, my eyes tracking her from head to toe. I couldn’t even help the low, sharp glint of raw, dark attraction settling in my gaze as I took her in.

Ruby noticed instantly. A slow, cheeky smirk spread across her lips as she tossed her shopping bags onto the nearby marble counter and did a slow, deliberate spin right in front of me, letting the hem of the dress flare just enough to drive the point home.

"I had a fitting with some top-tier brand stylists today," she murmured, walking over to my chair with a confident, swaying hip movement before leaning down, resting her forearms on the back of the sofa right next to my head. Her eyes locked onto mine, burning with a mix of playful arrogance and genuine heat. "They gave me a few free pieces to take home. So... tell me, Mister. Am I looking perfect enough to be yours yet?"

The sudden, unfiltered directness caught me completely off guard, cutting straight through the heavy, hyper-imaginative atmosphere she usually carried around her.

"Ruby," I said, my voice dropping into a low, quiet rumble as I let my eyes linger on her lips, then down the sharp curve of her thigh-highs before meeting her gaze again. "You’re playing a dangerous game."

She let out a soft, sultry laugh, not backing away even an inch. "I’m just saying... with the way you look at me, and the way you built my entire life back up from nothing? I’m just putting it out there. Even if you end up with a main girl, I wouldn’t mind being wife number two. As long as I’m yours."

Before I could reach up and grab her by the waist, the sudden chime of a video call violently broke the heavy tension in the room. I glanced at my phone screen on the table: Incoming FaceTime from Amanda.

Ruby glanced at the screen, then looked back at me with a mischievous, satisfied wink as she straightened up. "Duty calls, Mister. I’ll go change... unless you want me to stick around?"

"Forget changing," I said, my voice cold and hard as I gestured for her to stay put. "What about your debut singles release? We agreed on dropping it now."

Ruby’s playful demeanor instantly sobered, a shadow of frustration crossing her face. She leaned against the armrest, sighing softly. "Joe Jay called while I was at the fitting. Quin’s biggest mainstream artist just announced a massive surprise concert and album drop for the exact same window. My management team thinks we should push my debut back a few weeks. They’re worried Quin will completely drown out our stream numbers and media coverage."

The moment those words left her mouth, a sudden, heavy wave of translucent golden light burned into my vision.

[System Alert: High-Yield Cashback Locked!]

[Pending Milestone: Ruby Debut Album Drop & Market Takeover]

[Locked Cashback Reward: $111,000,000 (40x Multiplier)]

[Condition: Target must release debut single/album without delay and out-compete corporate rival Quin Media.]

A hundred and eleven million dollars sitting on ice just because some bloated corporate label thought they owned the calendar?

A dark, dangerous laugh escaped my chest as I swiped past Amanda’s ringing FaceTime call, setting the phone screen-down on the marble table. Quin had already tried to trap Ruby in a predatory contract once before. Now they thought they could flex their market dominance to dictate when my artist was allowed to drop?

"No shifting," I said, my eyes locking onto Ruby’s with absolute, unyielding intensity. "We drop on schedule."

Ruby blinked, her lips parting in surprise. "Ethan... Quin is dumping millions into playlist placement and radio buys for this drop. It’s a full-scale corporate push—"

"I don’t care if they’re dumping fifty million," I interrupted, standing up slowly and stepping right into her space, my hand reaching out to firmly cup the side of her waist. "Quin doesn’t run this industry anymore, Ruby. I do. We aren’t hiding in their shadow, and we aren’t waiting for their permission to release your music."

Her breath hitched as she felt my grip tighten slightly, her eyes flashing with a mix of raw thrill and absolute trust.

"We release the raw version right alongside their polished garbage," I growled softly, my thumb skimming over the smooth fabric of her dress. "Let’s see if their corporate money can buy better music than what we just built."