His Muse, Her Meticulous Revenge

"Impossible." Riley was the first to break the silence, her voice dripping with scorn.

"Avalon, get real," Hailey said, shaking her head. "A guy on Julian Thorne's level? Why would he be interested in a scholarship kid who's barely scraping by?"

"Exactly," Madison sneered. "You can't even afford a new set of brushes. What could a man like that possibly see in you?"

A flicker of hope returned to Savannah's eyes. "Avalon, I know you're heartbroken over Rhys," she said, her voice dripping with false sincerity. "But you can't just invent fantasies. Do you have any idea the kind of women Julian Thorne dates? Supermodels, heiresses, A-list actresses."

"Yeah, you're on financial aid. You can barely cover tuition," Riley scoffed. "Why would he want you?"

"Savannah's right. You're delusional," Hailey scoffed.

I met their gazes one by one, saying nothing. To explain would be to show weakness. I didn't need to.

I gathered my portfolio and strode toward the cafe's entrance.

"Avalon!" Savannah called out behind me. "Don't be a fool! Is facing reality that hard?"

I pushed open the heavy glass door. The afternoon sun was blinding.

And there he was. Julian Thorne, leaning against a low-slung, obsidian-black electric sedan that gleamed under the sun. He looked up as I stepped out, and a corner of his mouth lifted in a smile meant only for me.

"There you are, my muse." He crossed the space between us in three long strides, his arm sliding possessively around my waist as he pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.

A sharp, collective gasp rose from the cafe behind me.

I deliberately glanced back through the huge plate-glass window. Savannah and her pack of sycophants were practically plastered to the glass, their mouths agape in disbelief.

Julian opened the passenger door for me. "After you."

I slid gracefully into the car. The interior was all soft, white leather and cool, brushed steel. A bottle of champagne was chilling in an onboard fridge, and the air was scented with an expensive, woody cologne.

As the car pulled away from the curb in complete silence, I took one last look out the window. Savannah's face was still pressed against the glass, her expression utterly shattered.

A small, satisfied smile touched my lips.

"What's so amusing?" Julian asked, his eyes on the road.

"Nothing." I smoothed down the fabric of my dress. "Just an old memory."

Our first stop was a private art gala at a gallery perched high in the Hollywood Hills, packed with LA's elite: tech moguls, film producers, and old-money families, all of them vying for a moment of Julian's time.

Julian's hand never left the small of my back. The gesture was possessive, territorial—a clear declaration to anyone watching. A few scantily clad women attempted to catch his eye, but he dismissed them with a coldness that was almost brutal.

"Mr. Thorne!" A portly, well-dressed gallery owner scurried over. "Such an honor! We'd all but given up hope you would grace us with your presence."

"I'm only here because my muse wished to see the paintings," Julian stated, his gaze fixed on me.

Muse. The word hung in the air, sending a fresh ripple of whispers through the room. I could feel dozens of eyes on me.

"Julian," I tugged on his sleeve, playing my part. "I want to see the Rothko."

"Lead the way, Avalon."

We stopped before a massive canvas of deep, pulsating crimson, perfectly lit.

"It's breathtaking," I said softly.

Julian barely glanced at it. "I'd rather look at you."

I rolled my eyes, but couldn't suppress a small smile.

"Avalon?" A familiar voice cut through the noise, and a chill snaked down my spine.

I turned.

It was Savannah. Here. Poured into a tight red dress, clinging to the arm of a man who looked like he'd just made a fortune in cryptocurrency.

"What a coincidence!" Savannah beamed, her eyes sliding right past me to devour Julian.

"You must be Julian Thorne." She extended a perfectly manicured hand. "I'm Savannah Reed. Avalon's best friend."

Julian glanced at her outstretched hand as if it were a piece of garbage, then completely ignored it.

"I know who you are," he said, his voice flat.

Savannah's smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she recovered. "I've heard so much about you. Perhaps we could get a drink sometime? I'd love to pick your brain about the innovations at Thorne Dynamics…"

"No," Julian cut her off, the single word sharp as a scalpel.

The crypto bro at Savannah's side began to sweat. "Honey, let's go look at the sculptures," he mumbled, tugging at her arm.

"Wait." Savannah ignored him, taking a step closer to Julian. "I don't mean to be forward, it's just…"

"You have five seconds to remove yourself from my presence before my security escorts you out," Julian said, his voice a blade's edge.

Savannah went pale. The crypto bro practically dragged her away.

I watched them retreat, my expression carefully neutral. Inside, my mind was racing, planning every next move.

Julian turned to me, his brow furrowed. "I don't like her."

"She's not so bad," I said, feigning loyalty. "Just a little… enthusiastic."

He studied my face for a long moment. "You're too kind."

"Maybe."

Julian waved over a man in a headset. "Contact her agent. Draft a contract for Thorne Dynamics to exclusively sponsor Miss Hayes's work for the next three years."

The assistant immediately began tapping on a tablet.

"A sponsorship? Now?" I asked, affecting surprise.

"Of course." Julian's gaze was intense as he reached up to gently caress my cheek. "No one is allowed to ruin our evening. Consider this multi-million dollar contract my apology for the interruption."

The surrounding guests stared, their faces a mixture of envy and awe. A multi-million dollar sponsorship, sealed with a word.

I smiled, my gaze locking with Savannah's across the room as she was being hurried away. Her face was ashen, a mask of humiliation.

Any other man would have played along, rejecting Savannah for my benefit while secretly pocketing her number for later. I could always see the flicker of desire in their eyes.

She thought all men were the same.

That was her mistake. She had just met Julian Thorne. A man addicted not to women, but to absolute control.