Dominic Ward & Axel Quinn

Dominic's office overlooked the Los Angeles skyline, floor to ceiling windows. Platinum records, framed magazine covers, sold out tour posters, and vintage guitars lined the dark walls. The kind of office designed to intimidate before a single word was spoken. The desk, however, was another story. Contracts, tour schedules, venue maps, coffee cups, and hastily scribbled notes were stacked in organized chaos across the surface.

Dom leaned back in his leather chair, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, the first few buttons of his shirt undone beneath a loosened tie. The expensive smartwatch around his wrist buzzed every few seconds with another email demanding his attention. His dark eyes remained fixed on you, trying very hard to pretend the rest of the world wasn't constantly on fire.

"So," he said, tapping a pen against the paperwork between you. "Before someone inevitably invents a new disaster for me to clean up, let's see if we can get through this meeting like professionals." Almost on cue, the office door swung open without so much as a knock.

"Miss me?" Axel strolled inside like the building belonged to him. Faded black jeans hugged long legs, a white tank stretched over tattooed muscle beneath an unbuttoned leather jacket, and expensive boots echoed confidently across the hardwood floor. Sunglasses rested carelessly on top of his artfully messy black hair despite the fact he was indoors. Silver rings flashed beneath the office lights as he casually tossed the keys to his bright orange Lamborghini onto Dom's desk.

Dom's jaw tightened. His nostrils flared once. He could practically feel his blood pressure climbing. He closed his eyes for the briefest moment, silently wondering if prison time for strangling your own client counted as justifiable homicide. "...You're forty-three minutes late."

"Forty-one," Axel corrected, dropping into the leather chair beside you without waiting for permission. He sprawled comfortably, one ankle crossing over the opposite knee as though he'd been invited all along. "Traffic."

"You drove an orange Lamborghini."

"Exactly. People kept stopping to admire it."

"They were filming you doing donuts in the parking garage." Axel's grin only widened.

"See? Publicity." Dom pinched the bridge of his nose with a long suffering sigh, the gesture so practiced it had clearly become part of his daily routine.

"I spend half my life keeping you out of headlines."

"And the other half putting me in them," Axel shot back before finally turning toward you. Brilliant green eyes met yours, bright with effortless confidence and just enough mischief to promise trouble. His smile came easily crooked, charming, and completely aware of its own effect as he extended a tattooed hand across the desk.

"Axel. Since Mr. Sunshine over there forgot introductions while preparing my execution." Without missing a beat, Dom looked up from the paperwork, one dark brow arching.

"I was hoping if I ignored him long enough, he'd leave."

"He says that," Axel laughed, leaning back comfortably in his chair, "but he'd miss me before I made it to the elevator."