Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm
Chapter 22 - : The Gala at the Savoy
Entertainment: Starting as a Succubus, Taking Hollywood by Storm - Chapter 22 - : The Gala at the Savoy
Chapter 22 - 22: The Gala at the Savoy
Chapter 22: The Gala at the Savoy
The remaining scenes wrapped up swiftly. Martin, increasingly at ease in his role, seemed to reach new heights with each take. His performance grew so intense and authentic that even Natasha Richardson occasionally found herself struggling to keep up, resulting in more than a few retakes.
Nancy watched with pride, convinced that this film would be not only a landmark in her career but also a defining work for Martin.
Three days later, the London scenes were fully completed, leaving only the Los Angeles sequences. Before their return, Nancy took Martin to visit Grant Brooks' studio in London, hoping to secure a music deal. But upon arrival, they were told that Brooks was "out visiting friends."
Martin frowned. "Something feels off. We'd just confirmed with his secretary yesterday. He knew we were coming, yet he suddenly decided to visit a friend?"
Nancy, surprised, replied, "But we're here on Diana's recommendation."
Martin's gaze darkened. "Perhaps that's exactly why."
Nancy, sharp as ever, caught on immediately. "You think he's avoiding us because of Diana? Is this because of Prince Charles... or Camilla?"
"Possibly," Martin replied, sighing. "Then again, maybe I'm just being paranoid. Let's go, Aunt Nancy."
"But what about your music?"
"There's a saying in Chinese: 'Good wine needs no bush.' If my music is good, it'll find an audience. And as for Brooks, he's just one producer. We don't need him."
Nancy pursed her lips and nodded. "You're right. He'll regret this."
Returning to the hotel, Nancy was still stewing over the matter. She was tempted to go straight upstairs and complain to Dianaโnot to seek "justice," but simply to express her frustration. But Martin stopped her.
"No need, Aunt Nancy. It'll only make things harder for Diana."
Yet even before they could decide whether to tell Diana, she appeared downstairs with her assistant, Mary.
"A charity gala tomorrow night?" Nancy's eyes lit up as Diana extended the invitation.
"Yes, and Grant should be there too. I can introduce you both."
Martin and Nancy exchanged glances; it was obvious Brooks hadn't told Diana about their failed meeting.
Martin nodded graciously. "We'd be honored to join you, Diana."
After Diana left, Nancy glanced at Martin with a knowing look. "You're not planning something, are you?"
Martin raised an eyebrow. "Now, would I do that?"
Nancy sighed. "Looks like we'll be extending our stay in London a bit longer."
...
Grant Brooks received Diana's call while lounging on the couch in his office, his young assistant at his side. As soon as he hung up, he scowled, remembering Camilla's recent words.
"Grant," she'd said coldly, "we know you have connections in England's music world, and we also know that she once hosted those charity events and introduced you to people. But that's all in the past. She's no longer a princess, and both Charles and I dislike her. You need to decide where you stand."
Grant had already made his decision. Diana's influence, in his view, was fading fast. It wasn't worth angering Charles and Camilla over someone who had nothing left to offer him.
Still, he wasn't foolish enough to alienate her publicly. He owed much of his reputation to Diana. But now? Helping a boy from America whom Diana described as having "extraordinary musical talent" and arranging for the release of his EP? Was she out of her mind?
All the same, he planned to attend her galaโit was still an opportunity to network with people who mattered.
Interrupting his thoughts, the assistant beside him pouted impatiently. "Are you going to keep me waiting?"
With a frustrated sigh, Grant attempted to refocus on her but found himself too preoccupied. After several attempts, he finally gave up and shoved her away. "Get out. I've got work to do."
Scowling, she gathered her things and stormed out, leaving Grant muttering angrily to himself.
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...
The night of the gala arrived.
Under the grand arches of the Savoy Hotel, distinguished guests poured in. This historic hotel, a beloved haunt of British royalty, politicians, and aristocrats, had long served as a luxurious haven for those with power and wealth. Since its founding over a century ago, it had hosted legends from Monet, Elizabeth Taylor, and Audrey Hepburn to Churchill and Sun Yat-sen.
For many, the Savoy had witnessed more drama than the neighboring Savoy Theatre. Tonight was no exception.
As Martin and Nancy stepped through its grand doors, they were surrounded by Europe's elite: aristocrats, artists, and celebrities of every caliber. Among the familiar faces, Martin caught sight of a youthful David Beckham, still in his early twenties, and Isabelle Adjani, whose timeless beauty captivated every glance. Representatives from Europe's wealthiest dynastiesโthe Ferreros, the Rubens, and the Ottosโmingled nearby.
Then, he spotted his "nephews": Princes William and Harry, deep in conversation. With a mischievous grin, Martin strolled over to introduce himself.
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