Chapter 338: Counterattack

Duke picked up his coffee cup and took an unhurried sip, waiting for Donald Trump to persuade him. The man was a textbook businessman. He had to know that empty promises were useless. At their level, people didn't yield unless they saw foreseeable benefits.

There might be idiots in this world, or people who would slap their foreheads and make a snap decision after an impassioned speech, but those people never achieved much. Only one fate awaited them: getting sold out and helping the one who sold them count the cash.

To put it bluntly, this was a commercial arena defined by mutual deceit, not kids playing house and sharing candy.

Duke looked at Donald Trump. The real estate tycoon weighed his words for a moment before speaking again.

"I'm currently preparing a reality show with the NBC Television Network. Before the film is released, I'll produce targeted content for it."

After saying this, he looked at Duke. Seeing that the young director was completely unmoved, he continued.

"Starting a month before the premiere, you can take your pick of all the billboards on every Trump Building, Trump Hotel, and Trump Resort Manor across the United States. For a month before the release and a month after, I won't charge a cent in advertising fees."

Hearing the latter half, Duke's eyes gradually lit up. Just like the Trump Building in Manhattan, most of Donald Trump's towers and properties were located in the prime real estate of major cities across the country. The advertising value of those spots went without saying.

For decades now, a film's success had no longer relied solely on finishing the shoot and guaranteeing its quality. Hollywood had plenty of talented directors, and countless numbers had faded into obscurity. If any director wanted their work to succeed, it was impossible without targeted promotion.

Never mind The Lord of the Rings trilogy; even James Cameron's blockbuster about humanity playing the villain was a textbook case of marketing and promotion.

Trading a hosting gig for billboard space in prime locations across the country—it was hard to say who got the better end of the deal. They were simply taking what they needed.

Duke considered it for a moment before speaking.

"Donald, this is a joint event with multiple parties. I don't have the power to make this decision alone."

Donald Trump immediately laughed.

"I can wait. I've always been a very patient man."

Even if they were just adding a male host, Duke still needed to discuss it with Warner Brothers and Victoria's Secret.

This wasn't a world where he could just do whatever he wanted. He didn't possess an aura that lowered everyone else's IQ, nor was he the center of the universe.

With a preliminary agreement reached, the rest of the dinner was exceptionally harmonious. Donald Trump even opened a vintage bottle of red wine, though unfortunately, a guy like Duke couldn't tell a good wine from a bad one at all...

After dinner, Duke didn't linger at the Trump Building and soon headed out.

"Thank you."

Hearing the sudden words from Ivanka Trump, who had walked him out, Duke shook his head.

"No need to thank me. It has nothing to do with you."

Coming from a business family, Ivanka naturally understood this.

"Even though we haven't spent much time together, I can tell that the moment you set down the camera, you're a textbook businessman. You don't mix personal factors into a business negotiation."

"As long as you understand."

Pulling open the car door, Duke turned back to say one last thing before getting in.

"Since you've chosen to enter the business world, you'd best keep that in mind."

"Yeah, I'll remember."

Once Duke was in the car, she waved at him. The black Bentley gradually disappeared into the flow of Manhattan traffic.

Back at the Waldorf Grand Hotel, Duke had Penny Kalis contact the executives at Warner Brothers and Victoria's Secret. Warner Brothers agreed readily enough, and Victoria's Secret upper management passed the resolution the following morning. Donald Trump immediately joined the final preparations for the super show.

As the date of the super show drew closer, Duke made frequent public appearances. Although he never said anything to the media, he became a prime target for the paparazzi.

It was hard not to attract media attention when you were the director of a 350-million-dollar film project.

During his first few days back in New York, Duke didn't want to bring the press to his mother's door, so he only visited home for a few hours. He spent most of his time coordinating with Victoria's Secret. They were the focal point of the show.

The costumes specially shipped from New Zealand had long since been delivered to Victoria's Secret, and the top supermodels were busy adapting to the new styles. Donald Trump was also coordinating with them. Behind every successful show and host lay a massive amount of advance preparation.

"This is a very unique feeling."

Chatting with Donald Trump, Duke walked into the photo hall Victoria's Secret had prepared. Cameramen from several Warner media outlets were already waiting. However, they were nothing special; what truly caught the eye was the group directly across from them.

Duke looked over and felt a slight wave of dizziness.

"Donald, every man alive is going to envy us to death."

"Don't say that, Duke," Donald Trump said, seemingly accustomed to such a spectacle. "When you reach my age, you'll realize that an experience like this is a precious treasure."

Duke paused to have a final word with Penny Kalis as she walked up to greet them.

The super show wasn't just a one-day event. From now on, they had to make frequent media appearances to build hype for the grand finale.

Directly opposite Duke and Donald Trump, the Victoria's Secret angels stood with curled hair and flushed cheeks, looking as mesmerizing as if they had just experienced perfect sex.

The dozen or so angels wore matching Victoria's Secret & The Lord of the Rings cropped T-shirts. Their legs were clad in tight-fitting blue or dark blue low-rise jeans, and their feet were strapped into four-inch black heeled boots. Revealing slender waists and astonishingly long legs, they were natural eye-magnets.

"Hi, Donald."

"Hi, Director Rosenberg."

As the two men passed by on their way to the dressing room, the angels actively greeted them.

Makeup was mandatory when shooting with professional photographers. After changing into a white shirt and blue jeans, Duke joined the lineup of angels alongside an all-black-clad Donald Trump to shoot promotional photos for the super show, which was now five days away.

Organizing any show was no simple task. But if it meant generating attention to ensure a massive box-office hit, Duke never minded stepping in front of the camera himself.

Besides, standing amidst a crowd of Victoria's Secret angels for a group photo wasn't exactly grueling work.

Duke knew nothing about posing, so he completely followed the stylist's directions. Fortunately, as both a director and a former extra, his camera sense was flawless.

The professionalism of the Victoria's Secret angels went without saying, and Donald Trump was also a master at putting on a show.

After shooting continuously for over half an hour, the stylist called Donald Trump away for solo shots, shifting the focus to Duke and the angels.

Following the stylist's directions, Duke stood with his arms crossed over his chest while a dozen models formed a semicircle around him. This was a crucial part of the promotional design—Director Duke Rosenberg and his elf angels...

Even after the shoot wrapped up, the angels showed no intention of dispersing.

"Long time no see, Duke."

Heidi Klum, the current leading figure among the angels, walked over to greet him.

"I didn't expect us to have a chance to work together again."

"Hi, Heidi." Duke gently shook her extended hand.

"You look even more beautiful."

In truth, like most women of Germanic descent, Heidi Klum was aging quite rapidly. As a major shareholder and board member, Duke was well aware that Victoria's Secret upper management was preparing to terminate her contract after next year's grand show.

Modeling was a youth-driven profession, and the speed at which the old were replaced by the new far exceeded even Hollywood's.

If the Victoria's Secret angels were to maintain their public appeal, they had to constantly absorb new faces. As the previous generation of angels aged, a new generation was gradually rising.

For instance, Duke spotted an angel who would endure at Victoria's Secret for a long time—someone who would serve as the public face and leading figure of the angels far into the future.

"Hello, Director Rosenberg. I'm Alessandra Ambrosio, from Brazil."

Right after Heidi Klum walked away, a young woman who looked eighteen at most came over to introduce herself.

"I'm a huge fan of yours. I absolutely love your movies. From Speed to Daylight, I've watched all your films at least five times."

"Thank you." Duke gave a polite nod.

"Having such a beautiful fan is an honor, Miss Ambrosio."

"Corinne..." Ambrosio extended a slender hand toward Duke.

"Just call me Corinne."

"You can call me Duke."

Duke gave her hand a gentle squeeze.

The handshake was nowhere near as wonderful as it looked. Beneath the smooth skin, Ambrosio's hand was basically all bone.

The Victoria's Secret angels made people marvel at how beautiful the human body could be. Every supermodel who wore Victoria's Secret was an absolute bombshell. But only those in the industry—or connected to it—knew that these angel models were quite literally living in hell.

Duke hadn't participated in the previous grand shows, so he didn't know the reality of the situation back then. But this time, all the prep work had been compiled into a report on his desk, including the advance preparations for these models.

Starting two months prior, Victoria's Secret management had implemented militaristic control over the angels. Aside from rigorous training, alcohol and sex were strictly prohibited during the final two weeks. Violators would be cut.

Starting four weeks ago, the angels were restricted to liquid protein. Their diets were strictly monitored, completely cutting out any carbohydrates or fats.

Furthermore, some of the guest models trying to squeeze into the ranks of the Victoria's Secret angels were only drinking the bare minimum of water each day, purposefully dehydrating themselves to appear even thinner.

Before the grand show, all the participating models would completely stop drinking water twelve hours in advance, simply to prevent any potential bloating...

It had to be said—beauty demanded a price.