Of course, it was a purely transactional exchange.
The models offered their bodies, and the executives offered resources.
Standing near the edge of the gathering, a young Angelina Jolie was quietly sizing up the crowd.
Overhearing the snide remarks of the two models beside her, she couldn’t help but notice something different about the man they were mocking.
It wasn’t easy for an unknown male actor to secure an invite to an exclusive party like this.
Scanning the lavish venue, Jolie recognized almost every other handsome guy in attendance—nearly all of them already had famous projects to their names.
But this guy was completely unfamiliar.
Furthermore, his clothes weren’t particularly expensive.
All of this made him a highly unusual presence.
Convinced he was either someone special or a complete nobody, Jolie ignored the two women and their petty gossip.
She adjusted her smile and strode confidently toward him.
“Ugh, look at that little bitch trying to pick up scraps again,” one of the models scoffed.
“Hmph, she’s delusional.
At her age, and not even an A-lister, what kind of resources could a guy like that possibly give her?”
The two female models sneered before turning their attention back to the crowd, hunting for executives interested in buying their time.
…
“Hello, I’m Angelina Jolie.
I saw you eating steak all by yourself over here, and I couldn’t help but be curious.” She boldly used curiosity as her opening line.
Angelina Jolie?
Memories of her countless future achievements instantly flashed through Kevin’s mind.
But right now, it seemed she was still just a model.
“Hello, I’m Steve Kevin.”
Jolie feigned a slightly displeased pout, seemingly dissatisfied that he hadn’t immediately revealed his actual profession or status.
At twenty-five, in the absolute prime of her beauty, the expression didn’t convey genuine annoyance at all.
Instead, it made her look playfully coquettish.
Kevin smiled and took his time answering.
“I’m a director.
The recently released film Saw is my work.”
Saw was arguably the most dazzling film in theaters right now.
Produced on a meager $1.3 million budget, it had raked in an astounding $40 million in its opening week.
And the director behind it all was the handsome young man standing right in front of her?
Had she just landed a massive catch?
“So you’re the director of Saw!” she murmured softly.
“I’ve seen it.
The movie is absolutely brilliant.
I wonder if I might be lucky enough to go back to your hotel with you…
so we can discuss exactly how you made it.”
Kevin raised an eyebrow.
She was incredibly direct.
It was exactly as Ovitz had predicted—the moment he mentioned directing a box office hit, a stunning woman immediately threw herself at him.
If she were just an average model, he would have turned her down without a second thought.
But this was Angelina Jolie, in the absolute prime of her youth and beauty.
Sensing his appraising gaze, Jolie tossed her long hair, striking a highly alluring pose she had undoubtedly perfected in front of a mirror a thousand times before.
It was an incredibly seductive display that instantly made his pulse race.
The added thrill of knowing she was a future Hollywood A-lister only fueled his rising desire.
Giving in to the temptation, Kevin replied, “Of course.
It would be my honor.”
…
Meanwhile, across the room stood Harvey Weinstein—co-founder of Miramax Films and, for a long time, Hollywood’s most prominent independent producer.
From a strictly business standpoint, he was an undeniable titan.
However, he was far more notorious for his other reputation: Hollywood’s biggest sexual predator.
In 2017, numerous A-list actresses would publicly accuse him of assault, ultimately landing him a twenty-three-year prison sentence.
To cynical industry insiders, Weinstein didn’t just rely on brute force; he operated a sophisticated system of coercion and enticement.
In their eyes, his greatest sin wasn’t the casting couch itself, but his chronic failure to fulfill his end of the bargain.
It was this blatant breach of transactional trust that eventually triggered the avalanche of accusations.
These kinds of arrangements were by no means isolated incidents in Hollywood.
But typically, both parties got what they wanted, keeping the entire system quiet.
Anyone who dared to break those unwritten rules was bound to face the consequences eventually.
Overhearing the two models beside him mocking the young man across the room, Weinstein looked up and snapped, “He isn’t just some nobody. This chapter was taken from novelping.com without permission.
That’s the director of Saw!”
Brushing past the women, Weinstein marched straight toward Kevin.
Half the town was currently searching for the young director, and Weinstein certainly hadn’t expected to find him wandering the party alone.
Like a ravenous predator, Weinstein had a special appetite for hunting down hot new talent.
Wringing every last drop of profit out of them gave him a greater thrill than sleeping with actresses.
“Director Kevin, hello.
I’m Harvey Weinstein of Miramax Films.” Weinstein approached with an air of absolute arrogance, forcefully inserting himself into their conversation.
His tone carried the supreme confidence of a man who assumed everyone knew exactly who he was.
Kevin frowned.
He had been having a very pleasant chat with Angelina Jolie, and they had just agreed to a “late-night script reading” in his hotel bed.
Being so rudely interrupted left Kevin—who had been enjoying a remarkably smooth streak of luck lately—highly displeased.
“Never heard of you,” Kevin replied coldly.
Of course, he knew exactly who Harvey Weinstein was.
As a director, he was well aware of the industry’s major players.
But Weinstein was infamous for breaking promises, aggressively driving down prices, and using utterly despicable tactics to buy out distribution rights for foreign films.
Kevin instinctively despised him.
Simply put, Kevin was a man who played by the established rules of the game, and he loathed dealing with people who broke them.
As for being afraid of the man?
The very idea was completely absurd.
As a director with a flawless track record, even the legendary Big Five—and future Big Six—Hollywood studios couldn’t touch him.
As long as he could reliably print money for investors, he would always sit at the very top of the Hollywood food chain.
He didn’t need to tip-toe around anyone’s ego; he had the capital to do exactly as he pleased.
Hearing Kevin’s words, Weinstein’s expression instantly stiffened.
But within seconds, his ego found a convenient excuse for the insult: Steve Kevin is a rookie who buries his head in filmmaking.
He just doesn’t recognize the real power players in Hollywood yet.
Viewed in that light, the disrespect was understandable.
Swallowing his pride, Weinstein pressed on.
“Miramax is a studio that specializes in distributing niche art films and securing Oscars.
Tell me, do you want your next film to win an Academy Award?” he asked, his eyes gleaming with ambition.