Chapter 24 – Building His Own Power
William recognized her instantly.
Mariah Carey.
A singer.
She wore the quintessential early-90s look—voluminous curls cascading down her shoulders, wheat-toned skin, and makeup that was a little heavy by modern standards but perfectly on trend for the era.
Mixed Black, Irish, and Venezuelan heritage.
The fact that Mariah Carey had turned out this beautiful was nothing short of a biological miracle.
Most cross-ethnic combinations tended to average out traits—sometimes losing more than they gained.
Mariah, on the other hand, had inherited every advantage.
At the moment, she was filming the music video for the lead single from her debut self-titled album, Vision of Love.
During a break, she stepped outside for a cigarette—and happened to run into a blond, blue-eyed British-looking guy who could have stepped straight out of a magazine.
At twenty years old, she couldn't help feeling the urge to strike up a conversation.
"Just some annoying trouble," William said casually, brushing it off. He gestured toward the cigarette in her hand. "Mind if I have one?"
William didn't usually smoke at all—but he was irritated, and a cigarette felt appropriate.
Mariah didn't hesitate. She pulled out her pack and offered him one.
"They're lady cigarettes," she said with a small smile. "Hope you don't mind."
"Whatever." William shrugged and took it.
Mariah flicked her lighter and leaned in, lighting it for him.
William took a drag—then promptly coughed twice.
"First time?" Mariah asked, surprised.
"Yeah. Don't really smoke," William replied.
Women's cigarettes were slim, with very little tobacco. He finished it quickly.
"Want another?" Mariah offered, holding out the pack again.
William shook his head.
One cigarette was enough to steady his mood.
"Thanks for the smoke, Miss Carey."
Mariah blinked. "You know who I am?"
After all, at this point she was still just an ordinary singer with moderate recognition.
Her real explosion in popularity would only come after her self-titled debut album truly took off.
"Yes, I know who you are," William said calmly. "I'm a bit busy today. Let's grab coffee some other time."
It was a casual promise—one he might never fulfill—and with that, he turned and headed back into the studio.
Watching his retreating figure, Mariah crossed her arms.
That man… was interesting.
---
Back inside the studio, William went straight to find Katya.
"Katya, let me ask you something," he said seriously. "Do you have any channels to get in touch with people back home?"
"Back home?" Katya raised an eyebrow. "You mean the Soviet Union?"
"Yes. The Soviet Union."
"My father probably has some connections," she replied cautiously. "Why?"
"Perfect," William said, eyes lighting up. "Help me find out if there are any compatriots of yours—
people who've retired from the military or special units and want to come to America.
I can offer them jobs."
He was practically spelling it out: former KGB or elite Soviet operatives.
To William, hiring retired Soviet professionals was the cleanest way to deal with gang-related pressure.
First, they wouldn't hesitate—and when they acted, they acted hard. Enough to deter any criminal group.
Second, anyone willing to leave the Soviet Union in this era would stay loyal as long as they were paid well.
And besides, there was nothing to defect to—this was purely an employment relationship.
William had no intention of becoming a crime boss.
But in Katya's ears, it sounded very different.
"So what is this?" she asked suspiciously.
"An Englishman starting his own Russian mafia?"
"I'm not sure they'd even follow you."
"No," William shook his head. "I have zero interest in organized crime.
I just want to hire professionals to serve as security—for me and for my studio."
Katya studied him carefully.
"I can try," she finally said. "But I can't guarantee anything."
She knew her father often recruited exactly this type of person into his organization.
But there were always a few who just wanted a normal life—maybe someone would bite.
"By the way," she added sharply, "can you please solve the secretary issue first?
I'm completely overwhelmed."
"Thank you for your hard work," William said quickly.
"I'll handle it—immediately. Just hang in there a little longer, alright?"
This was one of the rare times his tone softened.
Katya stared at him, sighed deeply.
"I seriously owe you something, suka."
She cursed in Russian and went back to work.
Since William's business expanded, the studio's financial flow had exploded in complexity—
and Katya's workload had doubled with it.
Watching her leave, William finally let out a breath.
---
Three days later.
In William's office, he was on the phone coordinating pre-production for Before I Go to Sleep.
"Yes, preferably something more remote. Mm-hmm. Good."
He hung up the phone and rubbed his temples.
A knock sounded.
"Come in."
Katya entered, followed by a young woman.
"Boss, this is Miss Courteney Cox. She's here to apply for the secretary position."
She turned to the applicant.
"This is our studio head, William Blake."
The name rang a bell—but when William saw her face, recognition hit him instantly.
Monica.
The future Monica from Friends.
Why the hell was she applying for a secretary job at this point?
"Miss Cox, please sit," William said, gesturing to the chair across from him.
Courteney didn't seem nervous at all. She sat down naturally.
Seeing the interview begin, Katya quietly exited the room—
she always gave William face in front of outsiders.
Once the door closed, William looked at Courteney.
"Miss Cox… have we met before?"
He wasn't flirting—he wanted to know why she was here.
"That's understandable, Mr. Blake," Courteney replied openly.
"I've appeared in quite a few productions, though none really went anywhere.
I guess I finally came to terms with it and decided to find a regular job.
So if I look familiar, you've probably seen one of those earlier projects."
She spoke calmly, without bitterness—just clarity.
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