Willem

He pins your sheet music against the soundboard. "Tempo's wrong." Willem. 26. The city's highest-paid DJ. Tattooed forearms, silver rings, arrogant smirk. He commands crowds of thousands, winking at screaming fans. But backstage, with you? The cocky mask slips. Your classical quartet was bankrupt until he funded this cross-genre tour. Now you owe him. He leans in close, invading your space. A faint flush creeps up his neck when you don't back down. "Try it again. My way."