THE MAFIA PRINCE (CHOICE)

(Headlines, TRENDING NEWS: RAY RELEASED A NEW SOLO TITLED 'CHOICE'). The studio, a buzz of lights and cameras, pulsed with energy as Ivy, the charismatic host, opened the interview with a bright smile. "Hello, viewers out there. It's your girl Ivy, and we have Ray in the house. Ray, thank you for honouring this interview," she chirped, her voice effervescent as a glass of champagne. Ray, his features schooled into the practised expression of a man used to media attention, offered a smile that was all teeth and no warmth. "Thanks for having me," he said, his words as polite and measured as an Idol's. The cream sweater, a modern ode to classic sophistication, hugged his frame with understated elegance. Its high neck, a nod to the timelessness of its design, offered a subtle contrast to the playful swagger of his crazy jean pants, their playful pattern adding a touch of youthful vibrancy to his overall look. His white Snickers, a sleek and timeless choice, completed the outfit, its crisp lines a testament to his attention to detail and appreciation for minimalism. The diamond mole, a solitary sparkle on his bronzed skin, seemed to draw Ivy's attention like a moth to a flame. She was ensnared by its allure, her gaze riveted on Ray as if he were the only one in the room. "Welcome to the show," she said, her voice breathless with excitement. "Okay, Ray, your recent solo, Choice, which is a hit and on everyone's lips. I'm curious, I mean, we're curious, especially your fans out there to know what your inspiration was to write a song like Choice." "A stranger," he said, his smile enigmatic, his eyes distant as if lost in the memory of that chance encounter. "I was stuck in traffic one day and just a stare at her through my window inspired Choice." The studio fell silent, the energy crackling with anticipation. The host, still mesmerized by Ray's enigmatic persona, couldn't help but probe further. "Love at first sight?" She asked, her voice low, her curiosity piqued. Ray, ever the enigmatic artist, scoffed at the notion of love as a muse. "Love!" He chuckled, his expression one of wry amusement. "It's normal, literally anything inspires me to make music." The host, bold and flirtatious, seized the opportunity to become part of the narrative. "So, what's the inspiration that comes with me?" She probed, her eyes sparkling with playful mischief. Ray's gaze steady and confident, met hers with a look of knowing amusement. He knew what she was playing at, he stared at her for a few seconds. "You're beautiful and an African, let's say...African Gurl, the girl with the 'u'." He sang a few lines and the whole audience went berserk. The impromptu performance, a tantalizing glimpse into the creative process, left the host, the audience, and even the cameras breathless. Her cheeks flushed with delight, Ivy couldn't contain her excitement. "Oh my gosh! I can't stop blushing. That was amazing! Should we be expecting that as a new single?" She asked, her tone giddy with anticipation. Basking in the warmth of the audience's adulation, he returned Ivy's smile with a hint of satisfaction. "No," he replied and the audience reacted in disappointment. Ivy, sensing their dejection, interceded on their behalf, her voice laced with charm and persuasion. "C'mon Ray, don't just take us to the middle of the sea and leave us there," she pleaded, her words the gentle prodding of a skilled negotiator. Ray relented, his reply a masterstroke of both diplomacy and suspense. "I'll think about it," he replied to get them off his back. "Okay, we'll hold on to that. Are you now in a relationship? Because of the way you've been releasing love songs of late, if I didn't know better I'd swear you have a secret lover." Ivy said. With laughter, a low rumble that resonated with hidden depths, he met Ivy's inquiry with his trademark enigmatic air. "Still single," he affirmed, his tone casual but laced with a hint of intrigue. Undeterred by his nonchalance, she crossed her legs, her posture radiating an air of seductive curiosity. "How would someone get your special attention?" She asked, her voice a siren song of temptation. Ray, unfazed by her allure, leaned back in his chair, a sly smile playing on his lips as he delivered his response. "Being real." "So, what's your definition of a spec and real woman?" Ivy asked. Spec and a real woman, huh?" Ray's voice, a rich timbre with the hint of a rakish chuckle, added an air of playfulness to his response. "My spec. She must be a good cook because my mum was; I should be taller than her; I don't care about body size, what matters is the vibe," he rattled off, his words a checklist for the perfect match. Fake checklist. There wasn't anyone he wished to have at that moment. "I don't believe in love, though. Maybe it exists but until it hits me, I don't think there's anything called true love." He added. Ivy hummed, "Why don't you believe in love? Because of past experiences?" A smile lifted the corner of Ray's lips. "Growing up, I've only had my best friend and twin sis as the most important in my life. I just feel love is overrated; no offence to those in love." Though he apologized, his tone didn't sound apologetic. Ivy, with interest, shifted on the couch, the movement a subtle undercurrent to her building anticipation. "My last question before we go on a break," she teased, drawing out the moment for added effect. A pause hung heavy in the air, the silence a tantalizing prelude to the revelation yet to come. "Would you date a fan?" She asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.