In a conference room at The Peninsula Beverly Hills, two senior executives from Mercedes-Benz's marketing department were already seated.
"Schulz, I still think Matthew Horner is too young!"
On the sofa by the window, a middle-aged man with short blond hair looked utterly serious. "He's not the best choice for the series."
The man called Schulz was a plump middle-aged man who spoke slowly. "Becker, I met Matthew Horner at an event—he looks older than his real age, and the series needs a sporty edge. His age isn't the issue."
Becker still shook his head. "A Hollywood Star under twenty-five…"
"You're overlooking something," Schulz reminded him. "Among male stars his age in Hollywood, Matthew Horner has the best image and the biggest name."
"I'd still prefer we use a German star," Becker said, voicing what he really felt.
It was a professional disagreement, nothing personal. Schulz smiled. "I understand, but the reality is our home-grown celebrities are virtually unknown once they leave Germany. You've dealt with Arnold Schwarzenegger before—you know better than I how powerful Hollywood Stars are."
Becker had to admit it. Within the movie-star sphere, apart from a handful of European actresses, no one could match Hollywood's global fame and influence.
Some might wield greater clout inside the film circle, but they were preparing a car ad aimed at the broad middle-class consumer base.
Becker's doubts stemmed mainly from age. Matthew Horner's screen roles appeared mature, yet everyone knew makeup could achieve that. If in real life he resembled those teen idols, he'd be completely wrong for the endorsement.
The Mercedes series wasn't top-tier luxury, but in North America it started at seventy thousand dollars—hardly pocket money for teenagers.
Schulz said nothing more. Ever since Schwarzenegger entered politics and the company decided not to renew his contract half a year ago, Schulz had led a task-force to find a new spokesman worldwide. Due to corporate strategy, the new face had to be under forty.
After decades on the market, the Mercedes line felt stale; headquarters desperately wanted to re-energize it.
They'd originally considered replacing Schwarzenegger with a football star, yet today's soccer superstars lacked the image and aura that suited the series.
Eventually the team looked to Hollywood, and Schulz remembered Matthew Horner from this year's Academy Awards Ceremony, nominating him as a candidate.
A knock sounded; an assistant opened the door. "Matthew Horner and his Agent are here."
Schulz nodded lightly. "Bring them in."
He stood and walked to the doorway to greet the guests; Becker followed, eyes fixed on the entrance.
The conference-room door opened again; the assistant led two people inside.
The first to catch Becker's eye was a tall blonde woman in a tailored business suit and black-rimmed glasses, radiating shrewd efficiency.
Behind her strode a tall, powerfully built man. At first glance he looked twenty-five at most, but half a second longer and he seemed mature—nothing like a twenty-something kid.
Becker had met countless stars; his gaze was sharp. This had to be Matthew Horner, and his appraising eyes swept over him at once.
Broad shoulders, long legs, a large frame—well-cut clothes draped over unmistakably sculpted muscle. Angular facial lines; the overall aura was sheer hardness.
Beyond that, Becker sensed a wildness that could burst through the urban jungle—as if Tarzan had returned to civilization, taken an English education, and now looked courteous while the primal wildness in his bones couldn't be hidden.
"Hello, Miss Herman."
Schulz's greeting cut off Becker's thoughts. "Hello, Mr. Horner."
Becker shook hands with both in turn; when he grasped Matthew Horner's, his eyes widened slightly.
The hand was broad and powerful, rough and hard as stone—like that of a veteran driver who'd spent years wrestling steering wheels in the wild.
After the greetings Becker said little, sitting at the table while Schulz did the talking. Schulz led this Los Angeles trip, though Becker's opinion carried heavy weight.
Of course, his opinion still mattered greatly.
Not speaking didn't mean inaction; Becker had been studying Matthew. For an endorsement, how well the spokesperson's image matched the product was critical. Pick some waifish, effeminate pretty-boy and the brand equity built over decades would collapse overnight.
His gaze slid over Matthew Horner again. The man was nothing like he'd imagined. He'd fallen into the old trap of assuming every young Hollywood Star was a delicate flower. Off-screen, Horner looked exactly like he did on it.
Rugged styling, a powerful face, straight hard lines—
The Hollywood Star sitting opposite was basically a top-spec humanoid Mercedes G-Wagen!
Becker's opinion flipped one-hundred-eighty degrees. Apart from youth, Matthew Horner fit the image of the Mercedes off-road line better than Arnold Schwarzenegger.
Though his mind had changed, Becker, an old hand at business, kept a poker face and kept watching the two opposite him.
Matthew Horner didn't say much; his Agent Helen Herman did most of the talking with Schulz. When Horner did speak, every word was measured, showing a maturity rare for his age.
He looked wild, yet not impulsive—untamed but steady, as if he had solid backing.
The Mercedes line wasn't just about ruggedness and power; it carried decades of heritage. Becker knew Horner matched that aspect perfectly.
The first meeting ended quickly. Matthew Horner and his Agent Helen Herman took their leave.
Once they'd left the conference room Becker said, "Sorry, Schulz—my earlier view was wrong."
"No matter." Schulz sat back in the sofa-chair. "What's your take now?"
Becker thought. "This was my first time meeting Horner in person. Visually, he suits the series better than Schwarzenegger ever did."
Then the German in him surfaced. "That's just my first impression. I withdraw my objection, but systematic research and evaluation are essential."
Schulz nodded. "This concerns our brand strategy—any rash decision would be foolish." He tapped the armrest. "Still, I agree: purely on looks and aura, Horner aligns more closely with the line."
"I didn't expect Hollywood's star-making factory to produce someone this distinctive," Becker said with a self-mocking smile. "Maturity beyond his years, chiseled features, wild powerful presence, plus the calm seldom seen in the young."
He sighed softly. "Only downside: his fanbase is mostly teenagers."
Schulz concurred. "That's Horner's biggest flaw; otherwise he'd be the perfect face for the line."
They exchanged glances, both smiling wryly. Even a G-Wagen isn't perfect—where in the world is anything flawless?
"Let's do this," Schulz decided. "Launch a full endorsement evaluation of Horner. Put half the task-force on him; aim to have results around New Year."
"Agreed!" Becker was all for it. "Matthew Horner is now our prime target."
They'd already met Matt Damon in New York, but he was nothing like his Bourne persona—his looks weren't sharp enough, his aura too subdued. Not ideal.
Matthew and Helen Herman climbed into the car and finally relaxed.
"How do you think it went?" he asked her.
Helen Herman told the driver to head back to Burbank, then said, "From what I saw, both Schulz and Becker seemed pleased with you."
Matthew leaned back. "So our prep wasn't wasted."
The night he got the call he'd gone to Angel Agency and met Helen; they'd spent two days preparing meticulously.
You don't rush into something like this—same as a film audition.
"What are our odds of landing it?" he asked again.
"Above fifty percent," Helen Herman said after a pause. "Possibly higher."
She warned him, "The Germans will run strict checks. Your fame is enough, but behave—no antics during this period."
Matthew waved her off. "Relax, I know what's at stake."
Things moved smoothly. Before Christmas, Matthew received Helen Herman's call: Mercedes-Benz was ready to enter formal talks about his endorsement contract.
Negotiations would start in Los Angeles; if all went well, final signing would be in Germany.