RAP mogul – and Sean “Puffy” Comb’s “punching bag” – Steven Stoute says he was eating dinner at the downtown hotspot Nobu the other night with his new protege, Enrique Iglesias (the hunky son of Julio), and he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“The ladies were all over us,” the 29-year-old says from behind the desk of his new, soon-to-be renovated 29th-floor office at Interscope records. “You should have seen it. This man is so hot, the ladies just won’t leave him alone. I was just riding his wave.”

Temperamentally, Stoute is clearly well on his way to recovery after being found late one night three months ago, flat on his back in his former office, his face and one arm bathed in blood, following a battering from two thugs and his so-called friend and colleague Combs.

The dispute was over a Stoute-produced music video in which Combs posed crucified to a cross. Combs had second thoughts about that cameo appearance, and claimed he asked Stoute to delete it before the video aired. When Combs saw it for the first time April 15, the scene was intact.

Stoute is hesitant when asked what exactly went on in his office – his lawyer has advised him against speaking about the clash until Puffy has his final day in court next month. Stoute says he and Puffy have since made up and allegedly settled out of court for “a hug and a handshake,” but that’s as far as the reconciliation goes.

“I urgently want to get that behind me,” Stoute says, his face twitching in nervous energy. “It’s signed, sealed and delivered. Over. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.”

But then he adds: “But, unfortunately it was the catalyst that brought my career front and center. And that is just not fair. I mean, look at me. I’m 29 years old and I’m sitting in the president’s office. I got platinum records all over the place. Why doesn’t anyone see that?”

Ironically, Stoute is speaking the truth.

Until the incident with Puffy, few outside the music industry had heard of Stoute – just named president of Black Music by Universal Music’s Interscope records. In all likelihood, that would have changed without Puffy’s, er, assistance.

“Look at these numbers,” Stoute says as he takes out the week’s latest album sales charts. ‘Wild Wild West,’ No. 1 single and No. 5 album; Ruff Ryders, No. 8 album. Nas sold 2 million albums. Two million. Those are all mine,” he says.

Last month he made his best career move to date, signing Iglesias junior to a record $40 million multi-album recording contract. It was considered a huge coup, given the recent explosion in Latin music sales.

Stoute recites the youngster’s accomplishments as if he were speaking about his own son.

“Have you seen his new video?” he asks. “No? You got to see this. This thing is so hot, you won’t believe it,” he says as he walks over to the TV to pop in the tape. He’s wearing sweatpants, a Phat Farm T-shirt and no shoes. “Check it out.”

In goes the tape goes and up climbs the volume. As loud as it can go. The stuff on his desk starts vibrating, the photos on the wall begin to shift and the words coming out of his mouth turn inaudible.

“I always listen to music this way,” he says, leaning back in his chair, his foot pounding the floor to the beat. “You can hear everything this way. Every beat. Every sound. These aren’t even my biggest speakers,” he added, pointing to the mammoth-size boom-boxes on the other side of the room.

Physically, Stoute would seem to fit the stereotypical rap star image. In the ever popular Phat Farm uniform designed by his friend and fellow music industry impressario Russell Simmons, and spouting the latest hip-hop lingo – as in, “They’re going to wag it up in here,” meaning an interior designer is set to redecorate his office – he could easily be rap’s latest cover boy. But he says there’s one crucial difference between him and his rap peers: He’s not as angry.

Stoute agrees with the popular view that rap stars are filled with rage. “Hip-hop speaks from the streets. What you got to understand is that people who come from the streets are filled with anger. So their songs are based in anger. But a lot of these guys need to control their emotions. That’s for real.”

Stoute says the crew he hangs out with are not the ones causing trouble.

He says he’s with the crowd that’s been seen hamming it up in the Hamptons with the Upper East Side crew. A certainly unrap contingent – Ivana Trump and her Italian stallion boyfriend, Roffredo Gaetani; Sandra Bullock and up-and-coming actor Adrien Brody – was roaming the grounds at his best pal Jay Z’s July 4th Wainscott barbecue. Stoute points out he never made it to Puff Daddy’s barbecue the day before.

“The Hamptons money crowd all want to be a part of what’s hip. And these guys are it,” Stoute says, playing with his new toy, a Motorola two-way pager. At the moment, he is receiving messages from his old friend Mariah Carey, who is in L.A. working on her new album. She is asking for advice on a song she’s working on, so Stoute feverishly types back his thoughts. The “computerized” conversation goes on for 10 minutes until he finally puts the gadget down. “She is amazing,” he says. “The most talented songwriter in the business. She’s my woman.”

But not literally. He has a woman, but he won’t talk about her – other than to say she’s not in the business. He would like to get married soon and have a family, but not for a while. He lives in New Jersey most of the time – “you feel like you’re getting away there” – and spends the rest of his working hours at his place in L.A. Interscope is based in L.A.

He credits his “worldliness” – his ability to go from working with a rapper like Ruff Rider to a pop/rap star like Will Smith to a Spanish-singing crooner like Enrique – to his multicultural background. His mother, a nurse, is white and his father, a marine engineer and Caribbean band member, is black.

“They never told me what to do. Never put pressure on me. And I respect them for that,” Stoute says.

Growing up in Queens Village, N.Y., Stoute wanted to be a pro-football player. He went to Syracuse University as star running back – not surprising, considering his near 300-pound physique – but soon dropped out due to a shoulder injury.

Not knowing what else to do, Stoute started hanging out with some friends working with Kid-n-Play, the rap duo who starred in the “House Party” movies. He became the musicians’ manager right before they hit it big – “and the way this business goes, opportunity comes far and few between, but when it comes, the payoff is huge,” he says.

After riding Kid-n-Play’s successful wave, Stoute landed a job as an A&R guy at RCA Records, where he worked with rap artists SWV and Wu Tang Clan.

“I realized I was good at managing people,” Stoute says. “And the thing with this business is that as long as you’re associated with hits, you’re golden.”

Stoute left RCA to become an independent music mogul. He worked with all the big rap names – Nas, Mary J. Blige, Foxy Brown – “overseeing countless multi-platinum albums.” When Sony Music offered him a job as senior vice president of all Black Music, he grabbed it. A year later Jimmy Iovine, president of Interscope Records, offered Stoute the chance to run the show at his label – and he ran with it. “I’m very happy right now. Things are going very well,” he says, offering a rare smile.

“And you know what?” Stoute asks.

“I think I make being a music executive cool. I’m 29, president of Black Music, and I’m still cool with the hip-hop crowd and my peers. I make doing what I’m doing cool.”