The set was completely silent as Charlotte and Lily gazed at the rising sun, the golden light painting their faces while the morning breeze brushed against their skin through the rolled-down car window.
The mont felt serene, like a gentle stream that could wash away stress in an instant.
The director should have called "cut" five minutes ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to break the peace. The way Charlotte and Lily sat there, lost in the mont, was too beautiful to interrupt. So, he let the cara roll, capturing the mont before him.
Finally, after the sun had fully risen, he exhaled. "And ... cut!"
A wave of murmurs and quiet applause rippled through the set. Crew mbers rushed in imdiately, draping warm jackets over Charlotte and Lily before they could start shivering.
"Charlotte, that was incredible!" Logan looked as if he was about to tear up after witnessing her performance. "Damn it! Every shot you take is perfect! You should have never left this industry!"
Charlotte let out a soft laugh at his dramatic reaction. "I’m glad you liked it, Mr. Barnes."
"Like it? I love it!" Logan ran a hand through his hair. "That little vacation you took? Yeah, it definitely worked. You’re better than ever, Charlotte."
Tatiana, who was sitting beside Logan, casually added, "Maybe it’s not just the vacation, but the fact that she went with Mr. Sullivan."
"Yes! Has Mr. Sullivan been good to you?"
Charlotte blinked, montarily thrown off by how quickly the conversation had shifted from her performance to her relationship with Damon.
At this point, it was obvious. Everyone was itching for details about them.
She wouldn’t be surprised if so of the staff had already been contacted by the dia, ready to sell whatever information they could get their hands on.
Not wanting to give them anything juicy, she simply smiled and said, "He’s really good to ."
Thankfully, they had to get ready for the next scene, which ant she could finally escape the conversation.
Or so she thought.
The rest of the day felt like she was dodging one nosy question after another.
Every ti she managed to slip away, soone else would corner her with the sa thing.
"Is Mr. Sullivan really that rich?"
"I heard you’re living with him. Is it true his house is bigger than a city?"
"Charlotte, can you ask Mr. Sullivan to approve my proposal faster?"
Mr. Sullivan this. Mr. Sullivan that.
At so point, Charlotte had to accept reality, no one cared about her relationship.
They were just obsessed with Damon Sullivan.
Which, fine. Whatever. It worked in her favor.
But for so reason, it annoyed her a little bit.
Why was he getting all the attention? Why was everyone so fascinated by him?
Even online, people seed more interested in talking about Damon than her.
Was she really that uninteresting?
If she were being honest with herself, the answer was probably yes.
Damon was the kind of man who turned heads everywhere he went. A dangerously handso billionaire, wealthy enough to rival a country.
Only a fool wouldn’t be drawn to him. Being with Damon was like striking gold, except the gold ca with broad shoulders, a handso smile, and the ability to make won weak in the knees just by looking at them.
But that wasn’t what bothered her.
It wasn’t just about being overshadowed by him.
It was the way everyone talked about him. The way so won talked about him too passionately.
It made her skin prickle with irritation.
Wait a second.
Was this ... jealousy?
She had spent years in a relationship where loyalty ant nothing. Julian had never been faithful, jumping from one woman to another so effortlessly that she had stopped counting.
Sowhere along the way, she had forgotten what it felt like to be jealous of her man.
But this?
This was different.
It was strange. Like sothing was squeezing her heart, making her blood simr with an anger she didn’t quite understand.
Was that even normal?
Did she even have the right to feel jealous?
She hadn’t even fully sorted out her feelings for Damon, and yet here she was, acting like a possessive girlfriend.
That wasn’t fair to him.
And yet ...
She still hated it. She really didn’t like the image of Damon being intimated with other won.
"Charlotte! You have a guest!"
A staff mber burst into her private room without knocking, grinning so widely she looked like a Cheshire cat.
"Who?" Charlotte asked, frowning at the sudden intrusion.
"It’s Mr. Sullivan!" the staff practically squealed. "And he rented a BBQ and steak food truck for us! And an ice cream truck! And a salad bowl truck! Oh my god, I can’t rember the last ti I had an expensive steak!"
Charlotte let out a slow breath, pressing her fingers against her temple. "Please let him know I’m here."
The staff tilted her head. "You don’t want to go outside?"
"No," Charlotte said firmly. "I want to talk to him alone."
Her tone wasn’t as warm as usual, making the staff not push further. Instead, she nodded and scurried away, along with the others in the room, all heading toward the food trucks like excited kids.
A few monts later, the door creaked open carefully, and Damon peeked inside before stepping in. "Sweetheart?" His voice was warm, asking, "You don’t want to co out? There’s salad if you don’t feel like eating too much."
Charlotte remained seated in front of the mirror, deliberately avoiding his gaze. She tried to ignore him, but she had never been particularly good at pretending to be upset. So instead, she muttered, "I’m not that hungry."
Damon’s brows furrowed slightly.
That tone.
He had never heard her talk to him like that before.
From the mirror’s reflection, he caught the slight pout forming on her lips. His lips twitched, half amused, half curious.
He stepped behind her, resting his hands on the back of her chair. "Sweetheart," his voice softened. "Are you mad at ?"
She still didn’t look at him.
He sighed, lowering his head slightly, his fingers tracing slow, absentminded circles against the chair’s surface. "Did I do sothing wrong?"
Did he?
No. Absolutely not.
But that wasn’t the point.
The point was sothing was clearly bothering her.
Damon watched her reflection carefully. She was pouting—definitely pouting—but trying to act like she wasn’t. Her fingers fidgeted slightly on the vanity table, betraying her frustration.
He crouched down beside her, leveling their faces in the mirror. "Charlotte, sweetheart," he coaxed, voice smooth and warm, "tell what’s wrong."
Still, she said nothing.
Damon tilted his head. "Hmm ... let guess," he tapped his chin. "Did soone upset you?"
No response.
"Did sothing go wrong on set?"
Nothing.
He smiled slightly. "Or... are you mad because too many won were talking about today?"
Charlotte’s fingers twitched.
Bingo.
How ... how the hell did he guess that so accurately?!
Damon grinned, leaning in even closer. "Sweetheart," his voice dipped into sothing husky and teasing, "are you ... jealous?"
Charlotte finally turned to glare at him. "I am not jealous!" she huffed. "And besides, what made you think that I was?"
He answered casually, "I have eyes everywhere."
Charlotte clicked her tongue in annoyance. It must be Isolde.
She hadn’t said a word to her, but Isolde had been watching her all morning. Of course, she would’ve noticed. That woman was as sharp as a hawk, nothing ever slipped past her. And now, thanks to her, Damon knew way too much.
Damon chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "So? Are you going to tell what’s wrong, or do I have to keep guessing?"
Charlotte crossed her arms, refusing to et his gaze. "There’s nothing to tell."
"Oh, really?" He leaned down, his breath warm against her ear. "Then why do you look so cute when you’re angry?"
Charlotte’s face heated instantly. "I—I’m not cute!"
Damon smiled. "That’s exactly what a cute person would say."
She huffed, turning away from him, but Damon wouldn’t let her go that easily. He held her chin, forcing her to keep facing him. "Sweetheart, if sothing’s bothering you, just say it. You know I’ll listen."
For a mont, Charlotte stayed silent. Then, before she could stop herself, she mumbled, "Everyone keeps talking about you."
Damon blinked. "Huh?"
"They don’t even care about ." She finally looked at him, frustration clear in her eyes. "All day, it’s been ’Mr. Sullivan this’ and ’Mr. Sullivan that.’ No one’s even asking about ! It’s annoying."
Damon’s lips twitched, fighting back a grin. "So, you are jealous."
Charlotte scowled. "Damon."
"Alright, alright," he said, raising his hands in surrender, but the amusent in his eyes remained. "I get it. You want people to talk about you more."
"That’s not—That’s not what I ant!" She sighed, pouting slightly before mumbling, "It’s just ... so many won seem obsessed with you. I even heard so of the female staff saying they wouldn’t let go if you ever held their hand."
Damon tilted his head, his voice calm and patient. "But have I ever held another woman’s hand?"
Charlotte looked away, mumbling, "No, you haven’t."
"Then?"
She hesitated before continuing, "But what if one day you get bored of and choose soone else? It wouldn’t be hard for you to find a woman who’s prettier than ."
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