Prologue
Sex Choreography
Rae
Tensionbuzzedthroughoutthemovie set as we all prepared for the film’s first sex scene.
Okay. Let’s make sure everything is on point.
The set was an absolute masterpiece, designed to mirror the opulent and dangerous world ofBlood and Vows—the viral mafia romance novel that had captivated millions of women and sparked fanfics, memes, and even custom playlists.
Expecting this to be a blockbuster hit, the production team had spared no expense, pouring what felt like half the movie’s enormous budget into this one room to ensure it would look as breathtakingly seductive as fans had imagined.
Just another day making two impossibly gorgeous humans pretend to have the kind of sex regular people can only dream about.
I grinned.
Totally normal.
The bedroom was drenched in decadence.
Rich, dark velvet covered the walls.
The centerpiece of the space was this massive bed, draped in blood-red silk sheets that shimmered under this massive chandelier.
A fireplace dominated one wall, its flames simulated for safety but no less mesmerizing.
Above it hung a painting of a dark, stormy ocean, the kind of thing you’d expect to find in a villain’s lair. On the mantle, gold chalices and an antique pistol sat side by side, little touches that felt ripped straight from the book.
To the left of the bed was a small table set for two, complete with crystal glasses and a decanter of what looked like whiskey. And not just any whiskey—there was a label I couldn’t quite make out, but I’d overheard the props team gushing about it being some insanely rare vintage that had cost a ridiculous amount of money, even though no one would ever actually drink it.
But it was the little details that really made the set sing. A knife glinted on the bedside table, encrusted with tiny rubies. Next to it was a single, wilting white rose, its petals blackened at the edges.
This scene is going to be insane.
I didn’t even want to know how much they spent to make the room smell perfect, but it worked. It felt like stepping into the pages of the book itself—a place where passion and violence intertwined.
“Let’s see.” I walked around, checking everything one last time. “Anything else?”
My assistant, Gisselle followed behind me. “I believe we have everything double checked, Rae.”
“Perfect.”
She looked at me. “What time do you leave for your trip?”
I checked my watch. “I’m out of here in four hours.”
“Rae, I hope you have an amazing time.”
“Me too.” My eyes landed on the ropes coiled neatly on the side table.
They looked innocuous enough—soft, silk-blend ropes dyed a deep crimson to match the set’s color palette—but I knew better than to trust appearances. This wasn’t my first time working on a scene that involved restraints, and I’d learned early in my career that safety always had to come first.
The last thing anyone needed was for Ava Laurent, the biggest star on the planet, to pass out—or worse—because someone didn’t test the equipment properly.
Picking up the ropes, I ran my fingers along their length, and gave them a few experimental tugs, testing their strength and flexibility.
Next, I tied a simple loop around my wrist, snug but not tight, to see how it felt.
