No pinching.
No constriction.
Good.
I undid the knot. “Gisselle, do we have a pair of scissors in my kit for just in case?”
“We do, and I added another pair just in case.”
“Excellent.”
Having my career-defining project remembered as"Actress Dies Filming Mafia Romance Sex Scene"wasn't exactly what I had in mind for today.
I scanned the space, super excited.
We were about to film the infamous scene where the hero had just killed the heroine’s kidnappers and carried her—still trembling and bloody—back to this very room.
The scene fans had dissected a thousand times, theorizing over every line, every breath.
This wasn’t just a scene.
This wasthe moment.
And if we didn’t nail it, the internet was going to tear us apart.
I took my coffee from Gisselle. “Let Marco know that we’re ready.”
With a nod from Gisselle, the director Marco rose from his chair with the script clutched tightly in his hand.
Gripping my coffee, I headed off to the side.
The cameras hummed steadily.
The main camera guy, Santana rolled the dolly into position with a soft creak, muttering something about the “magic angle” for the perfect shot.
I took a sip of my coffee, wishing I’d told Gissele to add an extra pump of caramel syrup.
And right on cue, Ava Laurent strolled in.
The moment I spotted Ava, I was reminded of how impossibly perfect she looked. The kind of perfect that didn’t just come from youth but from being crafted by the European gods themselves.
Even though the make-up artist had splattered her with fake drops of blood and a few strategic smudges on her face, her long, platinum-blond hair cascaded down her back like liquid sunlight, and those icy blue eyes were so sharp they could probably cut glass.
She moved with a natural grace, her tall, slender frame gliding across the set like she owned the space.
Well. . .she kind of. . .did.
At just twenty-three, she was the newIt Girlof Hollywood, and everyone knew it, including her.
I, on the other hand, was. . .well, let’s just say, not the kind of woman who turned heads in a room.
My dark brown skin naturally shimmered and. . .I thought, was downright stunning, even if the rest of the world rarely noticed.
Today, my medium-length kinky hair was twisted into a simple updo, practical for the long hours on set but with just enough flair to make me feel, dare I say,cute.
It wasn’t the kind of beauty that stopped people in their tracks, not the kind that graced magazine covers or had men stumbling over themselves to hold open doors.
But it was mine, and in my quieter moments, I took pride in it.
