Chapter 38

Eleanor's POV

As I stared at my reflection in the makeup mirror, willing my racing heart to slow down. Five years in the industry, over a dozen productions, and here I was about to film my first on-screen kiss. The thought made my stomach churn.

"Eleanor?" Ryan, my scene partner, approached with what he probably thought was a reassuring smile. "Want to run through the dialogue one more time?"

I managed a tight nod, though conversation was the last thing I wanted. The crew bustled around us, adjusting lights and checking equipment, their movements only amplifying my anxiety.

"Scene three, take two!" The slate clapped, making me jump slightly.

Ryan moved closer, his cologne too strong in the confined space. My back hit the wall as he placed his hand beside my head, exactly as blocked in rehearsal. But as his face drew near, I jerked away.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled, heat rising to my cheeks.

"Cut!" Jace's voice cut through the tension. The director's chair scraped against the floor as he stood. "Eleanor, a word?"

My stomach dropped as I followed him to a quiet corner of the set. Here it comes, I thought. The legendary "Demon Jace" was about to tear into me for wasting everyone's time. But his next words surprised me.

"We can cut the kiss scene," he said quietly. "I'll revise the script."

I stared at him, caught off guard by this unexpected suggestion. Then anger flared - not at his words, but at what they implied.

"If you didn't want me doing kiss scenes, you shouldn't have written them in the first place," I said, my voice steady despite my racing pulse. "I won't be the one taking the blame for script changes now."

Something flickered in his eyes - surprise? respect? - before he nodded curtly. "Places, then."

Back against the wall, I closed my eyes, fists clenched at my sides. The camera whirred, Ryan's footsteps approached, and then his lips were on mine. I forced myself to stay still, to play my part - until I felt his tongue push against my lips.

My whole body went rigid, but professional training kept me from shoving him away. The seconds stretched like hours until finally, mercifully, Jace called "Cut!"

I didn't wait for feedback. Pushing past Ryan, I strode toward my trailer, but his voice followed me.

"Eleanor, wait! Sorry about that, the director wanted more passion in the scene-"

I whirled around, a bitter laugh escaping my throat. "Jace told you to use tongue?"

"Well, no, but-"

"Then don't you dare blame him for taking liberties." My voice shook with rage, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. The hypocrisy of it all hit me - Jace's earlier "concern" now feeling like a calculated move rather than genuine consideration.

"I was just trying to make it more convincing," Ryan protested weakly.

"Save it." I turned away, gesturing for my assistant to follow. As we walked to my trailer, I could feel dozens of eyes on my back.

"Start removing this makeup," I told my assistant once we were safely inside. "I'm done for today."

As she worked, I caught my reflection in the mirror again. My eyes were bright with unshed tears, but there was steel in them too. Five years in this industry had taught me plenty about playing my part - but some lines weren't meant to be crossed.

Serena's POV

I kept my gaze fixed on the phone screen, deliberately ignoring the incoming message notification. Through the tinted windows of my Mercedes, I had a clear view of the film set where Eleanor was finishing her scene. Ryan Anderson's "accidental" prolonging of the kiss scene didn't escape my notice, nor did the subtle darkening of Jace's expression.

The door opened, and Eleanor slid into the back seat, her dress rustling against the leather. "I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting, Serena."

"No need to apologize," I responded smoothly, maintaining my professional demeanor. "Today's schedule is relatively flexible." I gestured to the driver, and we pulled away from the set, heading toward Aquavit.

The restaurant's VIP room exuded quiet luxury and panoramic city views. After we settled in, Eleanor's friends,Quinn Ashford arrived.

Eleanor greeted, "Quinn, it's so good to see you again," then casually introduced me: "This is Serena."

"Isn't this Ian Whitmore's fiancée?" Quinn Ashford asked discreetly.

"Former," I corrected without missing a beat, my tone carrying just enough finality to discourage further discussion. "Eleanor, shall we discuss the endorsement details first?"

Eleanor leaned back in her chair, studying me with unexpected directness. "To be honest, StarRiver's clothing line is too... ordinary. It lacks the impact I look for in partnerships."

I felt a flicker of surprise at her candor - most A-list celebrities would have found a more diplomatic way to phrase that criticism. But her straightforwardness was refreshing. "You're right," I acknowledged, reaching for my portfolio. "StarRiver was under my father's management until recently. To be direct: yes, our previous collections were ordinary. But that's about to change."

I spread out the design sketches for our upcoming season. Eleanor's eyes widened slightly as she leaned forward, her fingers hovering over the detailed renderings. The subtle shift in her expression told me everything I needed to know.

"We're implementing a complete brand reformation," I continued, watching her study each design with growing interest. "These pieces will debut exclusively with our new campaign."

"The market positioning, production timeline?" Eleanor asked, her initial skepticism giving way to professional curiosity.

"All planned and secured. We're prepared to offer twenty million for the endorsement contract."

Eleanor's lips curved into an unexpected smile. "Let's make it ten."

I blinked, certain I had misheard. "I'm sorry?"

"Half price," she clarified, her eyes meeting mine with surprising warmth. "If I don't give a discount, I'll get criticized from family. Ten million, and I'll be StarRiver's exclusive spokesperson."