Chapter 51

Serena's POV

When I returned to my bedroom, Eleanor was already sitting up against the headboard, looking somewhat disoriented but more alert than before. The warm glow from my bedside lamp cast gentle shadows across her face, highlighting the slight fatigue in her features despite her attempt to appear composed.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, keeping my voice soft.

She gave me a wan smile. "Better. Your bed smells nice." The directness of her comment caught me off guard, but I maintained a polite smile. It was refreshing to encounter someone so straightforward in our usually guarded social circles.

"Would you like some honey water? Or I could prepare a hot bath if you prefer. Or I could call my driver to take you home," I offered, giving her options while carefully observing her reaction.

"No, I'd rather stay here tonight, if that's okay." Eleanor pulled her knees up to her chest.

"Of course. Would you like some coffee? I was about to make some for myself."

Her eyes lit up slightly. "Black coffee at this hour? You're braver than you look, Serena."

In the kitchen, I found myself automatically reaching for the sugar bowl. "Do you want sugar with-"

"No sugar," she said. I gave her a suprise look.

"You too?" Eleanor raised an eyebrow, a genuine smile playing at her lips.

I nodded, pouring the steaming coffee into two mugs. This small shared preference somehow made the late-night atmosphere more comfortable between us.

We settled on the couch, and I turned on the TV, keeping the volume low. By coincidence - or perhaps fate's sense of humor - one of Eleanor's reality shows was playing. She was on screen, radiant and commanding, teaching aspiring actresses about camera presence.

"Well, well," Eleanor smirked, glancing at me sideways. "Looks like I've found a faithful fan."

I chose not to correct her assumption about my viewing habits. I watched her from the corner of my eye as she observed her on-screen self with an expression I couldn't quite read.

The peaceful moment was interrupted by her phone's sudden buzz. Eleanor's body tensed almost imperceptibly as she glanced at the screen. She let it ring until it went silent.

Minutes later, my phone lit up. Jace's name flashed on the screen.

"She's not answering her phone," his voice came through, tense with poorly concealed concern. "Could you pass along a message? Tomorrow's shoot is crucial - tell her not to be late."

"She's actually staying at my place tonight," I replied evenly, noting how his tone shifted from anxiety to relief, then to a forced casualness.

"Oh. Good. That's... good. Just make sure she gets the message about tomorrow."

"Okay," I replied, though something still felt odd about the situation. What kind of scene could be so important that it needed a midnight reminder?

I distinctly noticed that when Jace Gillard called earlier, there was an urgency in his voice. Yet by the end of the call, his tone had become oddly casual.

"I won't keep you up any longer. Good night."

"Good night." When I relayed his words to Eleanor, her expression darkened momentarily before she masked it with a look of indifference.

"Are things... not good between you and Jace Gillard?" I asked carefully.

"No, everything's fine," Eleanor replied offhandedly.

But something definitely felt off about their dynamic. Why wouldn't Eleanor take the director's calls? Usually, you wouldn't ignore a director's phone call.

Perhaps Eleanor's status gave her that leverage? After all, I'd heard this was only an A-level production, not S-level, and Eleanor's current market value and position meant she could easily book S-level projects.

But that didn't fit - Eleanor never struck me as the type to pull rank.

"I'm tired," Eleanor announced suddenly, punctuating her words with a yawn that seemed only partially theatrical. "I think I'll go to sleep now."

"Of course," I nodded, gathering our empty coffee cups.

I finished plating a simple but nutritious breakfast. I'd even made an extra portion, anticipating she might be hungry after last night's feast.

The sound of shuffling feet announced Eleanor's arrival. She emerged from the guest room looking decidedly less polished than her usual camera-ready self, hair slightly mussed and eyes still heavy with sleep.

"Breakfast is ready," I said, gesturing to the spread of scrambled eggs, whole grain toast, and fresh fruit I'd arranged. "Nothing fancy, but it'll get you through the morning."

Eleanor wrinkled her nose, waving off my offer with a lazy hand. "Thanks, but I'm starting a diet today."

I raised an eyebrow, recalling how she'd devoured plate after plate of marinated beef last night. "That's not what you were saying when you were on your fourth serving of venison."

"Exactly!" She dropped dramatically into a chair, somehow making even that look graceful. "I went completely overboard last night, which means today is definitely diet day."

"Skipping breakfast isn't the best way to start a diet," I pointed out, unable to completely suppress my mothering instinct. "It's terrible for your metabolism."

"Don't worry about me." Eleanor pulled out her phone, fingers flying across the screen. "My assistant is bringing a boiled egg white and non-fat milk. I'll eat in the car."

She glanced at the time and straightened slightly. "Jace was super clear about not being late today. I can't afford to get on his bad side."

I bit back a smile, thinking of how she'd deliberately ignored the director's calls just hours ago.

"Oh, right," she said suddenly, looking up from her phone with unexpected sincerity. "Thanks for last night. When you get married, I'm giving you something amazing as a wedding gift."

The casual mention of marriage caught me off guard. Wedding? To whom? The thought stirred something uncomfortable in my chest, but before I could dwell on it, Eleanor was already moving on, chattering about her upcoming scene.