"Let me romance you."
Elliott's jaw tightened. Slowly, he slipped his tie from her hand, careful not to brush her fingers. Straightening, he pushed his chair backm stood and continued in a cold voice, "Miss Grant, I think you're confusing me with the characters I play on screen. I don't need anyone romancing me."
Vanessa laughed softly at that, the sound light and sweet, but it only made his hands clench harder. She was beautiful, no one could deny that, and her laughter had the kind of warmth that could charm anyone in seconds. But Elliott wasn't interested. He didn't have the time, nor the desire, to be swept into something like this. Not when he had far more pressing things on his plate.
He turned to leave, only for her voice to cut through the silence. "You haven't heard my proposal yet."
Elliott froze, his shoulders tense. He glanced back at her with narrowed eyes. "I don't dare to, Miss Grant. I'm Elliott Ross. Not Steven. Not Tyler. Not Davis. And certainly not Ryu."
The names hung heavy in the room, reminders of the men he had played on screen- men who bent easily, who longed to be pursued, who gave themselves over to love without a fight. That was acting. That was fiction. Elliott refused to live it off camera.
He exhaled slowly, his chest tight. "I've played them enough. I won't live like them too."
With that, he placed the rose on the table and once again moved to leave but before he could take another step, her voice sounded," What if it gave you a chance to leave Starlink? Even then, you wouldn't be interested?"
That made him pause. His contract made it impossible for him to leave Starlink. Not without a hefty settlement. And he had already guessed Starlink's intentions. He was no fool. So, he clenched his hands and turned around," How?"
He watched as she gave him a triumphant smile and then gestured for him to sit again," Have a seat. Let's eat. We should not waste time, after all."
Elliott lowered himself into the chair again, his body still rigid. For a moment the room was silent, then the doors behind him opened and a line of waiters entered, carrying trays covered in polished silver domes, as if they had been given some sort of a signal to enter.
Elliott's hands clenched as he looked at the domes. He would have preferred to place the order himself. He could already imagine what was going to be there under those cloches. Food that he used to love but now hated.
He had been given 'food surprises' before—boxes sent by fans who were far too invested in his life, meals arranged exactly to his so-called taste. They always thought they were being sweet, thoughtful, devoted. But to him, it was suffocating. If he mentioned liking a certain dish during an interview, it would suddenly appear everywhere- on sets, in gift baskets, even delivered to his home. Eventually, he had grown to hate all those things. Every 'favorite' turned into a reminder that he was not Elliott but someone's fictional 'boyfriend'.
As he looked down at the dished then, however, he was surprised. None of the dishes looked familiar. He didn't know if he was happy about this though. Not taking the time to think he quickly looked up and taunted, "Miss Grant, you disappoint me. You haven't done your research. None of this is to my preference."
As he said the words, he decided that he did not like this surprise. If she had ordered his 'favourite' dishes, it would have been easier to dismiss them. But this was good too, he told himself. At least she was not one of his stalkers. He hoped. Anyway, for now, he would enjoy this new meal. One good thing to come out of this evening.
But then, he looked up and saw as she rested her chin lightly against her palm, studying him with eyes that gleamed in the candlelight. "That's exactly the point, Elliott. I thought you might be bored of the same old things. If I ordered your favorites, you would only frown at the plate and force yourself to eat. So why not try something… new?"
Elliott froze, his fork halfway to the plate. Something about the way she said it made him feel oddly exposed. Hadn't he been thinking the same thing just now. Happy to try something new.
Without a word, Elliott dropped his gaze to the food. It was safer that way. Better to focus on cutting into the dish than to get pulled into a conversation that could only end with him giving away more than he wanted. Talking with Vanessa Grant was never going to be simple. He knew her type—the top bosses in this industry didn't reveal anything unless they wanted to. No matter how hard you pushed, they wouldn't speak until it suited them. So there was no point in trying to rush her. The food, at least, was straightforward. It didn't demand answers.
He lifted a forkful slowly, chewing with deliberate calm, but her voice came across the table almost as soon as the silence had settled.
"So, what are your plans for the next few weeks?"
Elliott looked up, his brows drawing together. Of all the questions she could have asked, this one seemed pointless. Why did she want to know his schedule?
He hesitated, fork still in hand, his mind working quickly. In truth, his schedule wasn't some kind of secret. Not in their world. A woman like her could get his entire calendar within minutes, maybe even faster than his own manager. Studio bosses had ways of knowing everything before the actors themselves did. If she was asking him now, it wasn't because she needed the answer. It was because she wanted to hear how he would respond.
That thought made his frown deepen.
Carefully, he set his fork down against the plate. His voice was calm, even, but he made sure to keep his answer clipped, controlled. "I'm in the middle of shooting a series right now. It'll take a few weeks to wrap up."
He paused, his hand curling lightly against the table as if steadying himself. "After that, I'll be taking a short vacation. My first one in five years."
The words came out sharper than he intended, as though he wanted her to hear the weight of them. To know how much he had been working, how little time he allowed himself to rest.
"And once the vacation ends," he continued, "the series should be in post-production. That means I'll be back on the road to promote it. Press tours, interviews, the usual."
Vanessa nodded slowly, her expression unreadable at first, though the faint curve of her lips suggested she already knew what she was going to say next. She set her wine glass down with a soft clink and looked at him steadily.
"Very good," she said smoothly, her tone laced with satisfaction. "Then you can spend your vacation with me. It seems like perfect timing, doesn't it?"
Elliott froze, the fork in his hand hovering halfway to his mouth. For a moment, he wondered if he had misheard her, but the glimmer in her eyes told him otherwise. She was serious. Deadly serious.
His jaw tightened, and he carefully placed his fork back onto the plate. His voice came out clipped, colder than before. "I don't remember inviting you into my private time, Miss Grant."
Vanessa's smile widened. "Of course you didn't. But you will.