Elliott was seething. There was no other word for it.
Vanessa Grant really was something else. No wonder people whispered about her as the black widow spider. She had a way of spreading her net so carefully, so deliberately, that by the time her prey realized it, they were already caught.
And now it seemed he was going to be her prey.
She had found his weakness-no, not just found it, but seized it with both hands. His need to escape the agency while still clinging to the entertainment world. She had guessed it, understood it, and now she was pressing her advantage.
The truth was, he had no interest in being a celebrity anymore. He could give it up without hesitation, without regret. But not yet. Not until he knew what had happened all those years ago. Not until he uncovered the truth that still haunted him. Only then would he be able to walk away from this poisoned pool without looking back.
He sighed, forcing the thoughts out of his head, and began changing into his costume with slow movements. Now was not the time to think about Vanessa Grant and her schemes. He had already refused her last night and could only hope that she would take the refusal at face value. He had no interest in being her boy toy. Or anything else. So, he had not even heard the proposal and left.
He took a deep breath and tried to focus, to channel his energy into the character waiting for him. He rubbed his temples, closed his eyes for a moment, and tried to breathe away the heaviness pressing on his chest. The voices of the production crew broke through his silence.
"Steven, next!"
He opened his eyes. In an instant, Elliott—the cold, calculating man, the one who carried secrets and grudges—was gone. What remained was Steven.
Languidly, with a grace that would have seemed unnatural on any other man, Steven stepped forward. His eyes were bright, moist, holding the glimmer of unshed emotion. A shy spark lingered in his gaze, the kind of vulnerability that pulled people in without them realizing it.
He moved to his marker beside the actress who played the chaser. Already familiar with the script, he lowered his eyes as he faced her and let the role slip into his voice.
"You called for me."
The woman smirked, stepped closer, her confidence radiating as she placed a hand lightly on his shoulder.
"Yes," she purred. "I have a proposal for you, Steven."
Elliott—no, Steven—frowned. The moment faltered.
"Cut!" the director barked. His voice echoed through the set. "Steven, you're supposed to be seduced by her. Look down at her hand as she traces your shoulder. Let her feel that she is getting somewhere with you..."
Elliott straightened and shook his head slightly. "Director, touching the shoulder is too common. It feels flat. Something is missing."
The director frowned at him but said nothing. Everyone on set knew Elliott's habit of improvising mid-scene. Most of the time, those changes were the very moments that became unforgettable for the audience, the ones people replayed over and over, pushing series to become famous.
"What do you suggest, then?" the director asked after a pause.
Elliott took a breath, weighing his words as he remembered last night. "Instead of her hand on my shoulder, let her rise, walk behind me or circle me, and place her touch on my lower back. Have her glide her fingers upward, slowly. That… feels more intimate. More dangerous."
The set went quiet for a moment as the director considered it. Even as Elliott spoke, a memory jolted through him and he was irritated with himself.
Because what he had said was exactly what Vanessa Grant had done. She had placed her hand on his lower back—just for a second, just to nudge him forward. It had been nothing, casual, almost careless. Yet the touch had burned into him, unexpected, leaving a mark he could not shake.
And now, standing under the lights, he realized he was trying to recreate that moment. But even as irritated as he was, he knew that it was the right direction. At the director's nod, he took his position again and bowed his head...
"Cut."
As the scene came to an end, Elliott could already see that the director was very happy with the scene. But he was not. Because each re-take of the scene had reminded him of how she had touched him there. It had taken all his concentration to shoot the scene while keeping his character.
Done with the scene, he went towards his vanity to get ready for the next one...and found Skylar standing there with a weird look on his face.
He paused," What is it now?"
"There is a gift for you."
Elliott frowned. " A gift? What happened to the agency's rule?"
Skylar frowned," Umm, it's from the same person who sent the letter yestersay."
Skylar dared not ask why Vanessa Grant had summoned Elliott. But judging by the man's mood, it could not be anything good. And now, even as he watced, Elliott's face, he knew that the 'gift' might not meet a good end.
Elliott walked into the vanity and noticed the box sitting on the table and paused. "What is it?"
Skylar shook his head," I don't know. I did not check."
Elliott frowned and noticed the name on the box. A flower shop. He shook his head. So cliche. Sending flowers. Judging by the box, it must be roses or some such thing... He opened the box, expecting that and then blinked...
Picked up the note and read," This reminded me of you...It is called the 'Devil's Tongue'. What do you think?"
Elliott blinked. Never before had he received a gift like that saying that it reminded them of him... A cactus reminded Vanessa Grant of him?