By the end of the week, Clara was exhausted. Adrian's schedule was relentless rehearsals, interviews, photo shoots, and late-night planning sessions. She had managed to keep him on time for every appearance, shielded him from nosy reporters, and even anticipated his moods before they boiled over.
But nothing could prepare her for the chaos of the Friday night press conference.
The hotel ballroom buzzed with journalists and flashing cameras. Adrian was seated at the center table, flanked by executives from StarVision. Clara stood just off to the side, her notepad ready. She wasn't supposed to say anything only observe. But when a reporter asked about a rumored feud between Adrian and another singer, she saw his jaw tighten.
"Mr. Cole," the reporter pressed, "is it true you walked out of a collaboration project last month because you felt the other artist wasn't at your level?"
Adrian's smirk was quick and sharp. "If people can't keep up with me, that's their problem, not mine."
The room erupted in murmurs, pens scribbling, cameras clicking. Clara's stomach sank. She knew how this would look tomorrow arrogant, dismissive, exactly the kind of headline his PR team hated.
On instinct, she stepped forward and leaned toward him. "Adrian," she whispered, her voice low but urgent, "just say you respect the artist and move on."
His head snapped toward her, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"
Clara froze. She hadn't meant to say it loud enough for the microphones to pick up. But the damage was done the room quieted, every camera now pointed at the assistant who dared to interrupt Adrian Cole.
Adrian's smirk vanished. Slowly, he leaned into his mic, his voice cold. "It seems my assistant thinks she speaks for me now."
A ripple of laughter and whispers spread through the crowd. Clara felt her cheeks burn, but she forced herself to stay steady.
After the conference ended in a storm of questions, Adrian stormed off stage, his steps sharp, his shoulders tense. Clara followed, clutching her notepad.
The moment they were alone in the dressing room, he turned on her. "What the hell was that?"
"I was trying to help....."
"Help?" He laughed bitterly. "You embarrassed me in front of every journalist in the city. Do you know how fast that clip is going to spread?"
Clara's temper, frayed from exhaustion, finally snapped. "I embarrassed you? Adrian, you were about to make yourself look like an egotistical jerk! I was trying to save you."
"I don't need saving," he snapped, his voice echoing off the walls. "Least of all from someone who doesn't understand this world."
Clara stepped closer, her eyes blazing. "Maybe that's your problem! You're so used to people worshipping you that you can't handle the truth when someone tells you."
His chest rose and fell heavily as they stood inches apart, neither backing down. His eyes searched hers, filled with anger but also something rawer something he couldn't hide fast enough.
"You think you know me?" he said finally, his voice dropping low. "You've been here what, a week? You have no idea what it takes to stay on top, Clara. No idea what I've had to sacrifice."
Clara's anger faltered just enough for her voice to soften. "Maybe I don't. But I see the man who pushes himself until he can barely stand. I see the cracks you hide when the cameras aren't looking. And I see someone who doesn't trust anyone enough to let them in."
Adrian stared at her, his expression unreadable. The silence between them pulsed with tension, heavier than any argument. For a second, Clara thought he might actually say something real something vulnerable.
But then he stepped back, putting distance between them. His smirk returned, sharp and cold. "Careful, Clara. You're forgetting your place."
The words stung more than she expected. Clara bit her lip, nodding once before grabbing her bag. "Then maybe I should remind myself why I'm here. To do a job. Nothing more."
She walked out before he could reply, her heart pounding in her chest.
Behind her, Adrian sank into a chair, running a hand through his hair. For once, the silence of an empty room felt heavier than the roar of any crowd.
And though he'd never admit it, her words had struck deeper than he wanted to believe.