Noelle was staring at her laptop screen. The cursor was flashing next to the last words she had written. It was around the hundred-fiftieth time she had typed these words. Every time she wrote them over the past days, she hit the keys way too hard. She knew the poor keyboard wasn't to blame, but she had to release the pressure somehow. These were the words that brought her here. These were the words that drove her mad.
Luca West.
The only thing she felt remotely proud of was one small accomplishment: she was officially repulsed by him. He was the worst thing that could happen to anyone. Arrogant, lofty, controlling, toxic, always ready to mock and sprinkle free irony on top. What hurt the most was that this behaviour was only reserved for her - with everyone else, he was kind, polite or professional. Her? She was garbage!
Already serving as his assistant for five full days, she had been frequently fantasizing about him being brought to a hospital full of bandages. All the bones of his body broken, his eyes blackened and swollen, his mouth dripping blood...
Her time on set so far was full of trivial and tiresome tasks. She was asked to run errands, search for people, fetch items, deliver messages... In general, whenever anyone needed something and Lucafer overheard it, he would simply say: "Christmas can help!"
Everyone was using her real name. But she could overhear them many times referring to her as Christmas when talking about her or looking for her.
That Friday, she had agreed with Lexi to skip the set. Lucafer was dissatisfied with her absence—he'd come to expect her there every single day. But she was desperate to make progress on her paper, so she stayed in the office while Lexi ran errands.
For the first time, she was completely alone. With Noah always in meetings, the space was hers. She scattered her notes across the desk and began typing furiously.
She was thrilled by the volume of information she had gathered. The problem was, she felt like she was missing the core of the thesis. She had mountains of data but no central conclusion. She still didn't understand what she was trying to prove.
Chloe had shared tools, company reports, and high-level strategies, but not the master plan. Files labelled 'Confidential' remained out of reach. Her task, as set by Professor Butler, was to find the story within the selective data she had. She had to reverse-engineer the logic behind every career move—each song, each role, each public appearance—and divine why the team chose path A over path B. She had to extract meaning from what was available, but the grand pattern still eluded her.
She finally took a break from drafting paragraph 2.3, 'Fandom and Community Building,' and headed to the kitchen for coffee. On her way, an idea surfaced: she needed to map everything on a timeline. Plotting his career milestones against data points like popularity spikes and revenue growth might finally reveal the bigger picture and lead her to her conclusion.
As she entered the kitchen, she nearly bumped into Abby.
What is she doing here?
Abby's studio was on the floor below. When she wasn't there, she was usually in meetings, debating the perfect look for a certain celebrity for a certain occasion. Their encounters had been few, but Noelle had always found her to be sweet and caring.
She remembered one day in particular, after the incident with Isabella. Abby had stopped by her desk and left a small box of chocolates. She'd mentioned a friend who found solace in chips during bad times, but said she personally believed chocolate was far more appropriate for situations like these.
Noelle had eaten a couple of the chocolates and had, indeed, felt a little better. She'd saved the rest in the fridge—a necessary reserve for the next difficult moment, which was inevitable as long as she had to be near that guy.
Abby was a truly impressive woman. She was in her early forties but looked shockingly younger. Yet her most striking feature wasn't her age, but her impeccable style. She was a master of any combination she tried. Like today, she had somehow paired an animal-print skirt with a reddish T-shirt. It was awesome.
"Hi Noelle, sweetheart! I haven't seen you the past couple of days," Abby greeted her warmly.
"Good morning! Yes, I was with Lexi on the set. I'm working there now. Too..." she said, her voice a complete void of excitement.
"Oh! I wasn't aware. Do you find it interesting there?" Abby asked.
It was a normal question, the kind anyone would politely ask. Yet, waves of rage crashed against her thoughts. She wanted to scream: 'I hate it there! It's a nightmare!' Instead, she buried her true feelings and gave the answer that was expected. "Of course! I'm learning a lot of new things," Noelle said.
"Like what?" Abby asked again.
'Like what is the best brand of sparkling mineral water, and how fast I can fetch a script from a bag.'
She just said: "Filming is complicated and demanding work. I'm learning how the teams cooperate to achieve the best results. I think if you can work successfully on a set, you can do anything."
Abby paused for a moment, nodding and smiling. Then she said, "Well done, Noelle! I think you'll do great in any interview!"
Noelle was puzzled. "What do you mean?"
"Isn't it obvious? You gave a reasonable and respectful answer. You said all the right words," Abby said.
Noelle began to suspect this woman could see right through her. She hated when people could read her mind. "Was that an interview?"
"No, it wasn't. But I don't think you're telling the truth. I don't know you well, though, so I might be wrong." Abby leaned in slightly. "How can you enjoy the set when you-know-who is the one starring in the show? Is he behaving well? Or is he still scheming against you, trying to convince others to get rid of you?"
"Is he trying to turn people against me?"
"He's trying hard to get what he wants. It's rare to see him try so hard, all by himself. You obviously inspire him," Abby replied.
"Inspire? Yes, I inspire disgust. But why are you telling me all this? You're one of his oldest and closest associates."
"It's precisely because I care for him that I'm telling you" Abby said. "Keep an eye on him, so he won't do anything stupid. He never considers the consequences. He breaks things, not because he wants to, but because he holds them too tight. Expect him to screw you over at any time."
Noelle was shocked. She knew he was horrid, with his absurd demands and general unpleasantness. Was it something darker?
Is he playing the demanding star to make me quit or is he planning something bigger?
"Don't overthink it. Just stay alert," Abby added, seeing her concern.
"Thank you. I will."
"So, I feel I need to know you better. Tell me, what do you like to do off work?" Abby asked, lightening the conversation.
That question always made her uneasy. Was she supposed to say something impressive? The real issue was her fear of being exposed as utterly lame. But in this case, she found she didn't even care. She would flee that office any moment now and Abby would likely forget all about her in a matter of days.
"Well, not much. I usually watch a movie or a show, spend hours scrolling on my phone, and take long walks around the city," Noelle said, indifferent to Abby's judgment.
"That wasn't an interview answer, but it's a great way to learn a thing or two about you. Good job! I like the same things, but I also love going out for a drink or to dance. Would you like to come along sometime? Lexi and I go out now and then."
Of course she did! But it had been so long, stranded alone in a foreign country and...
Excuses... You are lame, girl!
She tried to defend herself: "Back home, I used to go out with friends. Not often, but I enjoy it too."
"The things we like the most aren't the things we do daily. They're the things we save for special occasions. You probably don't know many people here, so come with us to relax and have fun," Abby proposed.
It felt nice. This was the first invitation she'd received in almost two years. Since starting her post-graduate classes, she failed to make new friends. As time flew by, the invitations stopped—for meals, walks, movies, anything. And it was all his fault! If it weren't for him, she would have a normal life.
Wait a minute. No, she wouldn't.
It was all her fault... Even before her master plan was set in motion, making new friends and fitting in had never been her strongest attribute. She had always been reserved, always giving the bare minimum. It wasn't fair to blame him for her own deficiencies.
Now, faced with a genuine offer, she was still reserved. More like afraid. She kept everything locked inside, terrified someone would discover what was in her mind and heart.
Why do I feel like this? I really need to see a therapist.
"Thank you! I'll come along when I have time," Noelle said. She was always polite, always cautious.
"Great! We'll keep you posted!" Abby said. She looked thoughtful for a moment, then added: "I'm not sure why, but I feel I owe you a favor."
"A favor? To me? No way!" Noelle said.
"I told you, I don't know why, so please hear me out. I have a ton of clothes downstairs, and I can lend you something whenever you feel like it."
Noelle was speechless. "Um... Thank you. I don't need any clothing..." she muttered.
"I know. I've noticed what you usually wear—trying to stay under the radar, correct? I guess you don't pay too much attention to your outfits. Try putting on something else. You might feel better. Or more confident. Or just pretty!"
"Thank you. I'll come if a special occasion arises," Noelle agreed.
"Come even if a special occasion doesn't arise." Abby said. "Bye for now. I have to run to a meeting," she added, walking away after giving Noelle's arm a friendly squeeze.
Noelle was puzzled again. Abby reaching out with friendship, offering favors and clothes... She couldn't help but find it strange. She seemed too genuine. But then again she seemed to know something.
Noelle couldn't stop herself from thinking: What the hell is he cooking?