Chapter 2

On the way there, my phone wouldn't stop ringing.

Besides Maya's relentless calls, there were several numbers I didn't recognize—definitely gossip reporters or people from the company.

When I finally stood in front of the elevator on the top floor of Starlight Studios, my phone showed 33 missed calls.

This definitely wasn't some minor incident.

I noticed the usually bustling reception area was unusually quiet. Several employees immediately stopped talking when they saw me, giving me strange looks.

My palms were sweating.

The elevator doors opened, and I heard heated arguing coming from the boardroom.

"This kind of scandal will cost us $30 million in IPO valuation!" A sharp male voice was practically roaring.

"Investors are already pulling out. We need to handle this security incident immediately!"

My legs went weak. Security incident?

I tiptoed toward Ryan's office, and through the glass wall of the conference room, I saw a scene that made my heart stop—seven or eight suited board members standing in a circle, each looking as grim as storm clouds.

"Mr. Herman, you must give us an explanation!" The board chairman's fist-pounding was so loud it made the glass tremble.

That's when Ryan's office door opened.

He was wearing a deep blue shirt, looking even more stern and unapproachable than last night. But when his gaze locked onto me, the air instantly froze.

"Ms. Blake." His voice was terrifyingly calm. "Please come in."

I walked into his office trembling, the Hollywood Hills gleaming in the sunlight through the floor-to-ceiling windows, but I was in no mood to appreciate the view.

"Did I... did I do something last night?" My voice was barely a whisper. "I don't remember anything, but if I hurt you or the company, I'm really—"

"You want to know what you did?" Ryan cut me off.

He walked to his desk and slowly, deliberately unbuttoned the first three buttons of his shirt.

My eyes went wide.

His chest was covered in red marks—obvious scratches and bite marks extending from his collarbone down to his abs. The entire office suddenly felt scorching hot.

"Evidence speaks for itself." Ryan rebuttoned his shirt, his expression still calm. "Last night you used me as your 'research subject' for about two hours of 'immersive acting practice.'"

I felt all the blood rush to my head: "Oh my God... I... I thought that was a dream..."

Dear God, what did I do? Those marks... I left all of them?

"Unfortunately, the current rumor circulating is that I was 'attacked' by some mysterious actress. The board is now investigating to identify her." Ryan walked to the floor-to-ceiling window with his back to me. "If they discover that the 'attacker' was actually one of our own production assistants at a company party... what do you think that would do to our IPO?"

My legs completely gave out, and I grabbed the chair back to keep from falling: "I'll... I'll resign. I'll take full responsibility. I'll—"

"Resign?" Ryan turned around, a glint I couldn't read flashing in his eyes. "Ms. Blake, do you think it's that simple to solve this problem?"

Just then, louder arguing erupted from the conference room: "If this can't be handled properly, we demand Ryan Herman's resignation!"

My face went ashen: "They... they want you to resign? Because of me?"

I'm finished. I didn't just ruin myself—I'm going to destroy Ryan's career too. I'm a complete disaster.

Ryan sat back down behind his desk, his long fingers tapping the surface. Each tap felt like it was hitting my heart.

"Now, we need damage control." His voice suddenly became businesslike. "I have a solution."

"What solution?" I asked, almost pleading.

"You become my girlfriend."

The air seemed to freeze for three seconds.

"WHAT?" My voice shot up an octave.

Did he just say what I think he said? Girlfriend? Am I still drunk and hallucinating?

"Professional consultation basis." Ryan continued tapping the desk. "You're a qualified acting coach, I need coaching. We announce this as a private relationship, and all the 'physical evidence' has a reasonable explanation."

My brain short-circuited: "This... isn't this prostitution? You want to buy me with money?"

Ryan stopped tapping and fixed me with his sharp gaze: "This is a business contract. You provide professional acting consultation, I provide compensation and protection. Many Hollywood couples start this way."

"But—"

"Or," Ryan's voice grew colder, "you can choose to face legal department investigation, bear legal responsibility for damaging company reputation, and then be completely blacklisted in Hollywood."

I felt the whole world spinning. This wasn't really a choice—either accept these humiliating terms or be completely finished in Hollywood.

To keep my job, I have to agree to these humiliating conditions? Go from production assistant to... what? Contract girlfriend?

"I..." my voice trembled, "is this really my only option?"

Ryan's expression softened slightly: "Emma, this isn't humiliation. This is mutual benefit."

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Ryan's assistant Lisa walked in carrying a stack of documents.

"Mr. Herman, the contracts are ready." Lisa's efficiency was astounding, as if she'd known this would happen all along. "Confidentiality agreement, consulting agreement, and living arrangement details."

I stared at the documents in a daze: "You... you had this prepared already?"

What's going on? He planned all of this in advance?

"I'm always prepared for all scenarios." Ryan took the documents. "The moving company will arrive at your apartment in two hours, and the Malibu house is ready."

"Malibu house?" I felt like I was dreaming.

Lisa efficiently explained: "Ocean-view villa, private screening room, professional editing suite. It completely meets your creative needs."

Wait, a Malibu beach house? That's what I've always dreamed of!

Ryan opened one of the documents: "Consulting fee is $500,000 per month."

My phone rang just then, and I looked down to see a transfer notification: $500,000 deposited.

My eyes nearly popped out: "This... half a million a month? This is professional rate?"

My God, $500,000? I don't make that much in a year!

"Professional rate for professional service." Ryan stood up, straightening his sleeves. "Do you have any questions now?"

My mind was chaos, but just then my phone rang again.

Maya's text: [OMG! My brother never brings women home—you're the first! What did he do to you?!]

I stared at the message, suddenly feeling something cold creep up my spine.

"What do you mean 'the first'?" I looked up at Ryan. "You never bring women home?"

Ryan's expression immediately became uncomfortable: "That's... that's not important."

"But Maya says I'm the first." I suddenly realized something. "This contract is more complicated than I thought, isn't it?"

Why would I be the first? This definitely isn't some random business decision.

Lisa tactfully exited the office, leaving us staring at each other.

Ryan walked to the window, avoiding my gaze: "Business is business, Emma. Don't overthink it."

But my direct stare left him nowhere to hide: "Ryan, is this really just business? Why me? Why specifically me?"

Ryan's hands clenched into fists, his silhouette looking more tense than before.

I looked down at my phone screen—Maya's message about being "the first" still glowing above the $500,000 transfer notification. My thumb hovered over the screen for a moment before I slowly lifted my gaze back to Ryan's rigid shoulders.

He remained silent, still facing the floor-to-ceiling windows, the morning light casting long shadows across his office floor.

I gripped my phone tighter and took a step toward him.

"Ryan."

His shoulders tensed even more, but he didn't turn around.

The distant sound of the boardroom argument seemed to fade away, leaving only the quiet tension between us and all the questions hanging in the air.