Charlotte, who had been trying to use kind words, was now reaching her limits. Time was gold, and for all she knew, another artist might already be on their way to seduce him.
She didn't need to teach Emma what to do—because when it came to putting food on her family's table, Emma always found a way to achieve everything she set her mind on or was tasked with.
She was just so perfect.
"You said you would do as I asked, girl." Charlotte's gaze turned sharp instantly, her tone cold and heavy.
"Are you trying to go back on your words? Growing wings because you've been getting mini roles that put a little change in your pockets?" she asked, voice laced with disappointment and warning.
Emma couldn't help but blink profusely. She had completely forgotten she once said those very words—back when Charlotte first took her under her wings. Everything had come easily for her since then. Her beauty fit every role perfectly, and Charlotte had never struggled to get her cast.
Seeing her words sinking in, Charlotte continued relentlessly. "I've spent a lot on you, girl. This is a golden opportunity. If you ruin this setup, I'm sorry to say this—but I'm giving up on you. And that will be after you pay me back for all I invested in you. Your clothes, your hairdos, your adornments…"
She kept listing them one by one, her tone sharp as a blade, while Emma sat frozen, already trembling with fear.
Her mind drifted to her family—how they still owed money to people who claimed her father borrowed from them before he died. She was still struggling to repay those debts and could hardly bear to think of adding another one to it.
Patting Emma's shaking shoulders softly, Charlotte's tone shifted once again—this time gentle, persuasive.
"You can do it, Emma. It will change your family's situation as well…"
The words hung in the air, sweet yet poisonous.
Emma took a deep, trembling breath and extended her right hand to take the room card from Charlotte.
"That's my girl," Charlotte said proudly, pressing the card into her palm.
---
Dressed in a simple knee-length maroon gown, her face set in determination and her brown hair cascading down her back, Emma now stood in front of room 105 of the hotel.
She took another deep breath, and within seconds, her nervousness seemed to vanish—sealed away by something stronger. Only determination remained in her heart, visible even in the firmness of her expression.
After glancing around to ensure no one was watching, she swiped the card. The door unlocked with a soft click. The meeting wouldn't begin for another seven hours, giving her enough time to do what she came to do.
She stepped into the room.
The interior was breathtaking—decorated in pristine white, so bright that she wondered how anyone could stay there for long without straining their eyes. But before her gaze could wander too much, her breath hitched.
A figure emerged before her.
Silver hair, cut low on both sides, with the longer strands at the center swept from the back to the front, resting on his forehead and partially covering his left eye.
A sharp, angular jawline. Thin, pale-orange lips that almost looked unhealthy—but somehow only made him more striking. And those golden-yellow eyes—too vivid, too unnatural. Surely, they had to be contact lenses.
Emma's gaze unconsciously traced downward, to the prominent Adam's apple that accentuated his masculinity despite his almost boyish face. She swallowed hard.
He looked perfect.
If only he weren't glaring daggers at her.
Her eyes drifted further—down to his well-defined chest, to the perfect rows of abs that looked too real to be human. The white towel loosely wrapped around his waist had slipped just enough to tease the curve of his pelvis, and Emma nearly fainted on the spot.
"Have you stared enough?"
His voice—deep, rich, and sinfully smooth—snapped her out of her daze. She looked up into his frosty gaze, shivering under the weight of it but quickly straightening her back.
No matter what, she had to do this. She had to sleep with this man tonight.
His name was Brian Michael—the man every woman dreamed about. Even though Emma barely had the time to watch television due to her family burdens, how could she not know him?
His face was everywhere—on billboards, advertisements, posters, and magazine covers. He was the screensaver of nearly every college girl's phone.
And seeing him now, in the flesh, she realized the camera had never done him justice. His skin glowed with a divine sheen, almost too perfect, too blinding.
He wasn't just handsome. He was otherworldly.
Emma gulped again. She had once believed all the muscle and abs shown on screen were enhanced by lighting or editing. But standing here, she realized those cameramen hadn't even captured half of his perfection.
He looked more unreal in person than on any screen.
"If you're done, get out," Brian said coldly. He hadn't received an answer to his first question, and the silence irritated him. He turned to leave—then stopped mid-step.
Something in her expression had shifted.
The fear that clouded her moments ago was gone, replaced by the same determination she had walked in with. Brian's golden eyes narrowed slightly.
"Seems like you're ready to talk," he said, his voice still velvety smooth but laced with unmistakable coldness.
"I want the female lead role," Emma said, meeting his gaze with unflinching seriousness.
Brian's lips curved into a half-scoff. His eyes swept over her from head to toe, his expression unreadable. Despite the lack of makeup, she was undeniably beautiful—a rare, natural kind of beauty that didn't need embellishment. She fit the role perfectly.
But what made her think he would ever choose her? What made her believe she was worthy enough to touch him—to share a scene with him, let alone his body?
He was about to dismiss her outright, but something in her composure caught his attention. She wasn't an experienced seductress—she hadn't even bothered to paint her face or dress provocatively like the others who had come before her. She looked nervous, yet she was forcing herself to appear composed.
"Why do you think I'd agree to that?" Brian asked, locking eyes with her. His gaze flicked briefly to her trembling hands—fingers twitching as if fighting the urge to clutch the fabric of her gown.
"Because…" Emma swallowed, forcing out the words she had rehearsed in her head. "Because I can have sex."
Her voice wavered only slightly as she tried to sound mature, professional—even confident.
Brian exhaled sharply through his nose, rolling his eyes at her idiocy.