In the quiet hallway of the hotel, three uniformed waiters slowly approached a luxury suite. The white man wearing glasses and a short Black man quickly pulled out miniature DV cameras from their cleaning bags, turning them on and aiming them at the room ahead.
One of the waiters glanced at the door number and said, "This is the one."
The man with glasses urged, "Morrison, open the door. Let's get inside."
"If we can capture footage of Matthew Horner and Emma Watson being intimate..." the Black man murmured, "we'll hit the jackpot!"
"Are we... are we really doing this?" Morrison, the waiter at the door, hesitated. "I'll definitely get fired by the hotel."
The man with glasses coaxed him, "Once we get the explosive footage, each of us could easily make fifty thousand pounds. Why would you still need this lousy job?"
The promise of money was tempting, and Morrison asked again, "Are you sure?"
The Black paparazzo chimed in, "Did you see The Sun today? The photos of Matthew Horner and Emma Watson spending the night together? We took those, and we made ten thousand pounds in bonus money."
As he spoke, he winked at the man with glasses.
Catching on, the man with glasses added, "Are you really going to pass up fifty thousand pounds?"
The Black paparazzo and the man with glasses exchanged a glance, no longer pressuring Morrison, leaving the decision up to him.
Morrison gritted his teeth, finally making up his mind. He knew that every time he provided The Sun with a tip, he earned between fifty to a hundred pounds. The Sun was known for being generous with valuable news.
"This is a key card I swiped from the floor's suite manager." Morrison pulled out a black card from his pocket. "Matthew Horner rarely uses the hotel's services, so this key card almost never gets used."
Stepping forward, Morrison swiped the card and twisted the door handle, checking his phone for an update. "Matthew Horner and Emma Watson just finished dinner. They're on their way back. Hurry up!"
The man with glasses gestured to the Black paparazzo, and the two quickly slipped into the room.
Morrison didn't follow them in. Instead, he gently closed the door and moved to the end of the hallway, pulling out a cleaning cart and pretending to tidy up the area.
Not long after, the elevator made a soft "ding," and Matthew and Emma Watson stepped out, laughing and chatting as they walked.
Feeling nervous, Morrison kept his head down, not daring to look at them directly. He could only hear their voices, sounding quite close and intimate.
"Damn couple!" Morrison muttered under his breath.
"How long are you staying in London?" Emma asked Matthew as they walked. "I noticed you're really into football. If you have time, I can take you to a game."
They had been talking about the Premier League while at dinner.
Matthew shook his head. "I'll probably be here for just over a week. Director Nolan moved the Paris scenes to London for shooting." He paused, then added, "I also have Fast & Furious 4 press events coming up. I might not have time to catch a game."
Emma seemed a bit disappointed. "I was hoping to take you to see the Manchester United versus Tottenham match this weekend. Maybe another time."
As they passed by Morrison, Matthew gave him a curious glance before pulling out his key card to open the door.
"What's wrong?" Emma noticed the brief change in Matthew's expression and asked.
Matthew swiped the card and opened the door, lowering his voice. "I've been staying here for a while, and I've never seen anyone cleaning the hallway at night."
Emma shrugged it off. "Maybe someone made a mess."
Before stepping inside, Matthew glanced back at the waiter, just in time to catch him looking as well. The waiter quickly looked away, avoiding eye contact.
"Come on, let's go," Emma urged, leaning in close to whisper in his ear. "How much longer are you going to make me wait?"
Matthew couldn't shake the feeling that something was off about the waiter. He seemed to be avoiding him, like he was hiding something.
But with Emma pushing him along, he didn't dwell on it and pulled her into the room, closing the door behind them and immediately kissing her.
After less than ten seconds of kissing, Matthew suddenly pulled away. Emma, biting her lip in frustration, asked, "What now?"
Leaning in close, Matthew whispered in her ear, as if he was playfully nibbling, but in reality, he was speaking in a low, cautious voice. "Something's not right."
From the moment they entered the room and began kissing, Matthew had felt like someone was watching them. It was a gut instinct he had developed from years of living in front of cameras. Whenever a camera was pointed at him, he got a strange sensation, almost like a sixth sense.
It wasn't just him; many actors experienced this. In fact, it was a kind of occupational hazard.
Many skilled actors could sense where the camera was during dynamic scenes on set, even without looking directly at it.
Perhaps due to heightened sensitivity, Matthew was more attuned to this feeling than most people.
However, this was still just an instinctive reaction, and he couldn't be 100% certain.
Even as he continued to embrace Emma, he grew more alert. Suddenly, the image of that suspicious waiter flashed in his mind.
This was the land of the paparazzi, the origin of some of the most relentless photographers in the world. He remembered reading somewhere that British paparazzi were audacious enough to spy on royalty and government ministers.
It could be paparazzi—or it could be something more dangerous.
Naturally cautious by nature, Matthew immediately reached into his pocket and pressed a miniature alarm button.
"Don't move," he whispered into Emma's ear. "Someone might have sneaked into the room."
He positioned himself in front of Emma, protecting her in case of any sudden moves.
If there were indeed dangerous intruders, any unnecessary actions could be disastrous.
Thankfully, despite her young age, Emma had enough experience to stay calm. She draped her arms around Matthew's neck, maintaining the appearance of a couple in love.
This was, after all, a Hilton Hotel luxury suite with many rooms, including a study that faced away from the main entrance and had a door left slightly ajar.
Inside that study, the two paparazzi from The Sun stood behind the door.
The man with glasses had an excited gleam in his eyes. This was going to be their big break.
The Black paparazzo next to him was equally thrilled, silently pumping his fists in anticipation. He kept thinking, When are those two going to get to the real action?
The two weren't worried about being discovered. The study was a safe spot. Normally, a couple wouldn't venture into a study for this kind of thing. Even if they did, the paparazzi could always hide inside the large, empty bookshelf.
Morrison had given them plenty of information about the room layout before they entered.
The man with glasses and the Black paparazzo exchanged glances, both seeing stacks of cash in each other's eyes. If they could capture real footage of Matthew Horner and Emma Watson in action, how much would The Sun pay them?
Actually, forget The Sun—they could sell it to the highest bidder. Whoever offered the most money would get it.
Photos of Hollywood's top couples' weddings or children could sell for millions. How much would they make from this footage of two of Hollywood's hottest stars, Matthew Horner and Emma Watson?
They were going to be rich.
Even giving Morrison fifty thousand pounds as a cut wouldn't be a big deal.
As seasoned paparazzi for The Sun, the man with glasses and the Black paparazzo knew exactly how valuable this kind of scoop was.
Their hands shook with excitement. They weren't just anticipating money; fame awaited them, too.
They'd become superstars in the world of entertainment journalism!
With that thought, they steadied their hands, aiming the miniature cameras squarely at the suite's entrance.
The couple was still embracing, but nothing had really happened yet.
Suddenly, the couple separated. The man with glasses and the Black paparazzo's eyes widened, ready to witness something steamy.
Watching celebrities in action up close? What a rare opportunity!
Especially with someone like Matthew Horner, whose reputation for romantic exploits was legendary, even among British journalists.
But just as Matthew and Emma pulled apart, he quickly opened the door and whisked Emma out into the hallway.
Brown Williams and the rest of the bodyguards had arrived.
"Someone might have gotten into my room," Matthew said quickly. "Check it out."
"Go," Brown Williams ordered the others.
He stayed by Matthew's side, along with another guard. As a bodyguard, the most important thing was protecting the client.
All of this was observed by Morrison, who wasted no time in pulling his cleaning cart away as fast as possible.
The man with glasses and the Black paparazzo, still hiding in the study, were confused. Why had Matthew and Emma suddenly left? Were they planning something wild in the hallway? Everyone knew celebrities and models had peculiar tastes...
Before they could decide whether to follow, the room door was flung open, and four burly men in black suits stormed in. Each of them had something bulky and likely hard concealed under their jackets.
The two paparazzi had seen these men before. They knew they were Matthew's bodyguards, and immediately realized they were in trouble.
"Run!" the Black paparazzo whispered, making a dash for the window.
The man with glasses didn't move. They were on the 33rd floor, and while
there were plenty of windows, jumping out...
The Black paparazzo froze when he reached the window. No amount of courage would make him jump.
The two were trapped inside the study.
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