Scenes We Can’t Rehearse.
Luca dropped me off at the company and wished me luck. I thanked him quickly, jumped out of the car, and practically sprinted through the entrance, praying I wasn’t late.
“Oh my goodness, Angel!” Danielle appeared out of nowhere, grabbing my wrist, her face painted with panic.
My stomach dropped.
“Hey, Danielle…” I greeted her cautiously, but before I could ask what was wrong, she pulled me toward the hallway.
“We have no time, Angel! Mr. D’Amano is back, and he’s been waiting for over an hour.”
My lips parted. “He’s here already?” I whispered, frozen for a moment.
I knew he was coming back today, but I didn’t expect him to show up this early.
I’d hoped for a final rehearsal—just something to steady my nerves before diving into the shooting.
We rushed into the studio where the whole crew was already assembled, all eyes turning to me.
I gave them an apologetic smile, but the moment my gaze swept the room and found him, my breath caught.
The devil himself.
Raul D’Amano.
In the two months I’d worked here, this was the first time I’d seen him not in all white.
Today, he wore a navy-blue suit that sculpted every inch of his broad frame, paired with a white shirt so thin, it did nothing to protect my already corrupted imagination.
He was seated with his legs spread, elbows on his knees, hands interlocked, the silver rings on his fingers catching the light.
His blue eyes—cold, electric, haunting—stared straight into mine. His curly hair was tied into its usual careless bun, but nothing about him ever felt careless.
I swallowed hard and looked away. If I didn’t, I was going to melt into a puddle before the first scene even started.
“Okay, it’s time everyone—let’s begin!” The director, Hunter, called out.
Before we could begin, Roseline Matthews—the author of the soon-to-be film adaptation—approached me with a warm smile and four colored papers fanned out in her hand.
“W-what’s this for?” I asked, confused.
She laughed softly.
“Picking the male lead was too difficult. They all fit the character, so we decided to let you pick. That way, it feels fair.”
I nodded, understanding. I’d read her book cover to cover, and I knew what kind of chemistry the lead roles would require—intense, sensual, and dangerously intimate.
With a deep breath, I picked a pink paper, unfolded it… and nearly dropped it.
The name glared back at me like a dare.
Raul D’Amano.
Was this a joke? Wasn’t he the producer?
“Who is it, Angel?” Danielle asked eagerly.
I didn’t respond immediately. My eyes drifted across the room to Raul.
He was still seated, watching me calmly, his expression unreadable.
I cleared my throat and muttered, “Mr. D’Amano.”
The room erupted in gasps and whispers.
“Well, that’s a perfect choice!” Roseline clapped with excitement.
Hunter gave the cue to begin. I headed off to wardrobe for the first scene—a pole dance scene, of all things—when the door burst open.
“This can’t happen. Stop this right now.”
The sharp voice halted everything.
“Cut!” Hunter called out, the slate clapping shut as all eyes turned toward the interruption.
Catalina.
She stormed in, clad in a sleek black dress that clung to her like second skin, white stilettos accentuating her already impossibly long legs.
Her eyes blazed with fury as they locked on Raul.
“I’m sorry, Roseline, but Raul can’t play the male lead for ‘Black Week.’ The other three actors rehearsed too. You can pick any of them.”
My fists clenched at my sides. Being the boss’s wife didn’t give her the right to barge in and call the shots like this.
Roseline’s face tensed. “I don’t understand why, Mrs. D’Amano.”
Catalina’s glare was ice cold.
“If you don’t realize, Roseline, your book contains an unhealthy amount of sex scenes—acted out by the leads. Raul is married. I will not stand by while another woman touches my husband.”
Hunter tried to diffuse the tension.
“They don’t have to actually do anything, Catalina. Green screen….”
“I don’t give a fuck about green screen, Hunter,” she snapped. “Bottom line, they’ll still get close. Too close.”
Raul stood slowly. His deep voice sliced through the tension like steel.
“Carry on with the shooting.”
Gasps echoed around the room.
“I said carry on,” he repeated sharply.
We all tried to ignore the tension brewing and focus on the task but it was difficult.
Catalina opened her mouth to speak but he cutoff whatever she was about to say with a raised hand.
“Be civil, Catalina.”
He grabbed her elbow, his cold glare locked on her furious ones.
Even while filming restarted, I couldn’t stop watching the storm unfolding off set.
I didn’t blame her entirely. If I were her, I’d probably lose my mind too. But this… this was a professional space. Or at least it was supposed to be.
Catalina’s lips curled.
“Fine. If you insist on playing the lead, then I’ll be the female lead.”
Roseline stood up so quickly her chair almost fell over.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. D’Amano,” she said, her voice trembling with rage, “but your company is praised for helping authors bring their dreams to life.
That’s why I trusted you with mine. I didn’t expect something so humiliating and unprofessional. Is this what your loyalty means—”
“Be very careful with your words, Roseline,” Raul warned, his voice low and dangerous. “I can walk away from this project right now and make sure no one touches it.”
The room fell deathly silent. His threat wasn’t empty—his power was real. Even Roseline gulped, visibly shaken.
Raul turned back to Catalina, his hand snapping around her wrist as he yanked her out of the room, his face a storm of rage.
“I hope he doesn’t kill her,” Danielle whispered beside me.
I blinked. “Wait—what?”
Hunter chuckled. “No, Angel. Mr. D’Amano’s reputation is just… something no one can mess with. Let’s just say if Catalina wasn’t his wife, she might be six feet under.”
I gave a nervous laugh, still trying to process it all.
Then I looked at Roseline, who seemed on the verge of tears. I couldn’t let this fall apart. Not for her.
“Roseline,” I called gently. She turned toward me, masking her pain.
“If you want, I can step down. She—”
“Nonsense,” she interrupted firmly. “You will play the role. Mr. D’Amano will be your partner. This is my story, and I’ll see it brought to life the way it deserves.”
Her voice didn’t shake—not this time. And as the crew went back to preparing the scene, I realized one thing:
I wasn’t just about to act alongside Raul D’Amano. I was about to dance with fire.