Stella’s POV
I froze as a familiar scent wafted toward me. I would recognize that cologne anywhere.
"Adam?" I could barely make out his tall silhouette in the darkness, but I was certain it was him. My heart was still racing from the adrenaline.
He let out a low chuckle that sent an involuntary shiver down my spine.
"You scared me to death!" I smacked his shoulder, genuinely annoyed. "How did you even get in here? Aren't you worried someone might see you?"
Instead of answering, he wrapped his arms around my waist and pulled me against him. Before I could protest, his lips were on mine, effectively silencing any further questions I had.
The hairpin clattered to the floor as I instinctively grabbed his shoulders—first to push him away, then, embarrassingly quickly, to pull him closer. The kiss deepened, and I momentarily forgot we were standing in my workplace with only a flimsy door separating us from the entire production crew.
When he finally released me, I was struggling to catch my breath, my mind foggy with a mix of desire and confusion.
"That guy who got beaten up—was that your doing?" I managed to ask once my brain started functioning again.
"Who?" Adam leaned down to press another quick kiss on my lower lip.
Typical. He couldn't even be bothered to remember the man's name. "The supporting actor in our production. The one who got his ass handed to him last night."
"Yes," he admitted without a hint of remorse. "Any objections?"
"None whatsoever." I couldn't help the satisfaction I felt knowing Adam had dealt with someone who'd been so awful to me. It was wrong, probably, to feel this way—but I did.
The pitch-black makeup room suddenly felt incredibly intimate, like we were cocooned away from the rest of the world. His hands stayed firm on my waist, his presence filling the small space entirely.
"I'm heading to Toronto soon," he said abruptly.
My stomach dropped slightly. "So urgently? Is there a problem at GT Group?" I frowned, thinking about logistics. "I don't think there are direct flights from here."
"Private jet," he replied simply.
"Oh." Of course. I hesitated before asking, "Will you make it back for Mrs. Morgan's birthday on Saturday?"
Saturday was Luke and James's mother's fiftieth birthday. We'd received the invitations weeks ago, and I was actually looking forward to it.
Adam nodded. "I'll be back."
"Good." I tried to push away the disappointment I felt. Why was I disappointed anyway? It was just a business trip. "Will you bring me a gift? As Mrs. Lancaster, am I entitled to request a souvenir from Mr. Lancaster's business trip?"
I saw the corner of his mouth quirk up slightly. "What would you like? A handbag? Diamonds?"
"There's a private shop in Toronto that makes custom Indian masks. Maybe you could make one for me?" I noticed his almost imperceptible frown and quickly backtracked. "If you're too busy, just bring me a box of maple tea from Toronto. That would be fine too."
He seemed satisfied with my more reasonable request, his thumb gently stroking my wrist. The tenderness of the gesture was so unlike his usual cool demeanor that it made my heart skip.
Protected by the darkness, I suddenly felt brave—or stupid, possibly both.
"Adam," I tilted my head, looking up at what I could see of his face, "have you... fallen in love with me?"
*Oh my god, did I actually just say that out loud?*
*Knock! Knock! Knock!*
The sudden pounding at the door shattered whatever madness had possessed me to ask such a direct question.
"What did you just say?" Adam leaned closer, clearly having missed my words thanks to the interruption.
"Nothing," I said quickly, simultaneously mortified and relieved. *Thank god for whoever's at the door.*
"Sir, it's time to go," Taylor's voice came from the hallway.
Adam cupped my face one last time, placing a gentle kiss on my lips. "I have to leave."
And then he was gone, slipping out of the room as silently as he'd arrived. The moment the door closed behind him, the lights flickered back on, flooding the room with harsh fluorescent brightness that seemed to mock my momentary courage.
*What was I thinking?* I touched my lips, still feeling the pressure of his kiss. *Thank goodness he didn't hear me clearly. That would have been beyond embarrassing.*
"Miss Winston, are you alright?" A crew member called through the door. "We just had a power outage on this floor, but the wiring's fixed now."
"I'm fine," I called back, quickly smoothing down my clothes and hair.
As the footsteps faded away, something clicked in my brain. The timing of the power outage was way too convenient. Had Adam actually cut the power to avoid security cameras? The thought of him going to such lengths just to see me privately made something warm flutter in my chest.
\---
"Surprise!" Sam's voice cut through the busy set on Friday afternoon. I looked up from the costume rack to see her waving enthusiastically.
"Sam!" I couldn't help smiling at the sight of my best friend. "What are you doing here?"
"Can't a girl visit her bestie on set?" She linked her arm with mine, pulling me away from the busy filming area. Once we found a quiet corner, her expression turned more serious. "Plus, I have news about that silver lock you asked me to look into."
My smile faltered. "What did you find out?"
"The lock was custom-made for a baby girl over twenty years ago," Sam explained, lowering her voice. "It symbolizes safety, happiness, and longevity. Unfortunately, the family emigrated shortly afterward, and the trail goes cold there."
"They emigrated..." I sighed, feeling the familiar weight of disappointment. "So that's the end of that lead."
Sam squeezed my arm supportively. "At least you know your birth parents cared for you. They had this specially made with love and good intentions."
"I've been searching for years with no results. Even with this clue, the trail has gone cold." I forced a small smile. "I think fate has decided I'm not meant to know my blood relations. Let's just... stop looking."
Sam was about to respond when a familiar voice interrupted us.