Zoey Mitchell glared at Amelia Johnson like she wanted to burn a hole through her. Her knuckles cracked as her fist clenched tight, itching to slap that flawless little face of hers.
Amelia saw right through it and didn’t even flinch—she casually leaned in, smirking.
"Plenty of reporters here tonight," she said in an amused tone. "If someone caught, say, a certain rising star slapping someone in public, wouldn’t that make headlines?"
Zoey’s eyes widened for a second, and just like that, her fist went limp.
"Don’t get cocky—your luck won’t last!"
With a huff, Zoey stormed away, but a few minutes later she came sauntering back, this time with the director, putting on her sweetest voice. "Tonight’s our wrap party, right? If there are randoms here, it kinda kills the vibe for
