Boss lady
860 Words
Chapter 9POV: Celeste SebastianThe crew bounced back from the three-day break full of energy, ready to dive into filming. The atmosphere was light, spirits high—everyone seemed eager to get back to work.I clutched the script, running through the next scene with Elena, the female lead. “Okay, so you walk in, and Dylan’s already there, wrapped in a towel. Don’t look starstruck—just appreciative. Then…”Before I could finish, Kezia practically squealed, “Whoa, oh my god!”Elena and I snapped our heads toward the sound. Kezia’s eyes sparkled as she pointed.There he was—DylanBush, the male lead, shirtless and only wearing a towel, standing not far away like a statue carved for admiration.Kezia’s voice went higher, “Have you seen that body? He’s incredible!”I dropped my hand to my forehead, a flush creeping up my neck. Kezia wasn’t just obsessed with money; she was a full-blown fan girl.“Kezia,” I said, exasperated. “Can you dial down the excitement just a bit?”She hopped over and looped an arm through mine. “I’m not immature! I’m just thrilled to see Dylanin the flesh. Those abs? Those chest muscles? Unreal!”Elena chuckled, eyeing me with a teasing grin. “Ms. Lawrence, you make it sound like you’ve had plenty of experience with… well, impressive physiques.”I gave her a dry smile. “Maybe more than I should admit.” Though I couldn’t recall the face of that one man anymore, the memory of his perfectly sculpted torso—the curve of those abs—was seared in my mind.Suddenly, the director hustled over, sweat beading his forehead. “Ms. Lawrence, Mr. Henry just got a call from the big boss. He says there are issues with your script. Wants you to come see him immediately.”I frowned. “The big boss read my script?”The director shrugged. “The producer sent it three days ago, but who knows if the big boss actually looked at it.”That didn’t sit right. Enzo Cole, the country’s richest and sharpest businessman, was backing this film with a hefty investment. Why would he be so hands-off?Shrugging off the thought, I told Mr. Henry, “It’s fine. I’ll check it out after shooting today. Let’s focus on the scene.”He shook his head. “No can do. They won’t let us film until the script issues are cleared. The whole crew is on hold.”My stomach dropped. Elena and Dylanhad tight schedules. A delay now could derail everything.I sighed and gathered my pages. “Alright. I’ll head there now.”Mr. Henry handed me a card: Enzo Cole’s name, number, and company address.The name sounded familiar, but I didn’t dwell on it. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I got in my car and drove toward the listed address.The Hexagon Group headquarters loomed—a sleek 88-story tower piercing the Silverton skyline. From a small branch, it had ballooned into a commanding presence downtown. The scale of Enzo’s investment was clear: three hundred million dollars wasn’t pocket change.I shielded my eyes against the sun and walked inside.At the front desk, the receptionist gave me a once-over, skepticism etched on her face. To her, I was just a kid in jeans and sneakers, barely looking the part of a screenwriter.“Mr. Cole doesn’t see just anyone,” she said, voice dripping with condescension. “Do you have an appointment?”I pulled my work badge around my neck into view. “I’m C. S. Lawrence, screenwriter for The Twenty-Fifth Hour. Mr. Cole asked me to come talk about script issues.”Her eyes narrowed, then burst out laughing. “Oh, please. Who do you think you are, pretending to be C. S. Lawrence? A kid like you? That’s rich.”I said nothing, meeting her gaze steadily.She doubled over with amusement. “Trying to pull a fast one, huh? Acting like a top romance writer. I’m not blind.”Her arrogance was almost comical.I smiled faintly. “Call him. Confirm for yourself.”She scoffed. “I see women like you all the time. Pretending to be CEOs, heiresses, whatever gets you close to Mr. Cole.”At that moment, a woman approached—Zara Felix, unmistakable in her polished elegance.The receptionist straightened. “Ms. Felix, there’s a fraud here claiming to be C. S. Lawrence.”I turned to Zara, recognition lighting my eyes. “Zara. You remember me, right?”Zara’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “How could I forget?”Once the campus queen, she’d lost her throne the moment I arrived at Silverton University. My pure image, top grades, and sudden rise had eclipsed her shine—and she never forgave me.The receptionist whispered with a smirk, “She claims to be the romance novelist.”Zara pulled out her phone, snapping a picture of me. I stiffened but said nothing.She tapped her screen mockingly. “Let’s see how many people buy your little act on f*******:, ‘C. S. Lawrence.’ Trying to be famous? I’m doing you a favor.”
- Writer
