CHAPTER 5

— Hello! Rachel speaking!

— Hey, you asked me to call you, did something happen? — Laura's voice is full of concern.

Rachel forces a worried expression, her mind miles away from that lunch.

— Right now? Yes, exactly. I'm on my way, wait for me at the office! — She forces her voice to sound urgent.

— Huh? What are you talking about? We're still in the middle of lunch. — Laura tries to figure out what's going on.

— Right. Got it! I'm coming. — Rachel ends the call, puts her phone in her bag, and quickly signals the waitress.

— Are you leaving already? — Lohan asks, his voice low and surprised.

Rachel completely ignores the question—not that she didn't hear it, but she has no desire to take out her frustrations on the young man over a fight that isn't even his. She stands up with cold elegance and turns to the waitress.

— My check, please! I'm heading out.

— Right away, ma'am! Follow me, please. — The waitress nods and leads the way.

Before Rachel can make a move, Thomas cuts her off, grabbing her by the wrist.

— I'm not done yet, darling. — He says, his voice threatening, trying to maintain control while sporting a fake smile. — You can't just leave like this. I haven't said everything I came to say.

Rachel stares at his hand gripping her wrist. Her gaze locks onto his with an intensity only she can muster.

— You have one minute. Say what you want or get out of my way. — She speaks in a low, sharp voice, taking a step forward that forces Thomas to recoil a couple of paces.

Lohan watches everything in silence, his fists clenched over his knees, forcing himself to keep control and not meddle in the couple's argument. But something inside him pulses with every hostile gesture Thomas makes toward Rachel.

Thomas finally sits back down, his expression turning darker as the words he was avoiding finally escape his mouth.

— The costumes... — He says with urgency, though his voice remains calm. — I wanted you to work on a special costume for Lohan.

Rachel lets out a sarcastic laugh, her gaze cutting right through him like a sharp blade. She turns toward the cash register and walks briskly over to where the waitress is waiting.

Before Rachel can pay, Lohan catches up to her and, with a hurried motion, swipes his card, paying the bill she had requested.

— What do you think you're doing? — She asks, her patience gone, her voice harsh.

Lohan, wearing an uncomfortable expression, tries to apologize.

— Sorry! — his low, deep voice, almost a whisper, reveals just how bothered Lohan is by the situation. — Not for that. I did that because I wanted to. — He gestures toward the register. — But for before. The whole costume thing, I didn't know.

Rachel looks at him indifferently, even knowing he's telling the truth, lacking the energy to drag out the conversation.

— Whatever, I don't care. — She turns and begins walking toward the exit.

Lohan, his heart pounding and feeling as though something is fracturing between them, cannot contain himself. He intercepts her before she can leave, his commanding presence blocking her path.

— But I care. — He says, his voice firm yet laden with agonizing sincerity. — I don't want you being mad at me because of a misunderstanding.

Rachel hesitates for a moment, looking deep into Lohan's dark eyes, silently pleading for him to let her go for now. He understands and doesn't block her way. She keeps walking, leaving him standing alone in front of the exit.

— Damn it! — he growls, fists clenched at his sides.

On the way back to the office, Rachel drives with her hands tightly gripped on the steering wheel, feeling tension build in her body as chaotic thoughts invade her mind. The memory of Thomas's sarcastic smiles only makes her more furious.

"That jerk. Who does he think he is? Making me waste my precious time like this... I must be such an idiot. How did I fall into that trap? I should have made up some excuse and ignored him, like I've done so many times before... ARGH!" — She squeezes the steering wheel hard, feeling the cushioned texture under her fingers, trying to ease the frustration still consuming her after the unpleasant lunch.

"And to make matters worse, there's that kid..." — Lohan's image pops into her mind, vivid and unmistakable. She remembers him standing right in front of her, and now she clearly notes how different he seemed from the guy she had coffee with earlier. It wasn't just his posture that had changed, but his manners too—now more controlled, more imposing, entirely distant from the cheeky boy who kissed her hand without permission and made her want to slap him that morning.

"He really does have a... disturbingly piercing gaze, and that jawline? As the lead actor, he's going to be a hit. Historical clothes are going to fit that body like a glove, without him even having to try." — Rachel thinks, before realizing she is laughing to herself, nibbling her lower lip.

— What am I doing? — she scolds herself out loud. — Have I lost my mind? Pull yourself together, Rachel! He's nothing more than a pretty and tempting face. Besides, you're married and twice his age.

She sighs, trying to regain control of her thoughts as she settles into the car seat. Wasting no time, she calls Laura, who answers on the first ring.

— Hello! — Laura's voice sounds urgent on the other end.

— Hey, Laura. — Rachel replies, trying to stay calm. — Just wanted to let you know it was nothing, just an excuse to get out of a situation I didn't want to be in right now.

— Oh, I see. I figured it was something like that.

— Exactly. Now, keep going with the day's schedule. I'm going to stop by the office to grab some fabric swatches and then head straight to the set. Let the others know I'll be there in about thirty minutes.

— Okay! — Laura responds, ending the call.

The stop at the office is quick. Rachel goes in, grabs the binder of fabric swatches, drops it into her bag, and heads out toward the film set located downtown, where the final scenes of the series are being shot.

When she arrives at the set right on schedule, she finds her team properly organized. Everything is under control. The actors are dressed and made up, the accessories are in the right places, and the minor details that would pass unnoticed by many have already been sorted out. Rachel's only task is to check that everything matches the script stipulations.

She pulls her clipboard from her bag, meticulously checking off every detail that needs watching, and walks to the center of the filming area. She watches closely how the lights fall on the costumes, how the fabrics move in the wind—all those little things most people miss, but which make all the difference.

As Rachel observes the perfect drape of a costume on one of the characters, the scene through the camera monitor absorbs her completely. The soft light illuminating the fabrics, the delicate movement of the garments in the wind—everything seems in harmony. But suddenly, something breaks her concentration. An unexpected warmth washes over her, as if the air temperature has suddenly spiked.

Lohan steps up behind her, his body nearly brushing hers, and she feels his presence like an enveloping force. He whispers in her ear, his voice soft and unruffled, yet charged with something impossible to ignore:

— Your work looks very interesting.

Rachel feels the vibration of his words rippling across her skin, a shiver starting at the nape of her neck and spreading through her entire body. He positions himself even closer, gazing at the exact same image on the camera monitor, but with his presence practically invading every space around Rachel. Lohan's face is so close she can feel the lightness of his warm breath brushing her skin, her body immersed in his, as if standing right beside her with every movement.

— Are you going to look at me like that when I'm shooting the movie too? — He asks, his playful smile overflowing with confidence, making Rachel almost lose control. She swallows hard, the tension between them mounting with every passing second.

She feels heat rush to her face, a chill running down her spine, and involuntarily takes a small step to the side, trying to regain her composure. But her eyes lock onto Lohan's, intense and piercing. What is this? She asks herself, unable to tear her gaze away.

— What ar-are you... — Rachel tries to speak, but the words get stuck, her hands trembling slightly. Nervousness overtakes her, making every movement even harder to control. She feels vulnerable, and at the same time, completely captivated.

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