Chapter 258

Alexander Grant closed the script with a light tap of his fingers on the cover. Patrick Pope immediately hunched forward, hands outstretched to receive it, resembling an ancient eunuch attending to his master.

Director Cyrus was about to call "Action" when a sudden chill ran down his spine. Despite the high temperature in the studio, an icy sensation crept along his back as if a blade had grazed his vertebrae.

Susan Thompson took a deep breath. On the surface, this scene depicted an affair, but in reality, it was just camera angles. She played Consort Young, a woman consumed by love-turned-hatred, determined to cuckold the emperor by seducing his most trusted guard.

"Action!"

Susan instantly slipped into character. Seated on the intricately carved bed, her heavily made-up face radiated venom. Gem-studded nails dug into her palms as her crimson lips parted:

"If your heart belongs only to the dead, why should I remain trapped in this lonely palace? Today, I, Nina Young, will make you the laughingstock of history!"

Alexander was escorted in by two eunuchs, a silver mask concealing half his face.

"Dismissed," Susan commanded with a flick of her wide sleeve.

Once the attendants retreated, she abruptly closed the distance between them. Her lacquered fingernail lifted his chin. "Guard Liam? The emperor's right-hand man?"

Behind the mask, his lips thinned. "Your Highness, maintain your dignity."

"Dignity?" Susan scoffed before shoving him against the wall. The clash of ornate robes against armor rang through the set.

As Alexander struggled, she spun and pinned him onto the bed. Silk covers billowed like waves as she leaned in, her lips hovering a breath away from his—

"Hmph."

Andrew Lucas's mocking laugh sliced through the studio.

Susan's lashes fluttered, but she pressed on, sealing the scripted kiss. The moment their lips met, Alexander's eyes darkened. In one swift motion, he flipped her beneath him.

"Cut!" Director Cyrus suddenly shouted.

Susan scrambled out from under Alexander. "Director, was something wrong?"

"It was perfect!" Cyrus gushed, waving his hands excitedly. "But I have a better idea! Susan, you can dance, right? Use your movements to seduce him, then let him lose control and grab your waist—"

The tips of Susan's ears burned scarlet. Though it was just camera angles, the thought of simulating such intimacy with Alexander in front of the crew made her fingers tingle with heat.

"Like this—" Cyrus grabbed Alexander to demonstrate, "tease him until he can't resist—"

"Hmph."

Andrew's derisive snort cut through again. Only then did Cyrus notice the glowering figure in the corner. "Mr. Lucas, is your throat bothering you?"

The set fell dead silent. Andrew stared at Susan's flushed cheeks, his grip on the water bottle producing ominous creaks.

She used to dance only for him. Her snow-white toes would barely graze the floor, her waist supple as willow branches in spring. Now, she was about to perform like this for another man...

Andrew felt his head turning a shade of green bright enough to host a horse race.