Victoria’s POV
I let out a long sigh as the makeup artist finally stepped back, adming her handiwork. Six straight hours of filming under those blazing hot lights had my skin practically begging for mercy. My shoulders ached, and the designer dress I’d been corseted into for the last scene had left angry red marks across my ribcage.
“That’s a wrap for Ms. Taylor!” Thomas called from across the set, already reviewing footage on his monitor.
“Thank God,” I muttered, immediately reaching for the makeup wipes The heavy foundation felt like a mask, and I couldn’t wait to peel it all off.
Sophie bustled into my dressing room, phone in one hand and my schedule in the other. “Great work today, Victoria. The crew’s saying that last scene is definitely making the final cut.”
I smiled despite my exhaustion. “Good. After thirteen takes, it damn well better.”
I was halfway through removing my makeup when Sophie’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen, frowning slightly before answering.
“Hello, this is Victoria Taylor’s assistant speaking. May I ask who’s calling?” Sophie stepped a few feet away, her voice professional. “I’m sorry, who is this? And what’s this regarding?”
Her expression darkened suddenly, her eyes darting to me with alarm. I put down my makeup wipe, immediately sensing trouble.
“Who is it?” I mouthed.
Sophie covered the receiver and whispered silently, “Elle Sinclair.”
Great. Just what I needed after a grueling day of filming–a call from Brandon’s psychotic cousin who thought she owned him. I could hear the shrill voice through the phone even from across the room.
“Let me speak to that whore right now!” Elle’s voice screamed.
I held out my hand. “Give me the phone.”
Sophie passed it over with a look of relief. I took a deep breath, plastering a cold smile on my face even though she couldn’t see me.
“Well, well, if it isn’t Miss Sinclair,” I drawled, leaning back in my chair. “To what do I owe this pleasure? Got nothing better to do than call me? Brandon too busy to entertain you today? Oh wait, I get it–he probably won’t even take your calls anymore, right?”
“You fucking bitch,” Elle seethed through the phone. “Don’t get too comfortable. You’re nothing but a cheap slut who spreads her legs for any man with power. You actually think Brandon has real feelings for you? Get a grip! I’m warning you–stay away from him, or I’ll make you regret it!”
I laughed coldly, examining my manicure. “Ad exactly how do you plan to make me ‘regret it,‘ Miss Sinclair? I find it fascinating how you lose your mind every time Brandon so much as glances at another woman. That’s not a healthy habit, you know. And just for the record, there’s nothing between Brandon and me–but even if there was, it wouldn’t be any of your damn business. Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t you supposed to be his cousin? A cousin with a crush on her cousin… now that would make quite the headline, don’t you think?”
“You wouldn’t dare!” she shrieked.
‘Oh honey, try me,” I shot back. “A word of advice–the Taylor family might not be as old money as the Sinclairs, but we’re on our
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home turf here in New York. Your Washington DC connections don’t mean shit in this town.”
I ended the call with a smirk, fussing the phone back to Sophie. “What a psycho.”
Sophie caught the phone, her eyes wide. “She’s completely lost it! I mean, even if she thought something was going on between you and Brandon, who calls someone up and declares war like that? Is she actually insane?”
“Probably,” I said, reaching for the makeup remover again. “Can you pass me that? I’m not done yet.”
Sophie handed me the bottle. “There’s still a dinner meeting with Thomas tonight about Midnight Echo. Should I cancel? You’ve had a long day already.”
“Absolutely not,” I replied firmly. “This film is a huge opportunity. I’m not missing that meeting.”
“You were right about one thing, though,” I added, catching Sophie’s eye in the mirror.
“What’s that?”
V
“Elle Sinclair is certifiably crazy,” I laughed, shaking my head. “Come on, help me finish getting this stuff off. I need to head home and change before dinner.”
The backstage area of the press conference buzzed with frantic energy. Assistants darted in every direction, makeup artists made last–minute touch–ups, and PR people huddled in corners, frantically whispering strategy. The announcement of Midnight Echo was the industry’s most anticipated event of the season, and for good reason.
Not only was the film stacked with A–list talents but the bombshell news that Brandon Stark himself might make an appearance had sent the media into an absolute frenzy.
In New York’s elite circles, Brandon Stark was practically mythology everyone knew his name, his power, his influence, but very few people had actually seen him in person. The man made maybe three public appearances a year, tops.
I sat perfectly still as two stylists fussed over my hair, trying to calm the butterflies in my stomach. I wasn’t nervous about the press -I’d handled tougher crowds than entertainment reporters. No, what had my heart racing was the possibility of seeing Brandon.
“Victoria!” Sophie appeared, carrying a garment bag. “Your dress is here. You need to change now–they’re starting in twenty
minutes.”
“Has Brandon arrived yet?” I asked, trying to sound casual.
Sophie shook her head. “Not yet, but you know how he is. The man’s running half of Wall Street–he’ll probably show up tight at the last minute. Can’t expect someone like Brandon Stark to sit around waiting backstage.” She gave me a once–over, her expression softening. “You look absolutely stunning today. I guarantee all eyes will be on you.”
“You think so?” I asked, unable to hide the hope in my voice.
“Definitely,” Sophie confirmed.
I was about to thank her when a production assistant burst into the room, looking frazzled.
“Is everyone ready? We’re starting in five!”
Sophie jumped into action. “Almost! Just finishing up!” She grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the changing area. “Quick, get into the dress. The leads go out first, then you’re up.”
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As I slipped behind the screeif, I caught my reflection in the mirror. Despite Sophie’s compliments, there was no denying the truth- my role as the supporting actress meant exactly that. Supporting. No leading. Not starring. Second fiddle to Bianca.
Sophie must have noticed my epression falter. “Victoria,” she said gently, you’re still young. You have plenty of time. This isn’t just any supporting role–it’s a scene stealer. Trust me, after this film, your career is going to soar.”
I straightened my shoulders, pushing aside the momentary doubt. You’re right. Hand me the dress–Ive got a press conference to
rock.”
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