I stared at Russell in disbelief. “You’re setting me up again! In a few days, you’ll definitely question me—why can the Oscar-winning actress be so disciplined, but I can’t resist temptation?”
I put down my egg pancake and cautiously walked over to him. “Are you serious or just messing with me?”
Russell replied, “I can’t exactly mistreat you in front of Sherman, an outsider, now, can I?”
Of course. The cunning old fox always has to keep up his gentlemanly image in front of others. So he does know he's mistreating me, huh?
I turned to leave, but suddenly, Russell wrapped his arms around me from behind. “Too skinny. Doesn’t feel good to hold.”
Mrs. Dunst, seeing this, awkwardly turned away. “Um… sir, ma’am, the romance film is ready. Would you like to watch it now in the basement theater?”
Russell answered casually, “Sure.”
Then he leaned in and whispered into my ear, his breath warm against my skin. “Time to level up your acting skills.”
I pulled his hands away uncomfortably. “Do I get a bonus for a good performance?”
Russell gave me a knowing look. “I remember she once played a Republican-era spy, seducing enemies in a dimly lit theater.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re not expecting me to seduce you, are you?”
“Hmm. Try it. If you succeed, there’s a reward.”
He must have watched that actress’s films over and over to be able to quote her lines even before she said them.
In the dark glow of the projector, I sneaked a glance at his expression. For the past two years, he had always looked at her this way—with deep admiration.
Whether in films or trending topics on his phone, as long as it was about her, his eyes never strayed.
“How long do I have to wait for you to start?”
His tone was laced with impatience. “I told you, act like her. The film has a 20-minute stretch without her—use that time to give me your performance.”
I had my pride. “Can I not? I’m not feeling well today.”
Since breakfast, my lower belly has been aching faintly. It must be… that time of the month.
“Not feeling well? Where?” His voice was cold, completely devoid of concern.
“I… um… my period.”
Russell let out a mocking laugh. “In the dead of winter, when it was minus five degrees, she still managed to film underwater scenes during her period. And you? I ask you to act a simple indoor scene, and you refuse because of cramps? Merylle, you’re making money way too easily. You’re not even worth a fraction of her.”
With that, he yanked me up angrily and grabbed my throat, roaring, “Act! Right now! And don’t stop until I’m satisfied!”
The grip on my throat tightened. Panic and suffocation consumed my mind. For a moment, I had no idea how to act.
He loosened his grip slightly and shouted, “Speak!”
My icy fingers gripped his wrist tightly. Then, forcing down the nausea rising in me, I delivered my line—seductive, just like she would.
“Sir, are you always this ruthless to women?”
I was mimicking her dialogue, adding a teasing lilt to my tone.
“Yeah. So what?”
“If you’re going to get rough, I’d rather it be in the bedroom.”
“Oh?” Russell released me. I staggered back, coughing violently.
His turn to get into character.
“Or,” I smirked, yanking at his collar, “we could do it right here.”
“What do you want? I’ll follow your lead.” Russell smiled, spreading his arms as if waiting for my embrace.
I leaned in, close enough that our lips almost touched, but I didn’t kiss him. Instead, I murmured in the most sultry tone I could muster.
“I want to be yours.”
