She's America's sweetheart. He's a world famous musician, translating personal heartbreak to golden lyrics. A serendipitous encounter along the coast of Cannes sparks a passionate and unexpected romance that will leave the world in awe.
"I loved yo...
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Christmas arrived and said its unwanted farewell rather quickly, taking the city by storm as the biggest snowstorm ever dated in history hit the ground. It dipped into the new year as January welcomed us all to a fresh season. And as the ice begins to slightly melt, so does my current patience as I sit across the table from a man I've come to despise with every fiber in my body. He's too confident for my liking with designer glasses that rest on the brim of his nose, rather proud for his accomplishments as he allows the entire cast to read the poorly written script. Nobody really says a word as he dismisses everyone for the day, but he doesn't realize that I'm not finished. I follow him curtly into his office, shutting the door behind me, viewing the annoyed grimace on his face due to my presence.
"Layla, it's late and I'm too tired for another argument, please spare me the details."
"Mr. Mair, you have single handily ruined a film that is so special to me. You rewrote all the scenes that involve any romance in them. I've told you countless amount of times that this isn't a film that I wish to show any graphic nudity or sex. You just won't listen to me even though you seem to forget, that I'm the one in charge."
He raises a brow, shocking the two of us by slamming his notebook and paper onto the desk. He walks towards me rather swiftly, forcing me to take two steps back in return. He's far too close for comfort as his rage and anger is directed for me and me alone. "With all due respect Layla James, I have funded this project tremendously. My name and experience gives me a bit of room to change a few scenes here and there. I've told you that sex sells and I know you're still learning, so why don't you stick to showing your pretty face on camera and leave the real work to me? Hmm?"
When I'm rather silent, he takes the lack of words as a charming and victorious success. He takes a foot back, yet I'm not the type of woman to simply bow down in defeat. "I want you off this project. I don't care if I have to start from scratch. We're done here."
He laughs a boisterous laugh, ridiculing whatever it is I have to say. "You'll lose all the little respect you've gained over this period of time. Believe me, you don't want me as your enemy in this industry." When I attempt to head for the door, he prevents such an act, cornering me between both arms, staring into my unfazed eyes. "Why can't you be like the other girls and show me a bit of gratitude? I'm rather skilled on and off set," he says into my ear, proceeding to slip a hand underneath my waist. When he cups me, I gasp in fright, pushing him off entirely.
Thankfully in that very moment, Ben opens the door, rather confused at the very sight in front of him. He turns to look at me, wearing a concerned face while I struggle to catch my breath. "Is everything okay?"
"Yes, Mr. Mair was just leaving. Isn't that right?"
He doesn't utter an excuse or apology as he trudges with deep anger out the door, shutting it in a hurry behind him. I don't mention such an interaction with anyone on set except Grace, turning to her in times of trouble, knowing that we'll need a rhyme and reason for finding a producer in such a tricky situation. As the afternoon creeps into the night, I take a cab to the desired restaurant that Harry and I decided to share dinner together for the evening. We're normally two for takeout, knowing that dining in the city comes with rather great consequences and focus. A simple meal results in the media following suit, gaining the public eye, and of course heavy speculation and critique. Thankfully, the drive isn't far and there isn't so much traffic at this hour.
