Page 77 of Billionaire's Second Chance

“Thisisthefinalscene, darling. You have to look your best.”

Joy, the make-up artist, rubbed his hands together and snapped his finger. His team stood around me, hands behind their backs. I looked past them. Derek waited calmly beside one of the assistant directors. The final scene needed both of us to deliver simple lines and ooze chemistry.

Damon. His hands were tucked into the front pockets of his jeans. My core clenched. I placed my hand over my belly for a moment and quickly retrieved it before anyone saw me.

“Do you know my favorite part of working on this movie?” The make-up artist asked.

“No.” My eyes didn’t leave Damon’s frame.

“Your gorgeous face. This is the kind of canvas I like,” Joy exclaimed.

“Oh, thank you!” I smiled. “What will I do without you?”

Damon turned in my direction. I flashed a smile. Then Joy's brushes hovered over my face, so I closed my eyes.

“Ready to roll?”

My eyelids flickered open. Damon stood before me with a sheet of paper in his hand.

He caressed my hand. “It’s okay to be tense, but I’m sure you'll rock it.”

“I won’t let you down, Damon,” I promised.

“If you need some inspiration,” he said, then leaned closer to my ears, his lips curled mischievously. “Picture me instead.”

His voice zapped through my body, raising my temperature by several degrees. I shut my eyes. His cologne grew distant. When I opened them, he had walked away.

“You did it, Ava,” Greg approached me. “You fucking did it.”

“No. We did it, Greg,” I said, tearing up and dabbing my eyes gently so as not to ruin my flawless makeup. “Thank you for supporting me each step of the way.”

“There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you two.” Derek stood at the door, interrupting our celebratory moment. He held a script in his hand.

“Hey, Derek,” I greeted him, then got up and walked with him to the set.

Sandy called the shot with a patchy voice. All this yelling at us for weeks had taken a toll on his vocal cords.

I let Rose enter my body for the last time. I moved with her grace, spoke with her voice, shed her tears, and kissed Derek with her lips, not mine. And when it was all over, I let her go. She vanished into the abyss, where all fictitious characters go to die.

I wouldn't miss her. For the first time in my life, I was excited to be myself. I couldn't wait to share the secret in my belly with the rest of the world. And conquer it with Damon, who flashed his one-sided grin, hands tucked in his pocket, shoulders held high.

“And cut,” Sandy cried out. “It’s a wrap!"

The roar that followed was overwhelming. Derek swept me off my feet. He spun me a few times before putting me down.

The make-up artist high-fived a few people around and clapped. I remained where I was, transfixed in awe. This was it—my first actual movie shoot, my first hit role.

“Ava,” Sandy beamed at me. “You’re a rare talent. It was an honor to work with you.”

“Thank you, Sandy,” my voice cracked. His words meant the world to me, coming from Hollywood's toughest director.

“Listen up, everyone.” Damon’s voice rose louder than everyone else’s. We both turned to find him with a microphone. “We did it, people. You guys have been amazing. I couldn’t do this without you all.”

“You rock, Damon,” Joy, the makeup artist, yelled out, interrupting his speech.

“Um, thanks—” Damon looked around, timid and confused, then turned back to us. “To show my gratitude, I've arranged a little celebration. Stay as long as you can stand on your feet. Drinks on me till dawn. Let’s party, people!”

With that, a DJ and about ten others walked in and, like a well-oiled machine, started arranging tables, chairs, and decorations. Before we knew it, the set was transformed into a club, the music drowning the ecstatic chatter, our bodies swaying to the rhythm, large smiles spreading over our faces.

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