Chapter 6

Julian Fletcher burst into the parlor, his phone clutched in a white-knuckled grip. His face was ashen, his tie loosened, his hair sticking up in every direction.

He thrust the phone toward Cecil, who was standing calmly by the fireplace. "He's refusing! Jax is absolutely furious!" He muttered under his breath, "Mr. Sterling is already deploying the legal team to handle the assault fallout, and now I have to deal with this."

The phone crackled with the sound of a man's angry voice. Jax Vaughn, the show's director, was screaming. "This isn't a game, Marshall! You can't just swap out cast members the day before shooting! The contracts are signed! The insurance is set! I don't care who she is, the answer is no!"

Julian looked at Cecil, his eyes pleading. "He's threatening to sue. He says he'll blacklist Aedan from every network."

Cecil held out her hand. Julian hesitated for a second, then placed the phone in her palm. She tapped the screen, putting it on speaker.

"Mr. Vaughn," Cecil said, her voice calm and steady, cutting through the director's rant like a knife.

Jax paused, caught off guard by the unfamiliar voice. "Who is this? Look, lady, I don't have time for games. The show isn't a playground for Aedan's latest squeeze."

"I am not requesting, Mr. Vaughn," Cecil said, her tone leaving no room for argument. "I am informing you."

Jax laughed, a harsh, bitter sound. "Lady, I don't care who you think you are. We don't need amateurs. We need drama, not some stiff who's never been on camera."

Cecil turned her gaze to Julian, her golden eyes locking onto his. The command was silent but absolute. "Julian. The family has emergency reserves. Offer this man a sum he cannot refuse. Ensure my participation."

Julian swallowed hard, his face paling even further. The emergency reserves? That was the untouchable fund, the bedrock of the Marshall fortune. He nodded numbly, taking the phone back. His hands were shaking so badly he almost dropped it.

"Jax," Julian said, his voice strained. "Listen to me. The Marshall family is prepared to become the primary sponsor for this season. And the next." He took a deep breath and recited a string of numbers-an offshore account routing number and an amount with so many zeros it made him dizzy. "That's the initial investment. Consider it... a signing bonus."

The room went quiet. Even Jax's breathing seemed to stop on the other end of the line.

Julian, emboldened by the silence, pressed on, channeling the cold certainty he'd seen in Cecil's eyes. "And then there's the matter of publicity," he continued, his PR instincts kicking in. "You've seen the video, I assume? The one that's trending worldwide?"

Jax didn't say anything, but Julian could hear the click of a keyboard. He was checking the stats.

"Imagine," Julian said, his voice gaining confidence, "what the ratings will be like when the 'mystery woman' is a cast member. The audience is obsessed. They want to know who she is. They want to see what happens next. She'll double your viewership, Jax. All you have to do is say yes."

Silence stretched over the speaker. The sound of Jax's breathing was heavy.

"Fine," Jax said, his voice tight. "But she signs a liability waiver. If she gets hurt, if she sues, it's on her. And she follows my rules."

"Agreed," Julian said, ending the call before the director could change his mind. He slumped onto the sofa, the phone slipping from his sweaty hand. He stared at Cecil, his mouth hanging open. "You... you just strong-armed your way onto a reality show."

Aedan was pacing in the corner of the room, his fingernails bitten down to the quick. He was muttering to himself, his eyes darting around the room. "This is insane. This is completely insane. I'm not doing it. I'll quit. I'll breach the contract. I'll pay the fine."

Cecil turned to look at him. She didn't say a word. She just stared.

A sudden, sharp pressure clamped down on Aedan's chest. It was a fraction of the force she had used in the gallery, but it was enough. His lungs seized. His knees buckled, and he fell back into the armchair behind him.

"You will be in the car at eight o'clock tomorrow morning," Cecil said, her voice cold. "If you are late by even a second, I will show you a pain that makes your current misery feel like a gentle embrace."

Aedan glared at her, his jaw clenched, his chest tight. He wanted to scream. He wanted to fight. But the memory of the lightning, the golden eyes, was too fresh. He nodded, a single, jerky movement.

Cecil turned and walked toward the door. She paused on the threshold, not bothering to look back.

"Prepare some practical clothing for me," she said to Julian, who was still staring blankly at the phone. "I will not be wearing these cumbersome gowns." Julian nodded weakly, his mind already racing. He'd have to call the family's emergency couturier, the one who could work miracles overnight.

She left the room, the door clicking shut behind her.

Aedan sat in the chair, his head in his hands. He was trapped. He was completely and utterly trapped.