Act Two

Knox sat on the edge of the bed, still shirtless, brushing the backs of his fingers down Vivienne’s arm as she blinked awake.

“You slept like a rock,” he murmured.

Vivienne stretched under the sheets, her hair a warm mess around her face. “How long did I—”

“Long enough,” he said, then pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “But I’ve got to go to work.”

She frowned. “Right now?”

“Unfortunately.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “You have two choices: stay here, order food and anything else you want all day...”

Her brow arched.

“Or,” he added, “you can come with me to set.”

Her eyes lit up instantly.

Knox chuckled. “I’ll take that as a vote for set.”

***

By the time they arrived at the soundstage, Vivienne was practically glowing. Knox had set her up in his private trailer, his dressing room really, but it felt like a luxury suite. A plush sofa. Bottled water chilled to her preference. A blanket wrapped around her legs, and pillows propped up behind her like she was royalty on bed rest.

Reid and Felix stood posted at either side of the door, arms crossed and deadly serious.

Knox leaned over before leaving and pressed a kiss to her hair. “Swaddled and protected. Perfect.”

Vivienne smiled, but after an hour passed, her curiosity got the better of her.

She peeked her head out of the trailer. “Can I... watch?”

Reid’s brows lifted, but Felix shrugged. “Yeah. We’ll take you over.”

***

The soundstage was cooler than expected, dark but buzzing with energy. Crew shuffled silently, camera cranes shifted with fluid precision, and the director’s voice echoed from behind a monitor.

Reid and Felix found her a seat just off camera, out of view, but close enough that she could see everything.

Knox stood under a halo of lighting, dressed in dark slacks and a fitted, unbuttoned black shirt that clung to him like sin. Opposite him was a statuesque woman in a slinky silk robe, golden hair cascading over one shoulder. The tension between them was choreographed to perfection.

Vivienne settled into her seat.

“Let’s go again from the start of the scene,” the director called.

The cameras rolled.

Knox’s voice dropped to a sultry, low register.

“You think I brought you here because I trust you?”

The actress smirked, stepping into his space. “No. You brought me here because you want me.”

He moved toward her slowly. Predatory. Controlled.

The way he tilted his head. The way his hand brushed her hip. It was a performance. But it felt real.

Vivienne gripped the edge of her seat.

She should’ve felt jealous.

Part of her did.

But a much bigger part, one she hadn’t expected, felt thrilled. Like she was watching a fantasy play out in real time. Like this man on stage was hers, and she got to see what the rest of the world only dreamed about.

She watched, wide-eyed, as Knox backed the woman up against a wall.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered in the scene.

“I don’t want you to,” the actress whispered back.

He leaned in—

Their lips nearly touched—

And—

“Cut,” Knox said suddenly, stepping back.

His voice was firm, his expression unreadable.

The actress blinked, pulling away slightly, clearly surprised by the interruption. Around them, the crew paused, glancing to the director for confirmation. The director hesitated, then gave a short nod, signaling the crew to stand down.

Vivienne nearly screamed. She had been so invested.

Her heart was racing. Her thighs clenched beneath the blanket, and her breathing was all wrong.

God help her. She wanted to see more.

Something’s clearly wrong with me, she thought, sinking deeper into the seat.

Maybe she’d been around Weston too long. Maybe watching Knox’s films too often had rewired her.

But she wanted to see it.

So long as it was just acting, just a performance, there was something electric about it. Watching him like that, playing out her fantasies gave her a thrill she couldn't explain. Because she alone would get the real ending. The version of him no one else could touch. The world could watch the illusion. But only she got to keep the man.

Then she heard Knox’s voice again, calm but firm.

“Bring in the stunt double. I’m not doing any more kissing scenes.”

Vivienne’s head snapped up.

The director looked up from his monitor, blinking like he’d misheard.

“What?” someone from the lighting crew muttered.

“You’re kidding,” the actress said under her breath, still flushed from the near-kiss.

The director stepped forward. “Knox, come on. That won’t work. A double’s not going to cut it. You know what the audience wants. Needs. It’s for a female market, man.”

Vivienne’s pulse spiked. He was serious?

She wanted to yell. She loved his romantic scenes. She used to watch them far too often over the last year when they’d been separated. Seeing him touch someone else was torture, but the good kind. The kind that made her ache.

And now he was pulling the plug?

“I’m spoken for,” Knox added casually, fiddling with his mic as he grabbed a bottle of water. “And I’m not about to upset my future wife.”

Vivienne’s mouth fell open.

The set buzzed with confusion. The director looked between the actress, the crew, and Knox, before letting out a tired breath.

He turned to his assistant. “Can she wear a wig and stand on camera? We don’t even need a face shot—we’ll shoot it over the shoulder and use Knox’s close-ups. We can make it all him.”