Eloise Smyth Actress Novels & Stories

“Scan me, add me on WeChat. If I can’t make it back for dinner, I’ll send a message.” Cosmo just looked at her, seemingly unwilling to add her. So, Eloise raised her phone and said, “Don’t worry, Cosmo. If it’s not important, I won’t bother you.” Cosmo seemed forced to do it, so he scanned her and added her. Then he said, “I don’t really care about what you do.” Eloise replied emotionlessly, then gathered her things and left. She went straight to the audition venue to meet Sasha. The role in the audition was for a supporting character in a period drama. She was a woman who ended up in a dance hall due to her difficult life. From being a dancer, she became a manager for the workers there.

The lady called Eloise had calmed down a bit and drew a chair to sit close to me. "Are you alright Olivia? You've just been staring at me like some stranger since I came in. I know I'm a drama doll, but you're used to me already, right?" She asked with concern in her voice. Eloise is a young beautiful lady about my age. She exudes a pleasant and heart warming aura. I noticed these things about her from the short time she came in until now. "I'm fine." I managed to say so it would not seem akward being silent.

“You’re definitely one of the best around here.” His smile widened. “Thanks,” he said. “It’s refreshing actually hearing other people compliment my acting instead of my looks.” “Your acting has always been the first thing I’ve noticed,” she honestly said. “Your looks are just a bonus, I guess.” Grayson gave her a meaningful smile, although Eloise was focused on Ollie that she couldn’t really see it. “What was your name again?” he asked. Eloise turned her attention back to him. “Eloise,” she smiled. “Eloise Rivers.”

But who approached us was a very, and I mean VERY, old lady dressed in the most mismatched clothes and with electric blue hair which was obviously chemically curled. "Are you Agatha?" Olivia stepped forward, not as shaken as I was by the completely unexpected person. Agatha nodded, a wrinkly smile on her face. "And you are Olivia Smith, from Beauty Smith." Olivia shrugged. "I did not know that I was this famous." She laughed, seeming completely at ease, despite her initial nervousness. Maybe she was unarmed by the fact that it was a woman. I did not know how I felt about that. I did not like how trusting she was. Had she not learned her lesson?

And since she was a woman, Ophelia didn't know if to call her pretty or not. "Greetings, my ladies. I suppose I am deserving of this meeting considering my position in our pack," Elodie's voice was so loud that she didn't need a gong and a trumpet to make this announcement. And Ophelia snorted because she was referring to herself being Finlay's mistress. She was bold and unafraid of anything, which was one of the reasons Finlay found her company interesting. "You have to sign and provide the requirements, I suppose," Lady Smith stuttered, adjusting her glasses after a short pause of silence.

Elora blinked twice. It was Jacob Smith.

The image I keep repeating is not crude, it is precise: the cruel geometry of exposure, the way a single photograph can tilt a life. Eloise will be the actor I need. Eloise has the sort of face that bends light, the kind of laugh that funnels attention and makes men forget to think. She owes me, in the small, complex currency of favors and childhood debts. She will attend, not as a catastrophe, but as an elegant hurricane. I picture her in a dress that is both promise and threat, a color that says, I am not playing small tonight. She will move through the room like a comet, and she will do what she does best: she will listen as much as she dazzles. Jonathan will notice her, because he notice

It was enough to make him hesitate, then comply. But Eloise saw through it all. She knew exactly what this was, nothing more than a trap designed to break her, to force her into submission. The bitterness of that realization settled deep in her chest, and for a fleeting moment, she smiled bitterly. Eloise composed herself quickly, masking her true feelings with the well-rehearsed smile she had perfected over the years. “Have you made up your mind, Sir? What is it that I can do for you?” she asked, her tone flat but polite, the smile on her lips stiff and unnatural.

Rachel West wondered, she is in the basement, it is cold and freezing, only a few degrees below zero, it shouldn't be hot, thinking to herself, she reached out and touched Oliver Smith's forehead. Unexpectedly, Oliver Smith ducked for a moment: "I'm just a little hot, a little thirsty, no fever." After speaking, he drank the warm water in the cup obediently. At this moment, Linda Park called, and no need to answer the call to urge her to go to the set. She didn't have time to spend with Oliver Smith, so she said to him, "I'm going to work, do you want to go home or what?" "I'll be here waiting for you to come back."

I turned to the voice beside me. Vivien Smith. An acquaintance in the business world. Not a stranger, not a friend. Somewhere in between. “Ms. Smith. You’re here too,” I said. Vivien smirked, crossing her legs like she owned the room. “Of course. Savarre’s star employee is making quite the noise lately. My friends have been pestering me to hire her as my designer.” A smile tugged at my lips before I could stop it. Eloise. It was her work that people noticed now. Her name. Her designs.