During the photoshoot, Luna Hughes’s glam team worked in perfect synergy, tailoring her makeup to match the aesthetic of the couture. Nearby, the photography crew fine-tuned the lighting, keeping the entire set running with clockwork precision.

The shoot went remarkably smooth. Luna was a natural, instinctively shifting into poses that complemented the garments. The photographer couldn't help but give her a thumbs-up.

"Luna, you were born for the stage."

Luna peeked at the preview monitor, a satisfied smile blooming on her face. "And your eye for detail is brilliant!"

There is nothing quite like a seamless collaboration to lift one's spirits after a long day. As the session finally wrapped, Evangeline Montgomery handed her a bottle of water. "Luna, join us for dinner tonight?"

Luna took a sip, her expression softening. "I’d love to. And please, enough with the 'Ms. Hughes.' Just call me Luna."

"Deal. Then you should call me Evangeline."

They exchanged a knowing smile.

As their group arrived at L’Avenue and stepped out of the car, Remi Crawford shivered, pulling her coat tight. "Whew, it feels like we’ve been working for months without seeing the sun. Winter really crept up on us."

"It has," Evangeline agreed, draping an arm around her friend to shield her from the biting wind. "Hard to believe New Year’s is right around the corner."

The last few months had passed in such a frantic blur that time itself felt distorted. Luna watched their easy intimacy with a touch of envy. Having been thrust into the entertainment industry at such a young age, she had learned early on that the industry was a cesspool of deception. Offering a genuine heart was often just handing someone a blade to stab you with. That history had forged her reputation as someone cold, distant, and untouchable.

Inside the private dining room, the mood shifted. Laughter echoed as glasses clinked in celebration.

"To a perfect wrap! Cheers!"

"Cheers!"

Halfway through dinner, a tipsy Evangeline leaned over to Luna, pulling out her phone. "Luna, let’s take a selfie. I need to leach off your popularity on Twitter/X tomorrow."

Luna laughed, her cheeks flushed with wine. "Who’s leaching off whom? You were trending for four days straight last week!"

They pressed their heads together, the camera shutter clicking to immortalize the moment. With Remi acting as the life of the party, the atmosphere remained light and boisterous. Before long, everyone had indulged in a bit too much.

Luna’s manager whispered, "Luna, slow down on the drinks."

Luna blinked, her eyes hazy with a playful, drunken defiance. "It’s fine, we’re all just girls here."

A sharp, warning look from her manager finally made her realize the man at the end of the table had been silent the entire time.

"Oh... right. I forgot Noah Mitchell was here. My apologies."

Noah Mitchell merely lifted his eyelids to glance at her, his face a mask of professional indifference, before taking a slow, measured sip from his glass.

"Evangeline," Luna murmured, resting her heavy head in her palm, "you and Remi are such bright, open spirits. How on earth did you end up friends with someone as stoic as Noah?"

"Luna, you’re drunk," her manager hissed, nudging her arm.

Evangeline offered the manager a reassuring look before turning back to Luna. "We share the same vision and absolute trust. Becoming friends was just the natural evolution of that."

Noah stared at Evangeline, his gaze lingering with uncharacteristic intensity.

"That’s so nice," Luna sighed, a note of genuine longing in her voice.

"That’s it, we’re leaving!" Her manager stood up, ushering her away. "Noah, Evangeline, Remi—terribly sorry. She’s had too much to drink, I need to get her home."

"Of course. Drive safely," Evangeline replied.

Back in the back of the Sprinter van, the manager turned cold. "Luna, there are no saints in business. That Noah Mitchell is a shark. What made you think you could just be 'friends' with people like them?"

Luna leaned against the headrest, her eyes closing. A moment later, they snapped open, the drunken haze vanishing instantly, replaced by sharp, cold clarity. "I know. Let's go."

The manager scoffed, shaking her head. "You better hope you do."

***

"Let’s head back, too," Evangeline said, swaying slightly as she stood up.

She stumbled, but a large, firm hand caught her arm before she could fall.

"Thanks, Noah."

Noah withdrew his hand the moment she regained her balance. "Are you two heading back to the office?"

To save time during this crunch period, they had each set up a private resting suite at the company headquarters.

Evangeline checked her watch—it was only 10:00 PM. "Yes, we’re heading back. We can get some rest tonight."

"Mhm!" Remi agreed, nodding vigorously.

"Right. Let’s go." Noah trailed behind them, keeping a watchful eye to ensure they didn't trip.

When Evangeline reached their floor and pushed the door open, she walked straight into a wall of muscle. She gasped, clutching her nose in pain.

"Evangeline, are you alright?"

"Marcellus? Did you install a GPS tracker on me or something?"

As soon as the words left her lips, she realized—wait, didn't Waylen Shaw basically act like a high-tech, sentient GPS?

"Hah!" Noah let out a dry, sardonic laugh behind her.

Marcellus shot him a look so lethal it could have carved through steel. He was getting real tired of seeing that man everywhere. He was becoming an eyesore.

Noticing the tension, Remi caught sight of Damian Spencer standing behind Marcellus. She grabbed Evangeline and Noah, pulling them forward quickly. "We’re going! Let’s go!"

Damian called out to the woman scurrying away, his voice low. "Remi!"

Remi pretended she didn't hear him, picking up her pace. "I need sleep! I just need to sleep!"

Damian looked at Marcellus with a crestfallen expression. "Are we... are we officially unwanted?"

Marcellus lowered his gaze, his hand, which had been reaching out for Evangeline, dropping slowly to his side.

Evangeline looked back and saw that posture—the utter loneliness in his frame. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand. She broke free from the others and lunged at him, burying her face in his chest.

"Marcellus, let’s go home!"

Marcellus remained frozen, still wearing that wounded, stoic expression.

"Marcellus?" Evangeline nudged him, batting her eyelashes in a classic move of affection.

Remi, watching the scene, clicked her tongue. What a mess. She turned to Noah, looking apologetic. "I’m so sorry, Noah, you should probably just head out on your own."

Noah gave a small, resigned smile and turned to leave.

"Remi, are you sick of me?" Damian asked, his eyes rimmed with a faint, petulant red.

The image of this powerhouse man playing the part of a jilted lover was almost too much to handle. Remi leaned into his chest, stroking his back. "Don't be ridiculous! I’m just exhausted, that’s all."

"Is that all I am to you? A beast you only tolerate when it's convenient?"

"Oh, stop it. You’re not a beast. Come on, let’s go home. You can massage my shoulders, okay?" Remi pulled her best 'begging for mercy' face.

Damian clearly folded under the pressure. He grumbled, but his posture softened as he led her away. Before they disappeared, Remi caught Evangeline’s eye and gave her a wink, signaling for her to keep going.

"Marcellus? Let’s go home, yeah?"

Marcellus had already been deep in the throes of self-reflection. He knew she had been working herself to the bone, and he knew he shouldn't have been so petty, but his longing for her had overridden his logic.

"I’m sorry, Evangeline. I just... I missed you so much."

His vulnerability hit her like a physical weight. Her heart melted into a puddle. How could this man be so incredibly sweet? She felt a pang of guilt, rubbing her cheek against his chest.

"It’s my fault. I’ve been neglecting you. Let’s go home, okay?"

"Okay."

On the drive back, Marcellus watched the woman sleeping in his arms, laughing at himself under his breath. Love really did have a way of making a person lose their mind—and yet, somehow, he found he was perfectly happy to be lost.