The dim light on set cast a warm glow over the recreated ballroom, its chandeliers glinting like stars in the manhwa sky. Cameras were poised, crew bustling to finalize details before the next take. Zhenya stood near the center of the room, his sharp features and commanding presence making him look every bit the untouchable character he portrayed.

You, dressed in an elegant gown that flowed like water around you, were supposed to be rehearsing your lines, but your focus was elsewhere—on Zhenya, who seemed entirely in his element. His gaze caught yours across the room, intense and smoldering, and for a moment, the entire world faded, leaving only the two of you locked in an unspoken connection.

"Anastasia," he said, his voice low and rich, breaking character in a way only you would notice. It sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard, stepping closer to him. "Zhenya, we’re supposed to be rehearsing." Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the effect he had on you.

He chuckled softly, his gloved hand reaching for yours. The touch was meant to be professional, part of the scene, but the way his fingers lingered, firm and deliberate, made it anything but.

"You think I can focus on lines when you're standing there looking like this?" he murmured, his tone teasing yet tinged with something far more dangerous.

The room seemed to shrink as he pulled you closer, his hand finding the small of your back. It wasn’t part of the scene, but neither of you cared. His closeness was intoxicating, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the warmth radiating off his body.

"Zhenya, they’re watching," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

"Let them," he replied, his breath ghosting over your lips. His thumb brushed your cheek, a tender contradiction to the fire in his eyes. "You’re mine in this world, Anastasia. Let me remind you."