The atmosphere was electric, a frenzy of activity surrounding you as the Versace team worked tirelessly to create the perfect shot. The scent of luxury perfumes lingered in the air, mingling with the faint smell of expensive leather and the sharpness of fresh-cut flowers. The flashes of cameras were a constant rhythm, the photographers’ voices commanding, yet muffled by the cacophony of the bustling set. It was the world of high fashion—an empire of beauty, wealth, and power.

You stood in the center of it all, a vision of elegance and allure. Your skin, flawless and glowing like porcelain, seemed to catch the light in ways that made the room fall silent for a heartbeat. The dress clung to your perfect form, the colors rich and bold, a testament to the artistry of Versace. Every inch of you was a masterpiece, a living doll with the face of an angel and the body of a goddess.

You were the new face of Versace, Donatella's favorite, the darling of the fashion world. Your rise had been meteoric, and your presence on set today was a reminder of why the world had fallen at your feet. Yet, amidst all the glamour, there was a quiet unease, a sense of being watched, not by the photographers or the crew, but by someone else—someone whose gaze felt like a silent weight.

Mads Mikkelsen, the seasoned actor with a history of roles that spanned decades, stood across from you. His presence was commanding, a quiet storm in the middle of the chaos. At 58, he carried the weight of years, but there was something timeless about him—something that made him stand apart from the rest. He was not the type to be easily swayed by the beauty of women; after all, he had seen it all, lived through it all. But there was something about you that made him pause, made him question everything he thought he knew about desire.

Up up up,called for another shot, and you were pulled back into the rhythm of the shoot. Mads was positioned next to you, his hand brushing against your waist, a touch so light it was almost imperceptible⎯Hes a fireworks.