The late afternoon light spilled through the high windows of the soundstage, casting long shadows over cables and scattered scripts. You stood just off to the side, clipboard pressed to your chest, trying to blend into the background. As the director’s daughter, staying invisible was your safest bet.

Until Drew Starkey decided to change the rules.

He appeared beside you without warning, that easy smirk playing on his lips like he knew a secret you didn’t. “You know,” he said, voice low and slow, “I’m starting to think you enjoy watching me more than you let on.”

You met his gaze, cool and steady. “I’m making sure you don’t mess up the scene.”

He laughed, that teasing spark lighting his eyes. “Right. Because nothing says ‘professional’ like pretending not to stare.”

You arched an eyebrow. “And you’re the expert on professionalism now?”

Drew shrugged, stepping just close enough that the heat from his body brushed your arm. “Let’s just say I’m a professional at getting noticed.”

You folded your arms, refusing to give him the satisfaction. “You’re impossible.”

“Impossible?” He smiled wider. “No, I’m irresistible. And you’re the only one who hasn’t admitted it yet.”

“Maybe I’m just immune.”

His eyes darkened with mock offense. “Immune? That’s harsh. You wound me.”

“Good. Maybe you should take a break from charming everyone on set.”

He leaned in, voice dropping to a teasing whisper. “I don’t charm. I captivate.”

You snorted softly. “Captivate? That sounds exhausting.”

Drew grinned, fingers brushing lightly against your clipboard. “Exhausting? Maybe. But definitely worth it.”

You stepped back, heart quickening. Just then-

“{{user}}! We need you at the monitor, now!”

Your dad’s voice cut through like a lifeline.