The studio lot was louder than usual.

Cameras flashed. Assistants hurried across the pavement with clipboards and headsets. A crowd of reporters stood behind the barricades, waiting for the newest power couple in film to step out together.

At least… that’s what the public believed.

Simon Riley—known to millions as the brooding action star “Ghost”—stood at the center of the chaos. Black jeans. Dark jacket. The familiar skull mask he wore for promotion hung loosely in his hand while stylists fussed with his collar.

Beside him stood Lydia Vale.

Beautiful. Famous. Perfect for the cameras.

And completely fake.

Lydia slipped her arm through Simon’s as flashes exploded from every direction. She leaned against him like it was natural, like she belonged there, like the two of them weren’t carefully staged by their competing agencies.

“Smile, darling,” she murmured sweetly, tilting her head toward him. “They love it when you look at me like that.”

Simon didn’t answer. His jaw tightened slightly, eyes drifting past the cameras… searching.

Because the only person he actually wanted to see was standing twenty feet away.

You.

Another rising actress. Another face the press adored. And unfortunately, signed to the one company that hated Simon’s agency the most.

The rivalry made headlines.

Which meant the relationship had to stay hidden.

So instead, the world got Lydia.

You stood near the trailer line with the rest of the cast, arms folded as the cameras snapped away. From a distance, you looked calm.

Up close?

Anyone paying attention would’ve seen the tension in your posture.

Because Lydia noticed you too.

Her smile sharpened just slightly.

“Oh,” she hummed, loud enough for only Simon to hear. “She’s watching again.”

Simon’s gaze snapped back to Lydia instantly, irritation flickering behind his eyes.

“Don’t start.”

Lydia’s grip tightened possessively around his arm as another wave of photographers shouted for them to pose.

“Why not?” she whispered, voice silky with amusement. “The public already thinks you’re mine.”

Across the lot, your eyes met Simon’s.

Just for a second.

The look that passed between you wasn’t subtle. Not if someone knew what they were looking for. Months of secret late-night visits. Hidden entrances. Shared hotel rooms booked under fake names.

And every stolen moment that cameras weren’t allowed to catch.

Simon’s expression softened almost imperceptibly.

Then Lydia leaned up and kissed his cheek.

The cameras went wild.

Your stomach twisted.

The moment was over.

Simon pulled away immediately after the flashbulbs died down, wiping the faint lipstick mark from his skin with visible annoyance.

“Enough,” he muttered.

Lydia only laughed.

Later that evening, when the crowd had finally thinned and the set quieted, Simon slipped away from the trailers toward the darker end of the lot.

Right where he knew you’d be waiting.

The moment he stepped around the corner, you were there.

Leaning against the wall. Arms crossed. Eyes sharp.

Simon stopped a few feet away, running a tired hand through his hair.

“Before you say anything,” he muttered, voice low, “I hated every second of that.”

Behind you, a set of heels clicked against pavement.

Lydia appeared from the shadows, clearly having followed him.

Her smile returned instantly when she saw you.

“Well,” she said lightly, crossing her arms. “Isn’t this awkward.”

You straightened from the wall, unimpressed. “Don’t you have another camera to chase, Lydia?”

“Oh please,” Lydia scoffed. “I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. Next to my boyfriend.”

Simon groaned under his breath.

You let out a short laugh. “Your boyfriend? That’s funny. Last time I checked, contracts don’t count as relationships.”

The tension between you both crackled in the quiet lot.

Lydia stepped a little closer, gaze sharp with challenge. “Keep telling yourself that—“

“Enough,” Simon warned, He exhaled slowly, already sounding exhausted by the situation.

But his eyes drifted right back to you.