Lucian hurriedly undid the buttons on his shirt, exposing his rock-hard, muscled stomach. He breathed heavily, resting back on the couch.
"Fuck..." William gasped, pulling the shirt open wider. "This is not good. She punched you that hard, which means she knows what you are. If this hit was delivered to a human, her fist would probably puncture the poor soul's stomach."
"William shut the fuck up," Lucian breathed, trying to sit up. His agent helped him up a bit and then handed a half bottle of Vodka him.
"Here, it helps to kill the pain. You'll heal but with this damage, it's going to take a while." William sat down beside him, pressing gently on the purpling flesh.
"Fuck, ouch," Lucian hissed, once the pressure was put on his lower ribcage. "I swear to God, William, I will break your neck."
"Hey, don't get mad at me. I wasn't the one who broke your rib with a single punch."
The movie star shot his agent a dead eye glare, which forced him to back away from his alpha cautiously. Lucian tried to relax, waiting for the healing process to begin. It was taking a while, but he soon felt good enough to walk, even with the hellfire pain he still felt. William helped him to redress and fixed his hair so nothing seemed out of place when they got back on set. For the rest of the day, Lucian and Csilla shared cutthroat glares, mostly trying to avoid each other without it being too obvious. William, on the other hand, was loving the drama and often teased the two. Barnes soon threw in the towel and called it a day once he was one hundred percent convinced the two popular stars were meant to be on the set together. For him, those flying sparks were grown into fireworks and atomic bombs.
"Good work today, everyone. Now that we have our leadership roles, tomorrow, we'll have several famous and new people to try out for the smaller parts and the main antagonist. Any questions, come to my office." With that, he headed straight for a distant trailer with Manager painted on the door in bold.
Lucian left as quickly as he could, almost completely healed by the time he was halfway home. His agent sat in the front passenger seat beside him, checking some form of social media on his phone. He seemed quite content with himself, which meant one thing; Lucian had no choice but to go along with whatever is going on. He had no say in anything after their first day on a set so he is going to have to bear with his new sworn enemy. That was the main reason he agreed to hire William Diaz as his agent in the first place; the man had the instincts of a psychic.
"Do you want to talk about today?" He asked, scrolling through his phone, not bothering to even throw a sidewards glance at his boss.
"No," Lucian hissed, keeping his eyes solely on the evening sunlit road.
William chuckled lightly, leaning back in his seat. "What do you think of the script?"
"My threat earlier still stands."
"Right..."
The rest of the drive to the townhouse was quiet apart from the notification sounds of a message coming in on William's phone every now and again. Lucian did the same thing he had grown a habit of; tossing the keys to his mute, loyal servant, Evan and signing his greetings before heading into the house. His agent followed quietly, watching his surroundings keenly. The last time, a cameraman from a popular magazine found his way onto the premises in hopes of taking illegal photos and was caught by one of the guards that secretly roamed the environment in the shadows and was sentenced to a life of padded walls after he was hit too hard in the head with a metal rod. So far, most of the others in his line of work kept their distance from the place after the news topped the front page of the local newspaper. The cameraman's act was concluded as illegal and he got what he deserved for breaking into the actor's home, according to the opinion of the people.
Lucian took a seat by the fireplace on a single-person chair, watching the flames lick at the walls of its enclosure. William entered the room with a bottle of Johnny Walker scotch whiskey and two glasses, resting them on the coffee table that stood a few meters away from where the chairs were situated.
"I suggest you have a drink before we begin," he announced quietly, pouring them both a drink. "You are going to need it if this thing is truly a trigger."
"For once, I agree with you, Will," Lucian sighed, taking the half-filled glass from him. "I'm still considering my sanity for allowing you to be here on such a personal note."
William laughed, pleasantly, lifting his glass for a toast. "To your new movie and its future success."
Nodding, Lucian touched his glass to his agent's before downing its contents in one go. "Alright, let's do this."
William sat down in the chair opposite his boss's, taking a sip from his own glass. "Okay. Say her name."
Taking a deep breath, Lucian rested the empty glass on the coffee table and leaned back into his chair. He kept his eyes trained on the Persian rug beneath his feet as he whispered her name, the same way he did the night before. As soon as he finished her surname, he leaned forward, clutching the intricately carved wooden armrests of the chair, his vision blurring to the rhythm of the intensifying throb in his head. A wave of heat rushed over his body, forcing him to fall to the floor, panting heavily. The garments on his body suddenly felt like a burden to him and he quickly tore his white dress shirt from his body in a hurry.
"Fucking hell," he moaned, turning onto his back. By now, sweat covered his body, soaking through his black dress pants that were now ripped partially. The buckle of his belt clattered to the floor a few feet away from his ruined shirt. "It's....it's too much."
William watched in disbelief. His boss was writhing uncomfortably on the floor, sweating buckets as he ripped his clothes apart to free himself. He was panting heavily, clawing at his flesh as if to remove his skin as well.
"Hey, how did you stop it," William questioned, the tug-of-war in his mind prohibiting him from trying to touch Lucian.
"Ah...I don't....know...FUCK!"
"Forgive me, Alpha..."