The suite at was drenched in golden light and the balcony doors were slightly open, letting in the distant hum of the city. The air smelled like fresh linen and expensive cologne, but the tension inside the room was suffocating.
Regina sat stiffly on the couch, her arms crossed, nails digging into her skin. Her glass of whiskey sat untouched on the table, the ice melting, just like her patience. Across from her, Daniel lounged in an armchair, looking far too relaxed for someone about to be yelled at. His long legs stretched out, whiskey glass dangling between his fingers like he had all the time in the world.
She knew that look—smug, unreadable, like he was already ten steps ahead of her and wanted to say something.
Regina exhaled sharply. "Say it."
Daniel took a slow sip, not even blinking. "Say what?"
Her jaw clenched. "Whatever excuse you've been sitting on for the past hour. I know you are sitting here because you want to say something so spit it out."
He let out a small chuckle, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. "You think I need an excuse?"
Regina's grip on the couch tightened. She finally turned her head, her glare sharp enough to cut glass. "Oh, I know you do."
Daniel sighed, setting his drink down. "Alright." He dragged the word out, like he was doing her a favor. "A major fashion brand reached out. They want us for their next campaign."
Regina stilled. "What?"
"They liked our 'chemistry' at the wedding," he continued, smirking like it was some kind of joke. "They're coming today."
Her stomach twisted.
Regina exhaled, trying to keep her voice steady. "And you're telling me now?"
Daniel shrugged lazily. "Would you have reacted any differently if I told you last night?"
That was it. The final match to the gasoline in her veins.
Regina shot up from the couch, her voice rising. "You knew about this the whole time?"
Daniel just watched her, amused. "Didn't think it was a big deal."
Regina let out a humorless laugh, shaking her head. "You are unbelievable."
His smirk widened. "So I've heard."
"I hate you."
Daniel exhaled through his nose, unbothered. "Hate me all you want. You're still showing up."
Regina took a step back, inhaling sharply. "No. No. I don't just—just fall in line because you say so, Daniel."
His smile finally faded. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Do you think I'd let you back out?"
Regina's heart pounded, her fingers curling into fists. She turned on her heel, walking toward the bedroom.
She barely made it two steps before his voice cut through the room.
"Don't you dare walk away from me, Regina."
She froze.
Slowly, she turned, her eyes blazing. "Excuse me?"
Daniel stood, voice lower now, but sharp and firm. "You want to yell? Fine. You want to throw a fit? Be my guest. But you're not walking away from this."
Regina's breath came faster. "I don't owe you a damn thing."
He took a step closer, towering over her now. "You owe them. The people your father left in ruins. The company that's hanging on by a damn thread. And whether you like it or not, you are the only thing keeping the illusion alive and also before you forget, you are my wife and I'm your husband."
Silence.
Regina's pulse thundered in her ears.
Daniel exhaled, his voice softening, just barely. "We have a shoot in two hours."
Her throat tightened. "I hate you."
Daniel reached out, his fingers brushing a loose strand of her hair back into place. His voice was gentle. "I know. The feeling's mutual."
****
The suite had been completely transformed.
Bright studio lights cast soft shadows on the walls, the professional setup making the already luxurious space feel like the cover of a high-fashion magazine. Cameras clicked, assistants buzzed around, and the scent of expensive perfume and setting powder lingered in the air.
Regina stood near the mirrored table, adjusting the thin straps of her emerald sequin dress, the fabric hugging her curves in a way that made her feel... exposed. Half of her breasts were already out, not that she minded that. She could already feel Daniel's gaze on her, as irritatingly confident as ever.
"Keep staring, and I'll gouge your eyes out," she murmured without looking at him.
Daniel, who was leaning lazily against the edge of another table, let out a soft chuckle. "Can you blame me? You look like every man's favorite sin."
Regina rolled her eyes, dabbing on an extra coat of lipstick. "And you look like a walking scandal. Try not to embarrass yourself."
Before he could respond, Marcello Dupont, the Italian director, clapped his hands together, commanding attention. "Alright, darlings! Let's make magic. You two, center stage."
Daniel pushed himself off the chair and smirked at her. "Shall we, wife?"
Regina gritted her teeth but strutted past him, her heels clicking against the polished floor. The set was arranged with a plush leather couch in the middle, surrounded by soft golden lighting that cast a sensual glow.
"First shot-Daniel, sit." Marcello gestured dramatically. "Regina, on his lap. Straddle him."
Regina's head snapped up. "Excuse me?"
Marcello waved a dismissive hand. "It's for intimacy! We are selling desire, longing! Now, be professional."
Daniel, of course, was already lounging back on the couch, legs spread wide, looking up at her expectantly. "You heard the man."
Regina exhaled sharply. "I hate you."
Daniel grinned. "You keep saying that, yet here you are."
She shot him a glare but carefully moved onto his lap, placing her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. His hands found her waist instinctively, fingers pressing just a little too firmly against the fabric of her dress.
"Closer," Marcello ordered, making a rolling gesture with his hands. "Regina, lean in-yes, like you own him. Daniel, hands lower on her waist. Yes! Give me longing, give me ache!"
Daniel's thumbs brushed against the exposed skin of her lower back, his voice teasing against her ear. "You're stiff, sweetheart. Are you always this tense when you sit on a man?"
Regina dug her nails into his shoulder in response.
Marcello beamed. "Magnifique! Now, Daniel, remove your shirt."
Daniel arched a brow. "Oh? That kind of shoot?"
Sophia, the assistant director, sighed impatiently.
"The brand wants sensual, not conservative. Off."
Daniel shrugged, slipping out of his black shirt in one swift motion, revealing toned muscles and the sharp planes of his chest. Regina kept her expression unreadable, but she hated how the heat of his skin seeped through the fabric of her dress.
"Regina, touch his chest," Marcello instructed.
Regina's fingers twitched against his shoulders.
Daniel smirked up at her. "What's wrong? Hands suddenly shy?"
Regina slapped a palm flat against his chest, just to shut him up.
Daniel winced slightly but laughed. "There's my girl."
Marcello gasped. "Yes, yes! Tension! Now, Regina, tilt your head back-expose your neck-Daniel, kiss her neck."
Regina's eyes snapped open. "Say what now?"
Marcello waved impatiently. "A soft kiss! It must feel natural, like you are drunk on each other's love!"
Regina glared at Daniel, who was already leaning in with zero hesitation, his breath ghosting over her skin.
"Don't you fucking dare," she whispered.
Daniel smirked. "Orders are orders."
And then his lips brushed against her neck-light, teasing, barely there. Just enough to infuriate her.
Regina sucked in a sharp breath.
Marcello on the other hand nearly collapsed with joy. "Yes! Passion!"
The cameras flashed.
****
The shoot finally wrapped up, the crew filtering out one by one, the studio setup being dismantled.
The suite was eerily quiet now, except for the lingering tension thick in the air.
Regina, still in her dress, kicked off her heels and walked straight to the minibar.
Daniel leaned against the couch, watching her with amusement. "Drinking already?"
She grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured herself a generous glass. "I deserve it. After all y-you put me through today. I'll say, I fucking do."
She lifted the glass to her lips, took a long, slow sip, then turned toward him.
With zero hesitation, she lifted her middle finger.
Daniel let out a soft laugh. "Mature."
Regina smirked. "Go to hell."
He picked up his abandoned glass, clinking it against the air. "Already there, sweetheart. And guess what? You're stuck with me."