Ember and Dylan arrived at the new shooting set—a bar aptly named The Dark. As soon as they stepped inside, Ember's gaze was drawn to the grand chandelier hanging above, its golden glow casting a warm light over the rustic decor. The entire place exuded a cozy, country charm, wrapping her in an inviting atmosphere.
A familiar voice pulled her from her thoughts.
"I've been waiting for you."
Emir stood before her, a teasing smile playing on his lips.
"Sorry for being late," Ember said, feeling a sudden wave of flustered guilt.
"It's okay," Emir reassured her, but his expression shifted as he studied her face. "But what about you?"
Ember blinked, puzzled. "What do you mean?"
His brow furrowed with concern. "Are you not feeling well?"
"Why would you think that?" she asked, a small frown forming on her lips.
"Your cheeks are red. I think you might have caught a cold."
Ember's breath hitched. Was it the cold… or something else? She hesitated before admitting, "Maybe just a little." Her heart fluttered, the embarrassment creeping up her spine.
Emir didn't seem convinced. "Why do you look so nervous?"
She quickly shook her head. "Not at all! Uh… Can you tell me where the ladies room is?"
He gestured toward the hallway. "It's right over there."
"Thanks," Ember mumbled, turning on her heel and making a beeline for the ladies room . The moment she stepped inside, she shut the door behind her—
Bang!
Emir watched her retreat, an amused smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "I think she's in a rush."
Dylan, who had been watching the exchange in silence, finally spoke, his voice edged with impatience. "Where is she?"
"She's in the washroom," Emir replied, still eyeing the door she had disappeared behind.
"Okay."
Emir grabbed Dylan's arm. "Hey, what's your plan? Where are you going? Don't tell me you're going after her. At least let her have some privacy in the washroom. Go get changed instead."
"Fine," Dylan relented, though he looked far from satisfied.
Meanwhile, Ember stood in the ladies room, her thoughts swirling around the kiss they had shared. The memory of his soft lips lingered on her mind, filling her with warmth and intensity. She couldn't believe how this was the first time she had felt so alive.
Why am I blushing so much? Her heart raced as she pressed her hands against her cheeks, feeling the heat radiating from them.
A soft voice broke through her thoughts. "Hey, Ember, are you there? Reply to me! You're making me scared. If you don't respond, I'm coming in!"
What should I do? Ember's voice barely rose above a whisper as she muttered, "I'm here..."
"I'm coming in..." Dylan warned.
Before she could react, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.
"What? Are you mad?" Dylan exclaimed, startled by the sight of her, his face tense and his eyes wide with worry. "Are you okay? Did you get hurt?"
Before he could finish his sentence… he wrapped his arms around her in a sudden embrace. The shock left Ember momentarily speechless, though she realized he must have been scared by how long she had taken. "Okay, okay, I'm alright. Don't be like this," she reassured him as he released her, his hands still resting on her shoulders as he searched her face for any signs of distress.
"See? I'm fine," she insisted, smiling softly. He held her chin gently, their eyes locking, and she could see the fear in his gaze, as if he were holding back tears. "Don't look at me like that; you're scaring me, Dylan."
After a moment of silence, he asked, "What were you doing in here for so long?"
Ember wasn't surprised by his question; she knew she had lost track of time.
"Sorry, it's my fault," she admitted, guilt creeping into her voice. "I didn't even tell you I was going to the washroom. I was just lost in thought and didn't realize how late it was…"
Dylan studied her, his brows drawing together. "What were you thinking about that made you lose track of time?" he pressed.
Ember tried to play it cool. "Like what?" she replied, feigning innocence.
Instead of answering, Dylan's gaze flicked to her hair, a teasing glint in his eyes. "Your hair is all messed up."
Frowning, Ember turned toward the mirror and groaned at the sight—her hair was a complete mess, frizzed from where she had unconsciously run her fingers through it. Heat rushed to her cheeks.
"Let me see," she muttered, embarrassed.
Dylan chuckled, crossing his arms. "Who did this?"
Ember swallowed hard. What do I tell him? That I was thinking about that kiss? Her fingers absently scratched her head, nerves creeping in.
Dylan leaned closer, eyes narrowing. "Hey, what are you murmuring about?" Concern flickered in his voice.
"Nothing," she said quickly, forcing an overly bright smile.
He tilted his head, unconvinced. "Are you saying that because of me? Then what?"
Frustration bubbled inside her, but she masked it with mock annoyance. "Yes, it's because of you! You scared me with your sudden moves, and now look at my hair!"
She meant the kiss—but she wasn't about to say it out loud.
Dylan's smirk faltered slightly, realization dawning in his eyes. A brief pause lingered between them before he sighed. "Okay, I'm sorry."
Ember exhaled, willing her heartbeat to settle. "Alright then… let's get back to the shooting set."
Dylan hesitated for a moment before nodding. "Okay." But Ember could sense it—he still wasn't entirely at ease.
"Finally! You both made it! Go get changed," Emir announced, his excitement evident.
"Going," Dylan replied, already making his way toward the changing room.
Ember followed suit, stepping into the changing room, where the stylist greeted her with a bright smile.
"Ma'am, come on! Let's start with your makeup."
Ember gave a small nod as she settled into the chair. The stylist worked quickly, and once finished, she gestured toward a nearby outfit.
"Is that the dress you're going to wear? Go and change."
Ember hesitated before picking up the dress—a striking shade of red. She held it up, eyes widening as she took in the details. It was far too short, ending just above her knees. Strapless. And the back? Well… there was hardly any back at all.
A wave of discomfort washed over her.
"I will not wear this dress. Go tell Emir," Ember stated firmly, shaking her head.
The stylist hesitated. "But…"
"Just go," she urged, her tone leaving no room for argument.
A few moments later, Emir appeared, concern flickering across his face.
"What happened, Ember?"
Crossing her arms, she met his gaze. "That dress isn't my style. I can't wear it. Sorry."
Emir frowned. "What's wrong with this dress?"
Her shoulders tensed. "It's too short! I can't wear this."
Emir sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Please, Ember! You said you would help me. Do me this favor—at least try it on." His voice held a desperate edge, his eyes practically pleading.
Frustration bubbled up inside her. "Emir, you can't do this to me!" she exclaimed.
His expression softened, but his determination didn't waver. "You'd look good in it! Please… I don't have time to argue. Just try it on."
Ember bit her lip, torn between standing her ground and the undeniable sincerity in his voice.
"Can you just stop?" Ember cut in, her voice firm but laced with hesitation. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she took a steadying breath. "I have one condition first: I don't want anyone else there except the photographer and you, okay?"
Emir exhaled in relief. "Okay. Thank you, Ember."
Satisfied, she nodded. "Now go out."
Emir turned toward the door but called over his shoulder, "Stylist, help her!" before stepping outside.
With a deep sigh, Ember turned back to the stylist. The dress was a challenge—especially the intricate ribbon lacing up the back—but after a brief struggle, she finally managed to slip into it.
The stylist's eyes widened in delight. "You look hot, ma'am!" she gushed, admiration clear in her tone.
Ember groaned, tugging at the hem of the dress as heat rushed to her cheeks. "Stop staring at me! You're making me shy!"
The stylist giggled but quickly handed her a long black robe.
"Here, cover up. And don't worry, I checked—there's no one outside."
Ember exhaled, grateful. "Good. Let's go then."
With each step, her nerves tingled. She wasn't sure if it was the dress, the moment, or something else entirely, but she forced herself to keep moving.
As she stepped out, wrapped securely in the black robe and covering her face with black mask , her eyes were instantly drawn to Dylan. He stood on a bar table, a glass of wine in hand, exuding effortless confidence. His sleek black tuxedo fit him perfectly, the cherry-red shirt beneath adding a bold contrast. But it was his eyes—those beautiful, piercing eyes—that held her captive. The moment they locked onto hers, a wave of comfort washed over her, melting away some of her nervousness.
Before she could even process her own reaction, a teasing voice broke the silence.
"Ember, are you done glancing at him?"
She turned sharply to find Emir smirking at her, mischief dancing in his eyes.
"Are you talking to me?" Ember asked, surprise flickering across her face.
"Yes," Emir confirmed, amusement dancing in his eyes.
She quickly lowered her gaze, heat creeping up her neck. "Sorry,".
Emir chuckled, shaking his head. "it's okay, Let's start."
His words snapped Ember back to reality. She turned to the stylist. "Hey, can you stay here and give me my robe back when the shoot is over?" Her voice was steady, but her heart was anything but.
"Okay, ma'am," the stylist replied.
Ember sighed, offering a small smile. "Don't call me ma'am. Just call me Ember. And please… don't tell anyone about me."
The stylist's eyes softened, her own smile widening as she nodded.
Emir clapped his hands together. "Ember, go to your position."
She inhaled sharply, willing herself to stay calm. It's time to remove the robe, Ember. You can do this. It's just a little shoot. No need to be nervous.
But deep down, she knew she was nervous.
Just take a deep breath.
She exhaled slowly. Huff. Huff. Now it's time…
With a shaky breath, she let the robe slip from her shoulders, the cool air sending a shiver down her spine. Every step toward Dylan felt heavier than the last. The dress clung to her, making her hyper-aware of every movement, every glance in her direction. She tugged at the fabric anxiously, trying to ground herself, but nothing could prepare her for what happened next.
When she finally lifted her gaze, her breath caught.
Dylan was staring at her—intently.
His dark eyes burned with something unreadable, something that sent a rush of warmth through her. And in that moment, as their gazes locked, the world around them blurred.
Everything else faded away.
All that remained was him.
And the undeniable spark between them.
Meanwhile, in Dylan's mind…
She looks so hot today.
The thought struck him like a lightning bolt, leaving him momentarily stunned. He had never seen Ember dressed like this before. She usually stuck to full sleeves and longer hemlines—always looking effortlessly cute and elegant. But now… now she stood before him in a way he had never imagined.
And yet, despite how breathtaking she looked, he could see the discomfort in her eyes.
His jaw clenched. That brat! A surge of anger flared within him. How dare he force my girl to wear something she doesn't feel comfortable in?
But then, just as quickly as the anger came, another realization crept in—one he wasn't sure how to handle. Damn… but she looks incredible. He hated how much he appreciated this moment, how it revealed just how stunning her figure truly was.
From across the room, Ember studied him, brows slightly furrowed. Why do I feel a sudden change in his attitude? There was something off—Dylan kept shifting between calm and tense, his emotions flickering too fast to decipher.
Is he blushing? Or am I just imagining things?
Before she could dwell on it any longer, a teasing voice cut through the moment.
"Hey! Stop staring at her and stop blushing!"
Emir's voice was laced with amusement. "In this shoot, you don't have to blush!"
Dylan's gaze snapped to Emir, sharp and piercing.
The playful smirk on Emir's face faltered. A sudden chill ran down his spine as he locked eyes with Dylan, the intensity in his stare unmistakable.
A nervous chuckle escaped him. Why do I feel this sudden chill?
"Let's start," Emir announced, his voice steady and commanding. "This photo represents the moment when you both bump into each other at this bar."
"Okay…" Dylan replied, a hint of anticipation lacing his tone.
Emir turned to Ember. "Just start moving from here, and when you reach this spot, you'll bump into each other. Got it?"
Ember nodded, though her heart was racing. "Okay."
The shooting began. Ember took her position, drawing a steady breath before stepping forward. But just as she started walking—
"Cut!"
She halted abruptly, confusion flashing across her face. "What happened?"
Emir sighed, crossing his arms. "You both are staring into each other's eyes, and that's not what we need. Just stop staring at each other. Let's do it differently."
A warm flush crept up Ember's neck. She hadn't even realized how intensely she had been looking at Dylan.
"What way?" she asked, curiosity mingling with nervousness.
Emir picked up a glass of wine and handed it to her. "Ember, take this and pretend you're not interested in drinking. Imagine you have something on your mind—something distracting you—then start walking."
She took the glass, rolling it between her fingers. "What should I think about?"
Emir shrugged. "Just… anything that keeps you from looking at him."
Easier said than done.
"Okay," she replied, though uncertainty gnawed at her.
As Emir walked over to Dylan to give him instructions, Ember racked her brain for something—anything—to distract her. But no matter how hard she tried, nothing seemed to work.
Her mind was already too occupied.
"Let's start again! Take your places!" Emir called, snapping her back to the moment.
Ember took another deep breath. This time, she had to focus.
Even if the only thing distracting her… was him.
As soon as Emir called "let's do it !" Ember's gaze instinctively flickered to Dylan, standing a short distance away. She quickly lowered her eyes, just as instructed, but they betrayed her—fixating on his lips.
A rush of memories flooded her mind. In the car. The warmth of his touch. The way his lips had felt against hers. Her fingers tightened around the glass of wine as the moment replayed in vivid detail, sending a shiver down her spine.
"Start!" Emir's voice jolted her back to reality.
Taking a steady breath, Ember began to walk. But the thoughts of that kiss clung to her, refusing to let go. The way he had pulled her close, the way time had stood still—focus, Ember, focus.
Click! Click! Snap! Snap!
The sound of the camera shutters echoed in the air as she lifted her gaze. Dylan was watching her. Their eyes locked, and he mirrored her movement, lowering his face toward her. The space between them disappeared, and for a fleeting second, nothing else existed.
The tension crackled like a live wire.
He leaned in—closer, closer—until she could feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. Her heart pounded in her chest. The air between them felt thick, charged with something unspoken, something undeniable.
And then, reality crashed back.
Ember's breath hitched as she took an abrupt step back, suddenly hyper-aware of the people watching. But in her haste, her ankle twisted beneath her. A gasp escaped her lips as she stumbled—
Dylan's reflexes were quicker than hers.
In one swift motion, his hand shot out, gripping hers firmly as he pulled her toward him. The world tilted, and before she could process what was happening, she was against his chest—so close, too close.
Her lips brushed against his chin.
A spark shot through her, searing and unexpected. The heat of his skin, the scent of him—it was overwhelming.
Realizing the closeness, Ember quickly stepped back, putting much-needed space between them.
"Cut!" Emir's voice rang through the set, snapping everyone out of the trance. "Very well done, both of you. Next pose!"
Dylan chuckled, a satisfied grin tugging at his lips.
"Okay," he replied smoothly, his eyes still locked onto Ember's.
Her heart was still racing.
"Alright, for the next pose, you both need to portray that Ember is drunk, and Dylan is taking her back," Emir instructed, studying them intently. "So, Ember, you'll need to act like you're drunk."
"But I've never had alcohol. How am I supposed to act drunk?" Ember asked, a wave of uncertainty washing over her.
"If you've never tried it, just give it a shot. It'll help with your acting," Emir suggested, his tone encouraging.
"Sorry, but in my culture, I'm not allowed to drink," Ember stated firmly, crossing her arms in defiance.
"Please, just consider it," Emir pressed, attempting to persuade her.
Ember took a step back, her expression unwavering. "Don't come any closer. I won't agree to that."
Before Emir could say another word, Dylan stepped forward, his voice cutting through the tension. "Stop it. She doesn't have to act drunk. Just follow my lead." His tone was calm but firm, leaving no room for argument.
Ember hesitated for a moment before murmuring, "Hm…"
"But—" Emir started again.
"You want to finish the shoot, right?" Dylan interrupted, his voice carrying a quiet authority.
Emir exhaled, defeated. "Yes, yes."
Dylan turned to Ember. "Let's start." Without another word, he reached for her hand, pulling her close.
A rush of shyness flooded Ember, and her heart skipped a beat. Why am I nervous? This isn't the first time I've been close to him… Embarrassed, she dropped her gaze.
"Photographer, keep clicking. We'll start on one… two… three!" Dylan commanded.
Click! Click! Snap!
The rhythmic sound of the camera shutters filled the room, but Ember barely heard it over the pounding of her own heartbeat.
Thump! Thump!
She couldn't understand why she felt this way, why his touch sent sparks racing up her arm. But one thing was certain—something between them had changed.
Dylan gently lifted Ember's chin with his finger, coaxing her to look up at him. At that moment, the air between them felt charged, almost sizzling. His gaze softened, and before she could react, he pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. Then, without a word, he shrugged off his coat and draped it over her shoulders, shielding her from both the chill in the air and the revealing cut of her dress.
Before she could protest, he swept her into his arms and began walking toward the door. Ember melted into his embrace, resting her head against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoed in her ears, calming her nerves and making her feel safe. She closed her eyes, allowing herself to savor the warmth and security he offered.
Then—
"Cut!"
A loud voice shattered the tranquility. Startled, Ember jolted in Dylan's arms, her body tensing at the sudden interruption. I was just about to relax, and he had to shout!
"Hey! Are you mad? Can't you see she's scared? Look at her! She's trembling!" Dylan snapped, his protective instincts flaring.
Ember took a steadying breath. "Dylan, put me down," she murmured, her voice still shaky.
Realizing her discomfort, Dylan gently set her back on her feet.
"Sorry for that outburst, Ember," Emir said, his tone softer now. "Your shoot is complete. Can we head home? I'm a little tired."
"Of course, you can go," Emir replied understandingly. "We've just left the third scene. It's not important now; we can shoot it another day."
Ember sighed in relief. "Okay. Thanks. Bye!"
Turning to Dylan, she flashed him a playful smile, her fingers wrapping around his hand as she leaned in slightly. With wide, innocent eyes, she pouted up at him. "Hubby, I'm so tired! Can we go home? I'm feeling a little hungry," she teased, blinking dramatically.
Dylan chuckled, shaking his head at her antics. "Let's go home."
"Hm," Ember hummed, smiling as she nestled closer to him. They both get changed back.
As they drove through the city, Ember could sense the storm of emotions brewing inside Dylan. His silence —it all pointed to one thing. He was angry. But why?
After a moment of thought, realization struck her. Oh! He's actually mad about that.
Determined to lift his mood,
She looked at the partition that separated the driver from them for privacy, and it was closed. she turned to him with a soft pout. "Hubby, I'm really hungry." Her gaze drifted outside, watching the unfamiliar streets pass by. The weight of being in a foreign place settled over her. "I'm all alone here, and I don't even know the language." She sighed, resting her head on his lap, her voice turning playful. "Can you lend me some money for food? I don't even have a single penny to buy something."
Dylan stilled for a moment before gently lifting her chin, making her look at him. His eyes burned with an intensity that sent a shiver down her spine. "Don't you dare say that you're alone here," he murmured, his voice steady yet filled with emotion.
A small smile crept onto Ember's lips. "Hm."
Before she could say anything more, he pulled her closer, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, fleeting kiss that made her heart race. She smiled up at him, warmth spreading through her chest.
Turning to the driver, Dylan commanded, "Take us to a restaurant."
"Okay, sir," the driver replied.
Ember sat up, her curiosity piqued. "So, what's the plan? Where are we going?" she asked, shifting to the other side of the car to face him.
Dylan smirked, his expression unreadable. "You'll know when we get there."
"Okay," she said, excitement bubbling within her.
When they finally arrived, Ember's eyes widened in awe. The restaurant stood like a piece of history, adorned with intricate Chinese architecture and glowing lanterns that bathed the entrance in a warm, golden hue. The scent of spices and sizzling dishes filled the air, making her stomach grumble in anticipation.
Dylan stepped out of the car first, then turned to her with an outstretched hand. "Let's go."
Hm, Ember nodded, following Dylan inside.
A Battle with Chopsticks -
The restaurant was warm and inviting, filled with the aroma of spices and sizzling dishes. As she returned from the washroom, her eyes widened at the sight of the table. Oh! You've already ordered? she exclaimed.
I know you were hungry, Dylan replied, flashing her a knowing smile.
Hey, I'm hungry, but not that much! she teased, playfully nudging him.
Well, I ordered it. What can we do now? Come on, eat, he urged, gesturing toward the array of colorful Chinese dishes spread before them.
Okay, Ember agreed, taking a seat. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation as she admired the vibrant spread of food.
Let's start, Dylan said, picking up his chopsticks with ease and diving into his meal.
Ember watched him, feeling both admiration and frustration. Everyone around them was effortlessly using chopsticks, and she was determined to do the same. You can do this! Just focus, she told herself, gripping the chopsticks with newfound determination.
She reached for a piece of food—only to miss completely. She tried again, but the slippery piece slipped right out of her grasp. Her brows furrowed in frustration. Taking a deep breath, she pointed dramatically at the dish. Hey, you food! I'm not going to eat you if you don't cooperate with my chopsticks this time!
Dylan burst into laughter. Ha ha ha! You think being strict will make the food obey you?
The sound of his laughter drew the attention of the people around them, and Ember suddenly felt self-conscious. Her cheeks flushed as she quickly sank back into her chair. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to embarrass you in public, she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dylan, still smiling, stood up and walked over to her. He gently took her hand. Stand up, he said softly.
Ember hesitated, then rose from her seat, her lips curling into a playful pout. It's okay. If you want to punish me, I'll stand here until you're satisfied, she said, crossing her arms dramatically.
He smiled, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, and patted her head affectionately. Do you really think I would punish you for this? he teased, playfully pinching her nose.
Ouch! That hurts! Ember exclaimed, though laughter bubbled in her voice.
Let me teach you how to use chopsticks, Dylan offered, gently guiding her to sit on his laps.
Okay, she agreed, eager to learn.
He placed his fingers over hers, his touch warm and steady as he adjusted her grip. See? This is how you do it.
Ember focused intently, her brow furrowed in deep concentration. Dylan watched her, an amused smile playing on his lips. She looks so cute when she's focused, he thought to himself, unable to tear his gaze away.
After several failed attempts—each more frustrating than the last—Ember let out an exasperated sigh. Dylan, it's too hard for me to learn! I'm not going to eat this! she huffed, setting the chopsticks down in defeat.
Dylan chuckled, shaking his head. Without hesitation, he called over a waiter. Can you bring a fork, please?
Ember's eyes widened in disbelief. Wait—you knew they had forks? Are you just playing with my hunger? she accused, crossing her arms.
That same irresistible smile curved on Dylan's lips. Let me feed you, he said smoothly.
Hm, she murmured, feeling a sudden warmth rush through her.
Open your mouth, he instructed, his tone playful yet gentle.
Aah! Ember obediently opened her mouth, and Dylan placed a bite of food between her lips.
Her eyes lit up as she chewed. Ohmohmohm! This is so good! she exclaimed, savoring the explosion of flavors.
After a few more bites, she pushed herself up from his lap with a satisfied sigh. I'm done! It's too yummy! she declared, her face glowing with happiness.
"Go wait in the car. I'll handle the payment," Dylan said, his voice gentle yet firm.
"Okay," Ember agreed, feeling lighthearted as she walked toward the car.
As they drove back to his house, she turned to him with curiosity. "Why didn't the waiter bring a fork when you asked? You had to feed me the whole time, and you barely ate because of me."
Dylan smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Actually, they don't have forks."
"Oh!" Ember gasped, realization dawning upon her. A rosy hue crept onto her cheeks.
Dylan chuckled at her reaction. "Yes," he confirmed, his gaze softening as he watched her.
When they finally arrived home, Dylan turned to her. "Go and get some sleep. You're tired from today."
Ember let out a small yawn, stretching her arms. "Yes, I really am. Good night."
"Good night, Ember," he said softly, watching her disappear inside.
Dylan's Side -
As Ember happily savored each bite, Dylan subtly glanced toward the waiter and gave a discreet signal. With a simple nod, he silently conveyed, Don't bring the forks now.
A secret smile played on his lips as he continued feeding her. He wanted to savor this moment, to make her feel special—just as she unknowingly made him feel every time she looked at him with those bright, trusting eyes.