Morning light streamed through the massive floor-to-ceiling window of Leon's apartment, bathing the bedroom in a warm golden glow.
Dust motes danced lazily in the beams, like tiny startled sprites.
The air felt languid and serene, a stark contrast to the battlefield-like chaos of the past few weeks.
Leon woke first.
He turned to his side, gazing at Anne, still fast asleep beside him.
Her blonde hair spilled across the pillow like flowing sunlight, her cheeks faintly flushed from sleep, her lips slightly pursed, impossibly soft.
He couldn't resist reaching out, gently brushing a stray lock from her forehead.
The small gesture made her eyelashes flutter, and she slowly opened her eyes.
Those blue eyes, hazy at first, focused on Leon's face and instantly lit up with a warm, radiant smile.
"Morning," she murmured, her voice a little husky, nuzzling the pillow like a kitten. "What time is it?"
"Early," Leon replied softly, his arm naturally slipping around her waist, pulling her closer. "Nice, isn't it? We can stay in bed."
Anne let out a contented sigh, curling into his embrace, her cheek pressed against his chest.
"This is better than a box office bonus," she said, closing her eyes to savor the rare quiet. "I wish every day could be like this."
Leon kissed the top of her head, her familiar shampoo scent lingering in his nose.
He didn't say anything, just soaked in the warmth of the moment.
His hand traced lightly over her smooth back, drawing a faint shiver from her.
Anne looked up, her eyes glinting with mischief, and leaned in to kiss his jaw, then his lips.
"So, my schedule today," she mumbled between kisses along his neck, "is to stay in bed with Mr. Leon Lee until we're starving, right?"
"Booked solid, Ms. Claire," Leon replied with mock seriousness, his fingers teasing circles on her waist, making her squirm and giggle. "Also includes critiquing that awful movie we watched last night and deciding if lunch is pizza or your homemade pasta."
Anne laughed, swatting him playfully. "Oh God, don't remind me of that movie. I still don't get why the villain turned out to be the hero's long-lost brother."
"Because the writer lost it," Leon deadpanned, leaning down to kiss her, cutting off her complaints.
They tussled in the sheets, trading soft kisses and whispered banter, the sunlight growing warmer, the room's temperature rising subtly.
The covers slipped, revealing Anne's smooth shoulder and Leon's toned chest.
They clung to this stolen leisure, as if making up for all the intimacy lost during the promotional grind.
Fingers intertwined, breaths mingled, bodies pressed close—every small gesture spoke of affection and reluctance to let go.
But quiet moments in Hollywood are fleeting, and their preciousness lies in their brevity.
The phone's ring shattered the bedroom's peace.
Leon cursed under his breath, reluctantly reaching for the nightstand.
It was Anne's phone.
Her agent, Sandra.
Anne sighed, her dreamy sweetness replaced by resignation. She answered, forcing her voice to sound alert:
"Hey, Sandra… yeah, just woke up…"
Leon could hear Sandra's rapid-fire, ecstatic voice through the receiver.
"Anne! My star! Rested enough? Because I've got huge news! Massive!" Sandra's voice practically burst through. "L'Oréal! They want you! Asia region ambassador! They saw your Seoul and Tokyo interviews yesterday and think your image is perfect—fresh, vibrant, with that 'survivor' glow!"
"They're offering $1.5 million to talk about being their face in Asia!"
Anne's eyes widened at the number, mouthing a silent "WOW" to Leon.
"And Vogue U.S. edition! Feature interview, 'Hollywood's New Muse'! You're meeting L'Oréal's marketing director at 3 p.m., then a Vogue editorial dinner tonight!"
"Wait, Sandra, this is…" Anne tried to protest.
"No waiting! Oh, and I signed you up for an acting masterclass in West Hollywood with Judith Weston!" Sandra barreled on. "Listen, Anne, you're not just the girl from low-budget horror anymore. You're the lead in a movie that grossed over $100 million in North America! Your value, your positioning—it's all different now. We've got to seize this and push you to the A-list!"
Anne shot Leon a pained look as Sandra continued: "I sent your schedule. Driver's picking you up in an hour for styling! Get moving!"
The call ended abruptly.
Anne stared at her phone, now flooded with a packed itinerary, and let out a dramatic groan, flopping back onto the pillow.
"God help me…"
"L'Oréal? Vogue? Acting masterclass?" Leon raised an eyebrow, ruffling her hair. "Looks like Ms. Claire's about to be a superstar."
Anne turned, giving him a pitiful look. "I feel… like I'm not ready for this. Yesterday we were eating cold pizza in pajamas, and now I'm supposed to do endorsements, photo shoots, and study acting with some guru?"
She paused, her voice dropping. "And The Princess Diaries already cast me, right? Why all this…?"
"The Princess Diaries needs a lead who can carry it," Leon said rationally, though he felt a twinge of unease at the sudden onslaught. "And Sandra's mapping out a long-term path to make you an A-lister. The acting class is smart—any ambitious actor should keep sharpening their craft."
He paused, a sly smirk tugging at his lips. "As for me, I just want my leading lady to bring more spark to our next scene together."
Anne hurled a pillow at him.
She sat up, the covers slipping off. "Fine. If I can't escape it…" She took a deep breath, psyching herself up. "Bring it on! Workaholic mode, who's scared?"
But her eyes betrayed a flicker of longing for the lazy morning they'd just lost.
Not long after Anne left, Leon's phone rang.
Scarlett.
He answered, and before he could say "hello," her voice exploded through the line, a mix of ear-splitting squeals and incoherent cheers.
"I got it! Leon! Best Newcomer Award! Oh my God, did you hear?! It's me! I won! Am I awesome or what?! Stunned yet?! Hahaha!"
Her voice was so high-pitched with excitement it nearly cracked.
Leon pulled the phone away from his ear, but a genuine grin spread across his face.
He could picture her—face flushed, dancing around, green eyes wide and sparkling with elation.
"I heard, I heard. Congrats, darling!" Leon said, thrilled for her.
"Leon, I actually did it!" Her voice caught, a hint of a sob breaking through. "My hands are still shaking. I almost forgot my speech up there. I think I forgot to thank my dad—he's gonna kill me…"
"He won't. He's probably bursting with pride," Leon said softly, his heart swelling for her.
He knew what this award meant to Scarlett, how pivotal it was for her future.
"Congrats, Scarlett. You earned it. You were incredible."
"Enjoy this moment—it's yours. Wish I was there. I'll be waiting when you get back."
"Yeah!" Scarlett cheered, her name being called in the background, pulling her toward celebrations. "They're calling me! Gotta go!"
"Europe's throwing me invites—London, Paris… might be a while before I'm back…" Her voice held a mix of excitement and a touch of regret and exhaustion.
"No rush," Leon said gently. "I'll be here. When you're back, we'll throw the biggest party for you."
"Deal!" Scarlett whooped. "Gotta go! Love you!"
The call cut off. Leon held the phone, his smile lingering.
He could almost feel the damp Venetian air and the feverish buzz of the film festival through the line.
And her next gift—Girl with a Pearl Earring.
The novel was about to be published.
The script sat quietly on his hard drive.
He wasn't going to tell her yet, letting her joy settle, saving the surprise for the perfect moment.
Just as Anne couldn't escape fame's "side effects," Leon—as the mastermind behind Final Destination's phenomenon and Hollywood's newest "golden touch" writer and leading man—faced even more attention and obligations.
His phone buzzed nonstop.
Studio execs, renowned producers, even directors and actors he'd only heard of, all sent invitations.
Some were for wrap parties, some for business talks, others straight-up social galas.
Many were impossible to decline.
Like the thank-you banquet from Fox's top brass, celebrating Final Destination's triumph and subtly probing future collaborations.
Or the intimate dinner hosted by an Oscar-winning producer, attended by industry elites—a nod of acceptance into their circle.
But today, a particularly intriguing invitation arrived. From Leonardo DiCaprio.
Fresh off filming The Beach in Thailand and back in L.A., Leo seemed eager to dive back into Hollywood's glitzy scene, throwing a lavish party.
Leon's image of Leo was still tied to Jack from Titanic and the media's "party animal" portrayal.
He knew Leo was in the thick of his romance with up-and-coming Gisele Bündchen.
The invite caught him off guard.
In a secluded, luxurious villa in Beverly Hills…
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