Master of his heart (Brielle and Max)

The warm breath tickled Brielle's ear, and she instinctively flinched, watching as Keiran emerged from a crowd of models, a severed mannequin limb in his hand. "You looking for me to act?"

Brielle snapped back to reality, nodding eagerly as she trailed behind him.

"Yes, King Keiran, you haven't taken any roles this year. I was wondering if Stellar Stage Entertainment might have the honor."

The room was dimly lit, making it hard for her to see Keiran clearly, though she had streamed several of his movies. Known for his award-winning performances and as the highest-paid actor in the industry, his looks and charisma were legendary. Following him to the first floor, she heard him say, "I refuse."

Brielle placed the cake she had bought on the table and, through the light from the doorway, finally got a good look at him.

"Can I ask why?"

Keiran didn't smoke or drink, but he had a notorious sweet tooth. His features were striking, and he gave Brielle a once-over, clearly not recognizing her.

"You, the lead actress?"Belonging © NôvelDram/a.Org.

His tone was full of doubt. Before Brielle could respond, he leaned back, shaking his head critically.

"Not tall enough, not pretty enough, no right vibe, and too flat-chested. If I picked you, the box office would flop."

Brielle had faced plenty of mockery before, but no one had ever insulted her looks so bluntly. Keiran, accustomed to the beauties of showbiz, was especially picky.

He even made a pinching gesture in the air. "And a bit too broad in the waist. I've read the script; there's a bedroom scene with me. I don't want you taking advantage of me." Brielle felt a vein throb on her forehead but kept her face neutral.

"Not with me, obviously. Stellar Stage Entertainment has many talents. Any actress you find suitable can take the lead."

Keiran had already unwrapped the cake, eating it while managing to throw shade-something only he could pull off. He ate gracefully, but after a few bites, he pushed the cake aside. "Go find someone else. The door's over there. I won't see you out."

Brielle raised an eyebrow, their conversation barely started. Just as she was about to press on, Keiran's voice dripped with sarcasm.

"I don't usually refuse twice. If you don't leave now, I'll have someone escort you out."

It had been a long time since Brielle had been this infuriated. She stood up and walked over to him. Right in front of his eyes, she rearranged the partially eaten cake, tied a neat bow on it, and took out her paymen

code.

"The cake costs two hundred and fifty dollars. Please settle the bill."

Keiran froze, clearly perplexed. Brielle gave him a smile.

"I don't recall saying the cake was a gift. I just set it down for a moment. I still need to take it back with me."

To her surprise, Keiran actually

pulled out his phone and transferred

two hundred and fifty dollars. He recognized the packaging; it was from a bakery owned by residents in the villa area, where a small

piece

like this normally cost five hundred.

"Isn't it supposed to be five hundred?"

"The extra two hundred and fifty is on me. Goodbye, King Keiran."

Keiran sat there, watching as she picked up the cake and left with a swift grace. For some reason, he felt as though he'd been insulted.

When Brielle got back to her car with the cake, she rubbed her temples with a hint of regret. If she couldn't secure Keiran, the director might not want to take on the script.

She sighed, about to call Donny to

see if there were any other directors he could recommend, when she realized she'd left her bag back at Keiran's villa. She had no choice but

to return to retrieve it.

Keiran was still lounging on the couch, seemingly in a better mood as he flipped through the channels on the TV.

Brielle reached for her purse on the coffee table, ready to leave, when she heard him ask, "Who are you? What are you doing in my house?"