That was why he’d started reading the unfiltered scripts. Ones that didn’t beg for attention.
Ones like Miss H’s — raw, survival and strange and a little angry, like someone had written it with one hand clenched.
Jake had known, reading it, that the writer was probably young. Female, smart, maybe too smart for her own good.
He’d backed the film without knowing her face. Just a monogram on a producer’s deck. No LinkedIn, no flashy credits.
People thought he was reckless for doing it. That it was indulgent; a billionaire’s boredom.
Let them think what they wanted, he didn’t have time to explain his reasons to everyone.
He watched Heather from the corner of his eye.
She looked smaller now than she had when the elevator first stopped.
She hadn’t said much since his confession. Just holding his coat a little tighter around her... maybe she was trying to decide if she could stand him yet.
Jake didn’t blame her. The coffee thing was his fault, he’d come in too fast, hadn’t seen the tray. Her dress had taken the hit, and he’d offered to help — which only made it worse.
She’d looked at him like he was the gum stuck to her Louboutins. He almost laughed at her facial expression then; but that must have fueled her anger more.
He shifted slightly, careful not to make too much noise.
She was still looking down, but her brows were drawn together, and he knew she was thinking.
But he did not ask what about.
She would ask when she was ready.
If she ever wanted to know more — about the funding, the chemo, the nights when he couldn’t sleep and so he watched every single word of her performance three times — she could ask.
Especially not when something was this delicate.
"Sorry. That was... probably too much."
"It wasn’t," she said quickly.
Her voice came out lower than she expected, and she hated how it almost cracked. "It wasn’t too much. It’s just..."
Jake gave her a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Hard to know what to say, right?"
They both fell silent again, but it wasn’t awkward now. It was more just... quiet.
It was then she started to feel the cold again, not sudden, but creeping. The air had shifted ever so slightly and was now slowly seeping into her clothes.
Her arms had gone still under his coat. She pulled it closer again, but her hands didn’t feel warm anymore.
Jake rubbed his palms together slowly. "It’s starting to feel like a freezer in here."
She gave tired half-smiled, because she was afraid her face will freeze if she doesn’t move it.
He smiled again, this time with a little more life in it. "What a day."
"Yeah, definitely memorable."
"Not exactly how I imagined talking to you," he added.
That made her glance over. "You imagined talking to me?"
"Only every time Miss H released something," he said lightly, but his voice wasn’t flirty.
A groan of metal interrupted the conversation. Then a sharper sound of steel scraping against steel — followed by a parting, causing light to pour through the widened crack.
Heather blinked at it, her body instinctively curled tighter into the coat Jake had given her.
The cold had been steady, creeping deeper into her limbs, but she’d grown quiet under it. Plus, Jakes warmth made the cold feel less real and she felt almost numb.
The warmth of his skin was the only thing keeping her anchored, that and the calm in Jake’s voice when he had spoken earlier. He hadn’t said much since, just sat nearby.
The doors inched open.
And then she saw Caius.
He stood on the other side of the metal threshold, crowbar in hand, dressed like the world hadn’t frozen over while they’d been trapped inside.
There were two guards behind him, but neither moved. He was the only one doing the movements.
For a moment, Heather couldn’t read her own thoughts. There was relief — naturally — but tangled up in it was frustration.
And confusion with something else that settled low in her chest.
Heather stared back at him in surprised — not in the swooning way he sometimes hoped for, she was just startled.
Because she’d forgotten he existed the entire time she was trapped.
His eyes swept across her, pausing at the coat around her shoulders, and then slid to Jake without subtlety. The change in his gaze was quiet but obvious.
She didn’t miss that he didn’t ask if she was okay or offer a hand right away.
He braced himself instead, widening the gap just enough, waiting for her to climb up.
As if she wasn’t chilled to the bone, or nothing about this moment required softness.
Jake turned to her and said in a calm and gentle voice. "Go ahead. I’ll come after."
Heather hesitated because she didn’t want to leave him alone in there — but it made sense. He’d help her from below if she needed it.
Still, she moved slowly and carefully, her legs trembling from the cold and stiffness, and her hands reached for the edge. It was higher than it looked.
Jake shifted behind her. "Careful," he murmured.
She nodded, bracing herself. Her fingers caught the ledge just fine, but when she pushed herself upward, her heel slipped against the cold metal.
A short gasp escaped her lips as her balance shifted, and Caius gave her his hand.
He gripped her wrist and yanked her upward, his other hand catched her waist. The motion was forceful, not concerned, but possessive.
But she noticed — he didn’t even glance at Jake. Did not offer to help him, he just turned to her, checking her quickly.
"You’re freezing," Caius muttered while pulling off his jacket.
Once she was steady, she turned to glance back at Jake, who was still crouched, inspecting the ledge as though measuring its height. He did not look in a rush.