Monica lazily rested her head against his chest, her legs tangled with his under the water. Her fingers playfully traced the faint marks she’d left on his shoulder earlier, a smug smile tugging at the corner of her lips.
"You know," she said, stretching like a cat, "the moment I decided to step into Hollywood, I already gave up on that cheesy thing people call love."
Rex arched a brow. "Oh? That so?"
"Mhm," she hummed. "I knew from the beginning that it would demand everything. My time, my energy, my focus. . There wasn’t any space left for falling in love, romance, soulmates, or fairy tale endings."
She rolled her eyes."My only goal was to reach the top. Fame, power, recognition—that was all I wanted."
Then, with a wicked smirk, she added, "So, you don’t have to care too much about having other women or me finding out. Honestly, compared to what I’ve seen in Hollywood?" She scoffed. "Sleeping with a few women is noob-level drama."
Rex raised a brow. "That bad, huh?" he asked knowingly. Nᴇw ɴovel chaptᴇrs are published on novęlfire.net
Monica snorted. "Please. Ninety-nine percent of this industry is rotting from the inside. Everyone’s either high, drunk, or dead behind the eyes. Drugs, orgies, blackmail, that’s like, day one." Her voice held a weird mix of humor and disgust. "Beating, torturing, destroying people’s lives for fun, that’s level two. And let’s not even get into how low it really goes."
Rex stayed quiet, watching her, the smile on his lips slowly fading.
She kept her tone light, but her eyes flickered with something darker. "These people don’t even spare other men. Married, old, young... kids." She paused for a beat, then laughed bitterly. "And they all smile like saints on camera."
He touched her arm gently, but she waved him off with a half-shrug. "Anyway, point is... I’m not expecting you to be a saint, Rex. I know what this world is. I just want you to know I chose this path. Fame over fairy tales."
She turned her head slightly, her grin widening. "But don’t get it twisted... that doesn’t mean you’re off the hook." Her finger pressed against his chest. "Just because I’m not possessive doesn’t mean I’ll tolerate getting bored. You’re mine. You belong to me now. Got it?"
"Oh?" Rex chuckled. "Possessive much?"
"Damn right," she said, smug. "You think I’m gonna let go of a man this handsome, this loaded, this talented in bed?" She leaned closer, eyes narrowing teasingly.
She let her palm rest over his heart. " "And you’re gentle too. Honestly, it wouldn’t be a loss to keep someone like you in my life. Ugh. Disgusting. You’re basically the dream."
Rex smirked. "I thought you didn’t believe in dreams."
"I don’t," she said, flicking his forehead lightly. "But if I’m gonna be stuck with someone, might as well be someone like you. I’m not stupid."
She then made a mock-serious face. "Of course, being an actress means I can’t live the usual life. No clingy texts, no everyday dates. I’ll disappear for months on shoots, I’ll be surrounded by fake people in fake lives... and when I come back, I might be tired, or distant, or worse."
Rex was silent, just watching her as she spoke. His fingers moved slowly along her back, drawing invisible lines from her shoulder blades down to her waist. He didn’t interrupt. He just listened — really listened.
"Sounds lonely," he muttered softly.
She shrugged playfully. "Maybe. But that’s the price of ambition, babe." She poked his side. "Just don’t go letting those on-set vixens suck you dry while I’m gone."
He let out a sharp laugh. "Don’t worry," he said, leaning down so his lips brushed her ear, his breath warm against her skin. "Didn’t you experience it yourself last night?" His voice lowered to a murmur. "I don’t get drained... I do the draining."
Monica groaned, half-laughing, half-embarrassed, and shoved his shoulder with a dramatic roll of her eyes. "Ugh, shut up! You’re the worst."
But her shoulders were shaking from trying not to laugh, and when he pulled her back into his arms, she melted into him without resistance.
"Just saying," he whispered into her hair. "I think you bit me harder than they ever could."
She peeked up with a smug look. "Good. So, you’ll remember who you belong to."
"Possessive and violent," he said with a mock-sigh. "What a catch."
"Oh, you have no idea," she purred, eyes gleaming.
Afterward, the water had long gone lukewarm and their skin had begun to prune. With a reluctant sigh, they finally rose from the bathtub, limbs slow and heavy with satisfaction. Monica grabbed a fluffy white towel and threw one at Rex, who caught it with a grunt.
They dried each other lazily, laughter slipping in as hands wandered more than necessary. Rex rubbed her arms with slow, long strokes, while Monica sneakily brushed the towel against his stomach just to watch him twitch.
After slipping into matching hotel bathrobes, thick, plush, and far too big on her, they wandered into the adjoining room. Rex found a compact hairdryer and plugged it in while Monica perched at the vanity, already applying moisturizer with practiced finesse.
"Actors and actresses can’t afford to look human," she muttered, dabbing her face with upward strokes. "Hydration and moisturizers are our real co-stars. You think it’s all glam, but it’s twelve-hour shoots under hot lights, thick layers of foundation, reapplications between every take, and constant camera close-ups. If you don’t take care of your skin, it shows, and the camera shows everything. We age faster than most, but God forbid we look like it. Moisturizer isn’t vanity. It’s survival."
Rex raised a brow, watching her with amusement. "Sounds intense. I usually just splash my face with water and hope for the best."
Monica gave him a look so horrified it was almost theatrical. "You’re lucky you’re pretty, Rex. Otherwise, you’d be cancelled by every dermatologist on sight."
She turned back to the mirror, patting in the last of the serum with swift, practiced taps, her expression settling into something more focused. There was a strange calm to it, like someone slipping into armor before a battle.
Rex watched her in silence for a beat, his eyes tracing the curve of her jaw, the steadiness in her hands. Then, unable to help himself teasing, he smirked, leaning on the dresser nearby. "But I thought your co-star was me?"
"Mm, you’re more like my emotional support himbo," she teased, dabbing under her eyes.
He opened his mouth to reply, but she suddenly turned, scooped a dollop of moisturizer with two fingers, and smeared it across his cheek.
"Hey—!" he protested, pulling back instinctively, but she was already on the offensive, spreading serum across his face with both hands like a dedicated makeup artist on a deadline.
"You’ve got good skin, Rex. Let’s not ruin it with ego and laziness," she grinned, her tone teasing but her hands surprisingly gentle.
"You’re enjoying this way too much."
He sighed but let her work, lips twitching as she tapped and massaged, treating him like a reluctant client. Then, humming, she picked up the hairdryer, flicked it on, and began carefully drying his hair while he sat cross-legged on the edge of the bed.
The warm air blew between them, mixing with quiet giggles and soft touches. She tousled his damp strands with her fingers as if sculpting a masterpiece, occasionally tugging just to annoy him.
"I’m gonna look like a puffed-up poodle," he grumbled.
"Nope. You’ll look like a handsome devil who just got pampered by a goddess."
He rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
They laughed together, the moment cozy and oddly domestic, a fleeting pocket of normalcy tucked inside the chaos of their fast, chaotic lives.