Chapter 93
Ivan POV
My throat is sore.
Maybe I shouldn't have teased the man with the monster in his pants. But when have I ever learned my lesson? Probably never. I already know I'll do it again. And again. Apparently, it's not that I hated giving head—I just didn't like James that much. Or maybe it's the omega pheromones. Or maybe it's just Zander. The man makes sin feel like worship.
"Ready to listen to my favor now?" I say, leaning back against the table, watching Zander try to remember how to breathe.
His eyes are still glazed, lips parted, tie loose, shirt wrinkled.
"You could ask for my heart right now and I'd rip it out of my chest," he says, and I laugh.
Guess all those hours of practicing with Big Z paid off.
My ego? Currently soaring.
---
A week later, I find myself on set.
My favor was simple: let me see one specific scene from this upcoming revenge filled blockbuster. Zander had looked at me strangely when I asked. Then, like the menace he is, he not only arranged it but also bought partial stake in the production just to make sure I got a front-row view.
Of course, he went overboard. It wouldn't be Zander if he didn't.
I even got a cameo. One tiny scene. I play a nightlife worker—four lines, two smirks, and a dramatic hair flip. Basically, me.
I sit off to the side, bundled in a long coat, sipping something warm. The scene I came to see is finally happening.
Harry and Mason.
Their characters are dancing in the rain, a romantic montage of laughter, spinning umbrellas, soft music, and dripping wet clothes clinging to beautiful bodies. It's not just chemistry. It's... something else.
There are sparks.
Harry's eyes, which once looked like they held nothing but fear and exhaustion, are alight now. Alive. Glowing.
Dorian probably drained the light out of him. But here? In this scene, he looks like someone reborn.
Mason is effortless—smiling like Harry's laughter is his favorite sound in the world. The way they touch, the way they look at each other... If this is acting, then they deserve every award in existence.
And it's going to hurt.
This scene? It's set before everything goes to hell in the film's plot. It'll be used as a flashback later, when Mason's character is tearing the world apart in vengeance.
It makes it even more precious.
A warm hand wraps around my waist, fingers familiar as they slide beneath the coat.
"This is what you wanted to see?" Zander murmurs in my ear.
"Shh," I hush him, eyes never leaving the set.
He chuckles, low and indulgent.
But he doesn't pull away.
Instead, he tugs me closer, resting his chin on my shoulder, and we watch together. Quiet. Present.
The director calls for cut, stepping onto the set to say something to Harry and Mason. Probably small adjustments, because from where I'm sitting, that scene was flawless.
Makeup staff swarm them like bees—powdering, blotting, fluffing Mason's already-perfect hair. I sip my overpriced iced tea and lean back into Zander's side.
"You could have waited for the movie's final cut, you know," Zander says, sounding amused.
"No…" I murmur, eyes still locked on the set. "I wanted to see the magic happen. Raw. Unfiltered. Right in front of me."
"Uh huh," he hums, unconvinced.
I jab him in the ribs lightly and he lets out a chuckle, shifting his arm so it's snug around my waist again.
Then Harry catches my eye.
Our gazes meet for a second—and I smile, giving him a double thumbs-up like an overenthusiastic mom on Parent Observation Day. He presses his lips together, trying not to smile back, but the corner of his mouth curls upward anyway.
He's so cute.
Mason leans in to whisper something to him. Harry nods, cheeks slightly flushed. I swear if he doesn't kiss him soon I'll climb onto that set and force a confession scene myself.
"They've got chemistry," Zander murmurs into my ear.
For even my blokehead alpha to notice, that must mean it's palpable.
"I know, right? Like… ridiculous levels."
Zander presses a kiss to my temple. "You did good."
I grin at him smugly. I did push for Harry to get this role, with my super influential boyfriend's influence ofcourse.
He snorts and we settle into a comfortable silence, watching as the director calls for another take.
Lights.
Camera.
Action.
And just like that, the magic starts again.