The room exhaled, leaving only Miguel, Dante Cole and Naya
Naya stepped back, heart still racing, palms slightly damp. Her eyes searched Cole's one last time, but he had already turned, speaking quietly to a crew member.
And across the room, Dante stood with arms crossed, eyes fixed on them. Then—slowly, deliberately—he clapped.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Heads turned. A few chuckled. But Dante wasn't mocking. His expression was unreadable—part impressed, part… something else. Maybe surprised. Maybe curious.
"That," he said, voice carrying just enough to be heard over the soft shuffle of the crew wrapping up, "was amazing."
Naya stiffened.
He stepped closer now, only a few strides, until the distance between them was polite but pointed.
"You two have real chemistry," he said. Calm. Measured. Not a grin in sight. "Felt like we were watching something we weren't supposed to see."
Naya's fingers curled slightly around the fabric at her side. "Thanks," she said, voice smooth but guarded.
Dante tilted his head, still watching her. Not invasive. Just… observant.
Naya offered a faint smile, the weight of Dante's gaze still lingering. "Excuse me," she said softly, turning before anyone could stop her.
She moved quickly, her steps sharp against the concrete floor, trying not to look like she was fleeing.
Naya stepped out, her heart still pounding. A crew member caught her eye and gave a polite nod.
"Hey, Naya," a receptionist voice called softly from across the hallway."Your office is just down the hall, second door on the left. Take a breather there."
She nodded, grateful for the reprieve.
The hallway was quiet, the muffled sounds of wrapping up drifting behind her. Inside the small office, Naya closed the door and leaned back against it, letting out a slow breath.