Chapter 16

The insistent buzz of my phone sliced through the haze of sleep, dragging me back to reality. Disoriented, I squinted at the screen, the harsh light a stark contrast to the tangled sheets. Quinton was already gone, the imprint of his absence a tangible weight on the mattress. It was a relief but it also made my stomach turn.
A glance at the clock confirmed my worst fears. It was late. Much later than I'd intended to sleep in. I fumbled to answer the call.
"Yvonne? It's Sebastian's assistant," came the familiar voice through the receiver. "We need you back on set for some reshoots. Seems there were some technical difficulties yesterday."
Relief washed over me, so intense it almost felt like disappointment. It was a welcome distraction for the ill feeling I had from last night. If they called it technical difficulties, I cared.
"I'll be there in an hour," I promised, forcing a cheerful tone into my voice. The assistant rattled off some details about the reshoot, then hung up.
With a sigh, I threw back the covers. The events of last night felt like a dream, a surreal mix of confusion and misplaced trust. Looking around the now-empty apartment, a strange sense of loneliness settled over me.
He'd... just left. No message. He didn't even text me. There wasn't even a sign that he'd been there, other than the fact that the door was unlocked. I guess it was alright that he didn't take my keys but still...
It felt just as transactional as fucking Sebastian for a role, but worse. At least Sebastian had made sure I got home safely...
And my clothes were still at Quinton's place. My stomach jolted. Was he planning to come back with my laundry? I didn't want to be here if that was the case. What would I even say to him? The clothes I'd washed weren't that important.
I showered quickly, the cool water doing little to dispel the lingering heat of our encounter. Slipping into a pair of skinny jeans and a form-fitting top, I cast a critical glance in the mirror. The telltale signs of last night's activities – slightly swollen lips, a faint dusting of rose on my cheeks – were a stark reminder of what happened and the fact that I didn't know what to think about it.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I grabbed my bag and headed out the door. I tried to lock the door and found my key missing.
I winced. Quinton must have taken it, then why leave my door unlocked?
It didn't matter. There wasn't anything to steal in there anyway.
The bustling city greeted me with its usual chaotic symphony of honking horns and hurried footsteps. A taxi ride later, I found myself back in the familiar, albeit slightly intimidating, confines of the company's headquarters.
The atmosphere on set was tense. The director smiled at me, but it felt hollow and mocking.
The hustled me into the costume. I didn't even consciously hear what we were reshooting, and it didn't matter to me. It didn't matter to me who was fucking me. The day passed in a blur.
Thinking about it, it felt more like the reshoot was an excuse, a way for Sebastian to keep me close and under control. Was he the one I was shooting with? I couldn't remember. No. It had been someone else. They'd been rougher than Sebastian, but not as rough as Zane had been. Maybe Quinton had something to do with it. I didn't know. Zane wasn't here, so it didn't feel like it was a real reshoot anyway.

Hours later, the weight of the day settled on my shoulders as I exited headquarters. The reshoot had been grueling, the tension on set thick enough to cut with a knife. Sebastian's veiled threats and the constant feeling of being watched had left me drained. Retail therapy, I decided, was the order of the day.
Wandering down a bustling street, I browsed store windows, allowing the mindless act of shopping to lull me into a state of temporary normalcy. As I passed a lingerie boutique, a flash of movement caught my eye. A woman, impeccably dressed and heavily made-up, stood at the entrance, beckoning me inside with a practiced smile.
Hesitantly, I stepped through the doorway, the tinkling of bells announcing my arrival. The air inside was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and silk. But before I could take in the luxurious surroundings, another figure materialized before me.
A tall man, dressed entirely in black, stood at the end of a plush runway. The most striking feature, however, was the mask he wore. It was a giant rabbit head, crafted from what appeared to be fluffy white rabbit. It obscured his entire face, leaving only two large eye holes and a mesh panel over the mouth for breathing. The sight was both bizarre and oddly endearing.
Despite the absurdity of the situation, I couldn't help but be drawn toward the man. His gaze felt gentle, harmless. There was a gentleness in his demeanor, a surprising kindness radiating from his masked figure. My mind conjured an image of a handsome face hidden beneath the rabbit mask, a charming smile playing on his lips.
Taking a step closer, I found myself inexplicably drawn to him. He extended a gloved hand towards me, and before I could fully register my surprise, he gently placed it over my eyes, plunging me into darkness.
A soft chuckle tickled my ear, followed by a sensation that sent a jolt through me – a light kiss placed on the back of my hand. The touch was brief, yet somehow intimate, laced with a playful reverence. My heart hammered a frantic tattoo against my ribs, a bizarre mix of confusion and a strange sense of excitement.
I knew this person, I was almost sure of it.
"Do I know you?" I blurted out, the words tumbling over each other.
The man in the rabbit mask remained silent, but a slight nod came from him soon after. That made me feel a bit better, but he didn't explain how.