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Victoria Ivory Pierce is a succesfull actress. When she's told her beloved studio has been sold she is upset. Especially when she finds out who bought it. Striker Stevens is a succesfull man, with a reputation of breaking girl's hearts.
Will they create a drama? Or are they in the mood for romance View table of contents...


Chapters:

1

Submitted:May 13, 2012    Reads: 11    Comments: 0    Likes: 0   


V.I.P

~sometimes those perfect moments don't need a script~

Victoria Peterson came rushing into his office, slamming the door furiously behind her. Her face was red with anger and her cheeks were smudged with mascara. "Is it true?" she demanded, hysterically, slamming her hands onto the wooden desk. He looked straight at her, his green eyes tired and wary. Victoria looked at her Father, Richard, her mouth formed a scowl. "Victoria," he said, stroking his daughter's auburn hair with his soft hands. "I didn't want to tell you." Victoria was pacing around the office, her black patent heels clicking along the floor. "Everybody knew, Daddy. You didn't have to tell me!" She snapped, furiously. Her Father looked at her sadly, he didn't want her to be hurt. He stood up, burying his hands in his suit pockets. "I know this studio was yours, but I got a good deal for it. And you can keep your job. You just have a new boss." Richard explained. He watched his daughter's ears suddenly prick up, her eyes flashed with excitement. "Who?" She asked. "Striker Stevens." Richard watched as Victoria's mouth formed a frown, and her silhouette left the building in an angry huff.

Victoria couldn't believe it. Her Father had sold the studio to an ass-hole, the biggest in the acting business. Striker Stevens owned Park View Studios downtown, and Victoria knew him too well. He played with her heart, told her that she was a special person, unlike any other person he'd seen. She could've worked for him before, but she threw the contract straight back at him. She felt betrayed, how could her Father do that to her? She rushed home, burying her arms in the fur coat she was wearing. When she made her way into the penthouse, nodding quickly at the doorman, she picked at the autumn leaves on her coat. She trailed upstairs, hastily opening the door. When it slammed behind her, she dropped down to the ground in tears. She didn't want anyone to see her, she didn't want anyone to talk to her. She ignored the phone, no matter who it was. Grateful for the warm and pleasant rush she received from a coffee, she sighed heavily. She settled into the camel leather couch and closed her eyes happily. All thoughts of Striker left her mind, instead she was at ease.

The morning crept in slowly, soaking the curtains with bright white shimmer. Victoria awoke, reluctant and groggy, and trailed towards the bathroom. Undressing quickly, she stepped straight into the shower. The hot, glistening water trickled down her body and she smiled. When she stepped out, she wrapped herself in a cool white towel. It was soft and clean, and she could smell the vanilla washing powder as she whipped her face. She looked straight through the wardrobe, in search of the perfect outfit for a day at the studio.

She never chose black before, but today, Victoria was mourning the loss of her much beloved studio. Now, she realised, she would have to bow down to Striker's orders- instead of backing away from them. When she stepped out, she pushed her way through the nosy paparazzi and made her way into the black limo. When she was inside, she sunk deeply into the leather seat, sipping at the wine in the glass. She knew drinking early in the morning was a bad idea, but she enjoyed the sweet tingling sensation it gave in her throat. When the limo stopped at the studios, Victoria hesitantly stepped out. She blinked at it. No changes to the outside. The sign was still there stating she was still stepping into Peterson Studios. Inside was no difference, either, apart from a fresher cast and better snacks on the table.

She entered the studio, heading straight towards her dressing room. The golden star was still hung on the door. She opened the door to see everything she expected. Cream couches in the corners, wardrobe in the back, huge mirror in the middle of the room. There was a script on the coffee table titled Romero and Julia. She rolled her eyes at the title. She laughed slightly to herself, Striker didn't seem the romantic type. When she flicked through the pages, she blinked. The words on the pages were words of a romantic genius, not a big shot director. Maybe, she thought, he hired a script writer. Somebody knocked on the door and she rushed towards it. She looked through the peep hole and saw his face. He had flowers in his hands and a huge smile on his face. She opened the door. "Good morning-" Victoria slammed the door straight in his face, a delighted smile on her face. She felt as though she had accomplished something by doing that. "Victoria!" she could hear him shouting. "Come on, I need to talk to you." Victoria grumbled, making her way to the door. Act like you're happy to see him, she told herself, just act. Victoria smiled at him. He handed her the flowers, which she happily put in a vase. "How do you like the script?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. Victoria picked it up from the desk and began reading. When she looked up she said "Ooh, I love it." He laughed, almost congratulating himself.

He planted himself on the couch and said "I'm glad you like the script. I thought you'd be perfect for the role of Julia." Victoria sipped her water casually, trying not to look into his eyes. She stood up, pacing around the dressing room. "And who's Romero?" She asked. Victoria hoped it would be one of the male models she saw wandering around the studio last week. "I am." Victoria spat the water out everywhere, almost choking when he told her. "Are you alright?" He asked, looking at her sickly pale face. Act like you're happy to see him, she reminded herself. "No!" she snapped, unhappily. "I am not alright! You can't waltz in here and become my boss just like that!" She shrieked. He stood up, backed away from her and made his way to the door. "How's about we start at ten 'o' clock?" he suggested. Victoria shot him a look and watched him walk away.

Before Victoria knew it, she was at the mirror being fused over by the make-up team. Her hair was pinned back and she looked like a princess. Except, she didn't feel like one, She was going to kiss a frog today. He stood at the door, wearing an extravagant grey suit. "Wow." He said, his lips barely parting as he spoke. She laughed at him. He was trying to flirt with her. Again. She rolled my eyes at him. "In case you didn't notice," She reminded him as they headed out. "I don't like you, and even though we play lovers. I will never love you." Victoria snapped at him. Victoria knew it was harsh, but she was only being truthful. Suddenly, the studio was desolate and she felt conscious. He had arranged this, so that they could be alone. He grabbed her hands, and said "Just the first scene. It'll look great. I promise." He sat her down on the fake rock prop and began reading:

Julia, my love for you is more than you can imagine. And whether your parents like it or not, we are going to run away and we will be in love. You are my forever

Suddenly, her hands felt shaky and hot and her face was a dreadful pink. She felt overcome with nerves and she couldn't form words in her mouth. He leant closely and then, to her utter astonishment, kissed her on the lips. She jumped up, pulling away from his gentle, sweet kiss. "I can't do this!" She shrieked. Striker jumped up, grasped her hands and said "It's only acting. Just pretend you love me, and then we can go back to hating each other backstage." Victoria smiled awkwardly at him as she walked away. That was the thing, she didn't want to pretend, she didn't have to pretend anymore.

The next morning she woke with the rehearsal playing in her mind like a video. Victoria imagined his face, so perfect and soft. His eyes are two beautiful green jewels and his curly black hair falls perfectly. Victoria shrugged those thoughts away and got ready. When she arrived at the studio, she began her pretending. "I read the script," She began, tossing the script into the bin. She looked straight into Striker's eyes and said "Would you like to know what I thought of it?" Showing him the ripped script in the bin. He clapped his hands, and laughed "Nice acting, Victoria. I was wondering if you'd like to go to dinner. Strictly research basis." Victoria laughed at him, clasping her hand to her mouth. "If it's only research, then yes. No dates." Victoria joked. The rest of the day trailed quickly away, and she had to resist temptation. You hate him, remember? Soon, Victoria arrived at the dinner. Her legs felt weak and she was excited. She looked down at her outfit: a simple peach dress and matching shoes. Her auburn hair was curled, with a slide in it. When she stepped in, she spotted him. He was wearing a white puffy shirt, black trousers and black shoes. He looked beautiful, Victoria bit her lip. "Research?" she asked, narrowing an eyebrow. "In the nicest restaurant in town?" He laughed. "So you've been here?" he asked. Victoria nodded. They both sat down, the chandelier lights casting a shadow on them. They ate their meals, awkwardly talking to each other. "I've got to be honest," Victoria sighed. "When you rejected me all those years ago, I hated you. Now, I guess it's different." Striker raised an eyebrow at her, and he smiled. "I knew you didn't hate me" he sighed, happily. They walked hand and hand outside and they parted. "Would you like to come in?" Victoria asked as they stopped at her house. He nodded. When they stepped inside, it felt quiet. With only the soft, silent music playing through the house they felt awkward. They sat on the couch, the scripts on the table. "Can we have another kiss? For real, no acting." She asked, looking into Striker's eyes. He looked at her, took both of her hands in his, and kissed her on the lips. He ran his fingers down her hair, and threw his jacket on the floor. She bit her lip as he unbuttoned his shirt and she kissed him. She pulled away, hot and breathless. "I'm sorry," she said. "I can't do this. I didn't want a relationship. Not with my boss." He had tears in his eyes, and so did she. She was reluctant to let him go, let him out into the rain. "Find a new Julia," she ordered. "It'll make your job easier, and it'll make mine easier, too." She shut the door behind her and fell to the floor in tears.





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