Evil MC's NTR Harem-Chapter 564 - Hotpot
"A new help?" Cate arched a brow, folding her arms as she sized up the woman before her. "What's your name, girl?"
Althea didn't flinch. If anything, her gaze remained cool and unbothered, a subtle challenge hidden beneath her poised demeanor.
"I'm Rose," she responded smoothly. "Do you have an appointment today?"
Cate scoffed.
"No, but I don't need one." She leaned in slightly, lowering her voice but making sure every word dripped with veiled warning.
"FYI, I'm your boss's fiancee. So don't get any ideas about seducing my man, girl. You wouldn't like me when I'm jealous. Got it?"
Althea's lips curved slightly—not quite a smirk, but not exactly neutral either. There was something in her eyes, something unreadable, and it only irked Cate further.
Without giving her the satisfaction of a response, Cate turned on her heel and strode past her, pushing open the door to Ross's office without so much as a knock.
But even as she entered, her pulse quickened.
Because what happened next… That was the part she dreaded the most.
The part that made her hesitate.
The scene she had been avoiding in her mind. She had a hunch that something was going to go something very wrong here.
She drew in a slow breath, steeling herself. Once she stepped through that door, things would only get more complicated.
The director called for a cut, and the film crew bustled into action, adjusting the lights and repositioning the cameras inside the office.
The air was thick with anticipation as last-minute tweaks were made—checking the angles, perfecting the shadows, ensuring every detail was just right.
Cate took a deep breath, smoothing down her dress as she mentally prepared herself.
This scene was important. It wasn't just another exchange between characters—it was a power struggle, a collision of egos wrapped in desire.
She needed to embody her character's presence, her control, her venomous charm. And more than that, she needed to keep herself in check.
"Quiet on set!"
The murmur of the crew faded.
"Action!"
The camera rolled, and the scene began.
The heavy office door swung open with force as Cate—no, Darcy—strutted inside.
Her movements were deliberate, her heels clicking sharply against the polished marble floor. Her expression was cold, but her eyes burned with unspoken accusations.
She took in the sight before her—Ross, lounging in his leather chair like a king, exuding effortless confidence as if he owned not just the room, but the entire world.
Darcy's lips curled into a sneer.
"You should have told me you hired a new bitch as your secretary, Jack," she said, her voice dripping with disdain. "I would've found someone prettier for you."
Ross barely spared her a glance. He leaned back, tapping his fingers against the armrest, his expression unreadable. If her words irritated him, he didn't show it.
"And what would be the point of that, Darcy?" His tone was smooth, lazy, almost amused. "I can find my own women just fine."
Darcy scoffed, stepping further into the room.
"I know." Her gaze flickered toward the door, where Althea—Rose—was no doubt listening from outside. The thought only fueled her next words.
"I just don't want you settling for secondhand goods from the streets."
She leaned in, her voice dropping to a sultry purr as she ran a manicured finger along the edge of his desk.
"After all," she murmured, "I've got premium pussy right here."
She didn't give him time to respond. With slow, deliberate confidence, she moved around the desk and bent down, pressing her lips against his in a bold, shameless kiss.
It was meant to be just another scripted moment—a demonstration of Darcy's dominance, her control over Ross. But the second their lips met, something shifted.
A spark.
A jolt of electricity that neither of them had anticipated.
Cate had kissed men before—on and off the screen. But this? This was different.
The heat. The raw intensity. The way Ross's lips moved against hers with just the right amount of pressure, just the right amount of dominance—it sent an unexpected shiver down her spine.
His scent, the faint trace of cologne mixed with something uniquely him, filled her senses, making it impossible to focus on anything else.
She had come into this scene intending to play Darcy, to assert herself, to prove that she held the upper hand.
But in this moment, she felt something she hadn't prepared for.
A loss of control.
Ross deepened the kiss, his hand moving to the small of her back, drawing her in just enough to make it feel real—too real.
Cate could feel the way his body radiated warmth, the slight roughness of his fingertips as they brushde against her.
The way he took control, not letting her dictate the pace like she had intended, made her stomach tighten.
For a moment, she forgot the cameras.
Forgot the script.
Forgot everything except the way he tasted.
Her heartbeat pounded against her ribs. This wasn't just acting anymore—this was something else entirely.
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And that terrified her.
"Hmmm…" Cate moaned softly into the kiss, her breath catching as their lips moved together.
She was supposed to take the lead in this scene—to guide the passion, dictate the rhythm, and dominate Ross the way Darcy would.
That was how the script had been written. That was how she had rehearsed it.
But the moment Ross's lips met hers, everything unraveled.
Her mind blanked. Her pulse quickened. Instead of taking control, she faltered, losing herself in the unexpected intensity of the kiss.
Ross, ever the professional, noticed immediately. Without missing a beat, he adjusted, deepening the kiss, tilting her chin slightly, and coaxing her into remembering her role.
His tongue flicked against hers—not just as part of the scene, but as a subtle, firm reminder. A lifeline to pull her back into the moment.
Cate barely managed to catch up before—
"Cut!"
Mr. Lancaster's sharp voice sliced through the air. The moment was shattered.
"Let's take five," the director added, exhaling heavily as he rubbed his temple.
