Woke Up As the A-List Movie Mogul's Contract Girlfriend

The luxurious party hall at Starlight Studios was bathed in dreamy light from crystal chandeliers as the wrap party for "Heart of Steel" was in full swing.

A group of suited investors clustered around the champagne tower, while several young actors in trendy brands stood by the craft beer bar.

I clutched my half-empty craft beer, awkwardly standing at the edge of the crowd.

Growing up in Detroit, Michigan, I'd only made it through UCLA's Drama program on a full scholarship. After graduation, if Maya hadn't brought me into Starlight Studios as a production assistant, I'd probably still be performing monologues to empty seats in some tiny theater somewhere.

"Another nepotism hire," came the whispered gossip from behind me. "Miss Herman's little sidekick, got in through connections."

"I heard she graduated from UCLA Drama, but ended up as just a production assistant."

"Well, it's only because Mr. Herman has a soft spot for his sister."

I gripped my glass tighter, knuckles turning white. Privilege acknowledged, I thought to myself, but I need to prove I'm not dead weight.

"Miss, need something stronger?" The bartender noticed my tension.

"Give me something strong," I downed my beer in one gulp. "I need liquid courage."

The bartender handed me a whiskey. I threw it back, the burning alcohol instantly igniting my nerves.

"Emma! Why are you hiding over here?" Maya glided over in her silver gown. "Come on, let me introduce you to some directors."

"I don't want to be your charity case," I shook my empty glass.

"Don't be ridiculous, you're my best friend." Maya frowned. "And you're a great actress. That Hamlet piece you did—even my brother said—"

"Your brother wouldn't know me from Adam," I signaled for another drink. "To him, I'm just some dispensable production assistant."

The alcohol was loosening my tongue and making my vision fuzzy.

"Emma, you're drinking too much," Maya looked at me with concern.

"I'm fine." I raised my glass. "Here's to the success of 'Heart of Steel'! Here's to the fine tradition of nepotism!"

Just then, a low chuckle came from the other end of the party hall. I followed the sound and saw him.

Ryan Herman was leaning against the bar, talking to some investors. His white shirt was casually unbuttoned at the collar with sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He was tall with broad shoulders, and when he spoke, he'd occasionally bite his lower lip—a gesture that was inexplicably sexy.

I watched him turn his profile and smile. His features were sharp—high cheekbones, deep-set eyes. What killed me was the way he held his drink—long fingers, defined knuckles.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself, "this man is way too illegal."

The alcohol triggered my occupational hazard. This was the kind of man born to be a leading man, radiating that dangerous charisma that made you want to get closer but not dare to.

"Emma?" Maya followed my gaze. "Are you staring at my brother?"

But I couldn't hear her anymore. In my drunk state, Ryan was exactly the type of character I'd been studying—the cold CEO, perfect exterior, complex interior. This was the perfect method acting research opportunity!

I swayed toward Ryan, my brain echoing my acting teacher's words: "Immerse yourself completely in the character's world, blur the line between performance and reality."

"Gentlemen, pardon the interruption." I suddenly appeared in front of Ryan. The investors looked at me with surprise.

Ryan turned around, his penetrating gaze falling on my face. "You are?"

"I'm conducting an acting study," I said seriously, "analyzing leading man characters in superhero films. You're the perfect research subject."

The investors exchanged glances. Ryan raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Your micro-expressions are so fascinating," I began circling him like I was appraising a work of art. "The angle of your jawline, the depth of your gaze, and this—"

I suddenly reached out to touch Ryan's chest.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Ryan stepped back in shock.

"Relax, I'm studying chemistry building in romantic subplots," I explained drunkenly. "Your breathing pattern is too mechanical. It should be more organic."

I grabbed Ryan's collar and yanked him toward me. Under the stunned gaze of the investors, I began my "immersive acting exercise."

"Body contact in fight scenes should be like this—" My hands roamed across Ryan's chest. "Then romantic tension build-up requires proper physical chemistry—"

His expensive shirt began to tear under my "research."

"Stop!" Ryan tried to push me away, but I was completely in character.

"Your kiss angle is totally wrong!" I corrected seriously, using my hands to position his face. "You need a 45-degree tilt to get proper lighting!"

I stood on my tiptoes and left a trail of marks on Ryan's neck.

"This breathing pattern is right," I stepped back satisfied. "Now your character is more convincing."

The entire corner fell into dead silence. The investors stared in shock at this absurd "acting class."

Ryan's white shirt was torn to shreds, his chest covered in red marks, his hair disheveled like he'd just been through an intense battle.

"I... I need to get cleaned up." He hurried away, leaving me standing alone.

"Wait!" I chased after him a few steps. "You haven't given me feedback yet! This is crucial for my method acting research!"

But Ryan had already disappeared into the crowd.

I blinked in confusion, the alcohol making my memory foggy. I only remembered conducting some kind of acting exercise, but as for what exactly I did...

"Emma!" Maya rushed over, her face pale. "What did you just do to my brother?!"

"Research... character... leading man..." I waved my hand groggily. "I'm going home. I have work tomorrow."

I swayed out of the party hall, completely oblivious to the shockwaves I'd left in my wake.

The next morning, harsh sunlight streamed through the blinds. I was jolted awake by my phone ringing frantically, my hangover making my head feel like it was about to explode.

"Who's calling this early..." I fumbled to answer. "Hello?"

"Emma! Thank God you finally picked up!" Maya's anxious voice came through the receiver. "What the hell did you do to my brother last night?!"

"What?" I sat up, trying to piece together fragments from last night. "I... I remember researching some character..."

"You don't remember?!" Maya's voice shot up an octave. "Emma, the entire studio is talking about you and my brother!"

"What are they saying?" My hangover suddenly cleared.

"He showed up at the office this morning covered in hickeys and scratch marks! Everyone's speculating about which A-list actress conquered the boss!"

I almost dropped my phone. "What?!"

"The gossip mill is running at full speed! Some people are saying it was that actress who just got an Oscar nomination, others suspect it was some method acting freak!"

"Oh shit," I held my head. "What the hell did I do last night?"

"My brother wants to see you," Maya's tone turned serious. "Right now, immediately, get to the office."

"He wants to see me?" My voice trembled. "Is he going to fire me? Sue me?"

"I don't know," Maya paused. "But judging from his expression... Emma, you better prepare yourself."

After the call ended, I sat on my bed, trying to piece together fragments of last night's memories. I remembered drinking a lot, seeing Ryan, saying something about research...

But what happened after that, I couldn't remember at all.

"Perfect," I laughed bitterly to myself. "I don't even know how I screwed myself over."

I rushed to wash up and get dressed, anxiety gnawing at me. From Maya's reaction, I'd obviously messed up something big. And with Ryan Herman—the golden producer I'd barely spoken to before.

Worse yet, now the entire company was spreading gossip about us.

I looked at my pale face in the mirror and took a deep breath. "Emma Blake, you really outdid yourself this time."

I had no idea whether I was walking into a termination notice, a lawsuit, or something even worse. But one thing was certain—my studio career might be ending right here.

And it was all because of my damn method acting occupational hazard.