Althea slid closer, her warm breath brushing against his ear.
Then, without warning, she wrapped her arms around him from behind, pressing herself against him.
Her soft curves molded against his back, and he could feel the teasing smile on her lips.
Ross tilted his head slightly.
"Perhaps," he said in a noncommittal tone. "If the right opportunity cos along, why not?"
Althea smirked, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his chest. "Oh, I'm sure you'll find a good reason soon."
She shifted, pressing a kiss to his neck, her touch light yet deliberate.
The conversation faded as the atmosphere between them shifted. The tension, the anticipation—it was undeniable.
And before long, the quiet night was filled with the sounds of love and pleasure, their celebration taking a far more intimate turn.
***
January 2032 arrived with a flood of offers from top directors, all eager to cast Ross in their films.
Now that the world had witnessed his acting prowess, they were willing to bet on him, hoping to replicate the unprecedented success of Chasing Mr. Trillionaire.
Scripts poured in from every major studio, with so producers offering record-breaking salaries just to secure his participation.
But Ross turned them all down.
It wasn't about the money—he had more than enough. It wasn't about the fa—he had already conquered both the sports and entertainnt industries.
No, the problem was simpler: none of the roles interested him. Most of the scripts felt uninspired, rehashed versions of the sa old Hollywood formulas.
Ross had no desire to play a forgettable character in a movie that would be forgotten within a year.
If he was going to act again, it had to be sothing exceptional, sothing that could challenge him in ways basketball never could.
Althea, on the other hand, was a different story. Unlike Ross, she embraced the opportunities that ca her way—but on her own terms.
She accepted select roles, but with one strict condition: no kissing scenes or anything remotely intimate.
It was a non-negotiable rule, one that might have limited other actresses' careers, but for Althea, it didn't matter.
She was, without question, the best actress of her generation.
Producers understood that having her in a film was a guaranteed success.
She didn't need steamy romance scenes to sell tickets—her presence alone was enough.
If she agreed to be in a movie, it would beco an instant box-office hit.
That was how powerful she had beco in the industry.
Ross, however, took his ti. He wasn't in a rush to return to acting.
In June, he led his team to another NBA championship, further centing his legacy as one of the greatest athletes of all ti.
The celebrations were extravagant, the dia coverage endless, and his na once again dominated headlines.
Yet, despite all the victories, sothing felt… missing.
One evening, as he sat in his study, he casually flipped through the mountain of film proposals cluttering his desk.
Page after page, script after script—none of them caught his attention. It was the sa routine, the sa predictable patterns.
He was just about to push everything aside when sothing unusual caught his eye.
A photograph.
It was a simple headshot, tucked between a pile of docunts. Ross picked it up and studied the image.
The girl in the photo was young—probably not a day older than eighteen.
Her beauty was striking, almost srizing. She had a fresh, innocent charm, the kind that turned heads without even trying.
Her delicate features, the way her eyes seed to hold a quiet allure—everything about her exuded an effortless appeal.
Ross leaned back in his chair, still staring at the photo.
Who was she? Was she an actress? A model? Was she being considered for a role in one of the movies he had been offered? He didn't know.
But one thing was certain.
He had to have her.
Sothing about her stirred an unfamiliar excitent within him, sothing he hadn't felt in a long ti.
It wasn't just about acting anymore—this was about her.
Without hesitation, he picked up his phone, dialing the number on the attached docunt.
And the rest was history.
Before the day was over, Hollywood was buzzing with the shocking news.
Every major dia outlet latched onto the story, eager to dissect every detail of Ross Oakley's latest move.
"Ross Oakley to Partner with Newbie Actress Nicole Fleming in a New Romance Movie!"
"Hollywood's Biggest Star Picks an Unknown Actress—Why?"
"What Is Ross Thinking? Fans Are Divided Over His Latest Project!"
Social dia exploded with speculation.
"How the hell did he pick that project?"
"I think I know. Hehehe."
"No way he chose this movie for the script. Let's be real—have you seen Nicole Fleming? She's stunning!"
"Maybe he actually sees sothing in her? Ross has a good eye for talent, after all."
"Talent? Please. He just wants an excuse to get close to her. We all know it."
Debates raged online, with fans and critics alike hatching their own theories.
So believed Ross saw untapped potential in Nicole, that he had discovered a rising star before anyone else had the chance.
Others weren't so convinced—they insisted this was nothing more than Ross indulging himself, picking the project for reasons far beyond just the quality of the script.
Within hours, Hollywood insiders were already analyzing every angle.
"Nicole Fleming? Never heard of her," one producer remarked. "But if Ross picked her, she must have sothing special."
"Or maybe Ross just wants sothing special," another joked, earning a round of laughter.
anwhile, reporters scrambled to dig up information on Nicole. Who was she? Where did she co from? Was she really talented, or was she just another pretty face lucky enough to catch Ross's attention?
Every detail of her life was suddenly under the microscope, her social dia accounts flooded with curious onlookers and skeptical critics.
But while the world gossiped, Ross couldn't have cared less.
Let them talk.
He had his reasons, and he had never been one to explain himself to anyone. Whatever the world thought, whatever rumors they spread, it didn't matter.
He had made his choice.
And he was more than happy to see it through to the end.
User Comments
0 comments from readers