I am Hollywood

[Chapter 1113: Unbreakable]

Back then, the bite had indeed been extremely fierce. More than half a month passed, and the scar on Eric's arm still bore a layer of scabs.

Under the soft yellow lights by the tennis court, Carmen Cass looked down at the bite mark on Eric's arm, and she felt a pang of guilt swell within her. 

She cautiously stole a glance at him, relieved to find he wasn't staring back. With her gaze returning, her slender finger gently touched the scar. After hesitating for a moment, she whispered, "The scar should heal."

"I'm not planning to treat it," Eric said with a smile, shaking his head. "I remember someone saying that real men should have a few scars."

If it had been anyone else saying this, she definitely would have shot back a sarcastic remark about how a man was nothing to be proud of when he was bitten by a woman. Yet now, hearing him say this, she felt a flutter of anxiety.

If he chose not to remove the scar from his arm, then it would be difficult for her to sever this connection between them.

She couldn't help but replay the events of the past weeks. From Gisele Bundchen bullying her, to their encounter at the Long Island racetrack, and then the twists and turns that followed, including the terrifying incident of her mother's kidnapping during Paris Fashion Week.

Although their interactions had been brief and undeniably awkward, she felt as though this man had somehow submerged himself entirely into her life, like the very air she breathed. It was as if, without realizing it, she had developed an indescribable dependence on him. When she heard about her mother's abduction, the first figure that flashed through her mind was that of the man she had bitten so hard.

People who knew her thought she was too stubborn. But only she understood that she had never truly been a strong girl. Growing up in an unstable environment after her parents divorced, she had lived in an atmosphere devoid of security all her life.

The fashion world was filled with girls who were less financially prudent than most Westerners; some carefree ladies would spend their future earnings at the blink of an eye. But because of her deep-seated insecurity, she had always saved money and had often been teased by friends for being a miser.

However, after that day, the profound insecurity that had accumulated within her since childhood seldom bothered her.

Perhaps, not severing this bond with him didn't seem so bad after all.

After zoning out for a while, she realized she was still holding on to the man's arm, and he seemed to have no intention of pulling away. Finally, after a moment of hesitation, she carefully rewrapped the bandage she had just untied, helped him roll down his sleeve, and decided to let him keep his arm resting on her knee.

But once she adjusted his sleeve, the man withdrew his arm.

"By the way, although pretty girls don't usually eat, you must be hungry, right?"

She instinctively nodded.

Suddenly, she remembered that familiar saying. The little girl named Emma had said it: "Daddy says pretty girls don't eat."

Daddy?!

Her impression of Emma was excellent; she believed that Emma's father must be a really interesting person. Later, when she attacked Eric Williams, she felt very guilty about possibly impacting that family. But now, she suddenly connected the dots.

So he was the interesting person she had always thought about.

Daddy, daughter, daddy, daughter.

Although in recent days, due to her focus on him, she had seen some gossip about him already having a child, confirming it now stirred a complexity of emotions within her.

Well, although she felt she didn't have any right to feel this way, she couldn't help but feel a little jealous.

Eric, however, had no clue about her thoughts. He stood up and said, "Let's go get something to eat. I'm feeling a bit hungry too."

She stood mechanically, following Eric toward the villa.

Leaving the tennis court and walking along the estate's path, she hesitated before finally asking, "Emma, is she your daughter?"

"Yeah," Eric replied, puzzled by the sudden question but nodding. "But technically, she's my adopted daughter. By the way, you still need to formally apologize to Emma next time you meet; she was pretty scared after your last encounter."

She simply responded with an "uh-huh," but her mind suddenly felt lighter.

Though she still had a few lingering shadows of that racetrack, she was oddly in no mood to inquire further, adopting an ostrich-like attitude.

As they walked into the cliffside shell villa, it was indeed large, resembling a palace.

But with only the two of them inside during the late night, it inevitably felt a bit empty, even desolate.

Yet he seemed to relish this atmosphere, so she quickly adapted to it.

When they reached the kitchen and started preparing a simple late-night snack, she awkwardly helped him. Of course, she knew how to do house chores, but out of a woman's instinct, she felt it was more appropriate to act a bit clumsy.

After making the late-night meal, they didn't eat in the dining room but set their dishes down at a small bar in the kitchen corner. Watching him pour a cup of warm milk for her, she quickly took a small sip and noticed the smile playing on his lips, making her feel slightly embarrassed.

Yet a warm feeling blossomed within her.

...

Eric tidied up the kitchen a bit before sitting down next to her, picked up a piece of bread, and spread some jam on it. He initiated a conversation, asking, "What have you been busy with lately?"

Carmen shook her head. "Fashion Week just ended, so everyone's taking a break. But Paul is helping me negotiate an endorsement deal."

"Is that so? I'll be staying in Los Angeles for a while, and I'll be going to New York for Easter. Maybe I can take you back with me then."

Although she had been somewhat prepared and had no real resistance, hearing Eric say that still made Carmen's cheeks flush slightly, and she shyly looked away.

Eric then asked, "What endorsement is Paul negotiating for you? I might be able to help."

"It's for a Dior perfume; we're basically close to finalizing."

"Oh, which line?"

"It's a new line," Carmen explained. "They said it's called 'J'adore.'"

Eric nodded but unexpectedly seemed to recall something, turning to study her for a moment and chuckling. "What a coincidence."

Dior's J'adore previously had a well-known spokesperson, Charlize Theron. But Carmen's mention reminded Eric of a very glamorous J'adore golden goddess poster. Though many years had passed, the memories from his past life had blurred, yet upon careful comparison, the woman in the poster closely resembled Carmen Cass beside him. If his guess was correct, she could very well be Dior's first spokesperson for J'adore.

Of course, Carmen couldn't read Eric's mind and looked at him in confusion.

"Hey, why don't you ask Paul to send over some information on J'adore tomorrow?" Eric, without explanation, smiled and added, "I could use my experience as a director and help you with the commercials."

Although she didn't understand why he suddenly seemed so enthusiastic, Carmen nodded in agreement.

...

After finishing their late-night meal, it was already 1 AM.

They cleaned up the dishes and left the kitchen, the atmosphere inevitably turning flirtatious once more.

Feeling her heart racing, Carmen obediently followed Eric to the luxurious round bedroom at the highest point of the shell villa. The man helped her prepare some temporary toiletries and then ushered her into the bathroom.

After an undetermined amount of time, she finally emerged from the bathroom, donned in a large bathrobe, her freshly washed hair fully dried.

Eric lounged against the headboard, flipping through a book that she couldn't tell the title of. When he saw her, he patted the space beside him.

Carmen walked over, carefully lifted the covers, and climbed onto the large bed. Hesitating for a moment, she eventually removed her bathrobe, revealing her form-fitting bra and panties, quietly slipping under the blankets.

Eric watched her actions and chuckled, placing his book down, turning off the bedroom lights, and lying down next to her.

The sudden darkness relaxed her a bit, but she still felt slightly tense at the movement beside her.

One of his arms reached over and wrapped around her waist, pulling her gently closer. She followed his lead and leaned back until her back pressed against his chest.

"Sleep now; we have to wake up early tomorrow for work. Being a man is tough."

As they leaned together, she found herself strangely unbothered by the man's presence behind her. In fact, she even took a discreet sniff to catch the scent of the shower gel he used.

Hearing him say that, her body involuntarily relaxed.

But after a moment, that hand began to mischievously undo her bra.

Thinking he was indeed going to do something inappropriate, she slightly pouted, but she didn't resist and even found herself helping him.

She felt him discard the bra, then there was quietude.

Of course, it wasn't entirely quiet. That hand took the place of the bra.

After another moment passed without further motion, her slightly rapid breathing began to even out.

Yet, she couldn't help but have some thoughts.

Would he think she was too small?

As if sensing her thoughts, his voice resonated in her ear. "Stop overthinking, just sleep."

In the darkness, her face flushed.

Biting her lip, perhaps to mask her earlier nervousness, she spoke with a hint of discontent, "Your hand?"

That hand deftly shifted down a bit in understanding.

He must think I'm too small.

She wrinkled her nose, inexplicably producing that thought.

The man behind her soon whispered, "You're too thin."

She paused for a moment, quietly defending herself, "If I gain weight, I won't be able to find work."

"Hmm," he reassured, patting her waist, "That won't happen anymore."

Hearing those words, she froze a little, a warmth blossoming within her.

So she reached out and gently pressed her hand against his hand resting on her waist.

His large hand seemed unaccustomed to this passive position; it quickly flipped over, switching hands and enveloping her small hand in his palm.

Feeling the warmth from his palm, she couldn't help but smile and completely relaxed, drifting off to sleep.

*****

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