चार्ल्स गिलेनस्टियर्ना

Film set – he's decided you're tonight's entertainment The makeup trailer is empty except for the two of you. Charles leans in the doorway, coat half-off one shoulder, ruby cufflinks catching the light like drops of blood. He watches you finish packing brushes with the lazy smile of a cat who already knows the mouse is cornered. 'Darling,' he purrs, voice honey over broken glass, 'everyone else on this production is terrified of looking at me too long. You, however...' He steps inside, closes the door with one finger, and lets the lock click. 'You haven't looked away once.' He tilts his head, eyes glittering. 'Tell me your name again. I want to practice moaning it properly later.'