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As the silence stretched between them, Genevieve could feel her resolve weakening. It was worse the longer she sat drinking in the sight of this achingly stunning creature. Genevieve wanted nothing more than to cross the room, take Eden in her arms, and pick up where they'd stopped the night before. But she knew she couldn't cross that line again.
"Miss Rowley," she said finally, her tone curt enough to make Eden flinch. "If you have actual questions about the script, I'll behappy to answer them. But if you're here for . . . other reasons, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave."
Eden's eyes widened, a flash of hurt crossing her features before she schooled them into a neutral expression. "I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I shouldn't have come. I'll go."
She turned to leave, her delicate hand already reaching for the doorknob. Genevieve felt a sudden, inexplicable surge of panic rise in her chest. She couldn't let her go, not like this. Before she could stop herself, she was speaking.
"Eden, wait."
The actress froze. Slowly, she turned, something akin to hope, perhaps, dawning in her eyes.
Genevieve took a deep breath, barely believing she was going to broach this subject. "Why are you really here?"
Eden's shoulders slumped, the pretence falling away. "I . . . I just wanted to see you," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't stop thinking about . . . about last night."
And there it was, out in the open. The spotlit elephant in the room, finally acknowledged. Genevieve felt a curious mix of relief and terror wash over her. There was no going back now.
"Eden," she began, not entirely sure what she was going to say next. But before she could continue, Eden was speaking again, the words tumbling out of her in a rush.
"I know it's unprofessional. I would never have planned it in a million years. But now . . . now I can’t seem to think about anything else."
Genevieve didn’t answer immediately, unable to brush off Eden's words, but equally unable to assure the gorgeous actress that she’d also been affected by their unexpected tryst. Genevieve watched as Eden took a tentative step toward her, then another, closing the distance between them.
"Please," Eden said coyly, now close enough that Genevieve could see the flecks of darker blue in her eyes. "Say something. I’m kinda dying over here."
Genevieve fought hard not to crumble as she gazed into Eden's expectant eyes. The young woman’s words hung in the air between them, a challenge and an invitation all at once. Genevieve's mind raced, searching for the right response. Something that would maintain her stoic authority while being honest about the undeniable pull she felt toward Eden.
Genevieve found she couldn’t bring herself to lie to that angelic face. "Eden," she began, her voice low and measured. "What happened last night . . . I know I was the one who crossed the line, but it can't happen again. You must understand that."
Even as the words left her mouth, Genevieve took an unconscious step back, as if physical distance could somehow quell the desire that threatened to overwhelm her. She watched as a flicker of disappointment crossed Eden's face, quickly replaced by a fierce gleam in those mesmerizing blue eyes. If Genevieve wasn’t mistaken, the actress seemed to be channelling a little more of Beatrice’s fire in her own demeanour with each passing day.
"But why not?" Eden pressed, closing the gap Genevieve had created. "I know you want this. I can see it in the way you look at me. No one’s ever looked at me like that."
The closeness of Eden's body sent a jolt through Genevieve. It took every ounce of willpower she possessed not to reach out and touch her. Instead, Genevieve forced herself to focus on the practical concerns that had been plaguing her since their unexpected kiss. "This production is too important," she said, her tone firmer now. "We can't risk compromising it because of . . . of a momentary lapse in judgment."
Eden's eyebrows rose at that, a hint of disbelief mixing with the determination. "Is that all it was? A lapse in judgment?"
Genevieve sighed, running a hand through her hair. "That's not what I meant. But you have to see how complicated this could make things. The success of this play has to come first. It's too important for both of our careers."
She turned away then, needing a moment to collect herself. She busied her hands with the papers on her desk, shuffling them aimlessly as she tried to regain her composure. "We need to forget it happened," Genevieve said, her back still to Eden. "For the sake of the production and for the sake of our working relationship. It's for the best."
The silence that followed her words was deafening. For a moment, Genevieve thought perhaps Eden had accepted her decision and was quietly backing out of the office. But then she felt a gentle touch on her arm, and her body responded before her mind could catch up, turning toward Eden as if drawn by an invisible force.
"What if . . . what if exploring this could actually help my performance?"
Genevieve fought back a smirk at that, intrigued to see where Eden would go with the thought. "I'm not sure I follow."
Eden's hand remained on the director’s arm, her thumb tracing small circles that sent tingles across her skin. It felt like every nerve in her body had woken up, just from the simplest contact.
"Beatrice has all these hidden desires, this inner conflict she's struggling with. Maybe . . . maybe by exploring my own hidden desires, I could tap into that part of her more authentically."
The suggestion hung between them, laden with possibility. Genevieve couldn't help but laugh then, a surprised chuckle bursting from her chest at Eden’s boldness. "That's quite a creative argument, Miss Rowley," she said, meeting Eden's gaze directly again and trying not to let it hypnotise her into doing something she might regret.
Eden's lips quirked into a small smile. "I learned from the best. You always say we should use our personal experiences to inform our performances."
Genevieve shook her head, marvelling at the young actress's audacity. She moved to perch on the edge of her desk, attempting to appear relaxed even as her mind raced with all that Eden was suggesting.
"Let me be clear," she said, her voice taking on the no-room-for-debate tone she usually reserved for the rehearsal room. "My first priority - my only priority - is moulding you into the best actress you can be. Into the Beatrice that will make this production a success."
