𝙮𝙤𝙪𝙧𝙨 - 𝚛𝚊𝚖𝚒 𝚖𝚊𝚕𝚎𝚔

great taste in women.

We've been shooting for the movie for a few hours now and my head is in the clouds. All I can think about is our boat trip in a few hours. Some scenes were in the port of Oslo, so I could feel a bit of anxiety. Rami is shooting some scenes with the extras from his core. I'm exchanging messages with Garrett, who stayed in London.

me: it was magical -- he gave me a wonderful gold necklace and he got us a boat trip to this afternoon

gat: enjoy love, really enjoy it because in the beginning, it's all a total bliss..... then you'll be married for seven years in pure boredom

me: no one is talking about marriage lol

A voice in the distance shouts instructions to us, and in one of those instructions, Cary speaks my name, making me get up from my chair. I walk to the yacht moored near the pier, where some scenes are being recorded. My makeup today needed some special effects, because in this scene I was beaten by some goons, making me return to the villain's arms.

"Let's shoot the scene that Harriett goes back to the yacht" he says entering the cabin "Rami will be waiting here," he says, taking Rami's arm and putting it in the designated place, "and Dominique will come in all bloody, looking for comfort in the maître's arms.

He walks out of the cabin and we all get positioned. The men in the cameras also position themselves, always pressing a few buttons before standing still for a few minutes.

"Ready? Action!" The director shouts.

Harriett walks into the yacht, euphoric and painful, with bruises and cuts through my face. She just needs to have the courage to tell the maître that she has failed with her mission. I walk, defeated. The maître, standing next to connected computers, turns to see me. With sunglasses, I can't see his expression, but his lips are pressed against each other in anger.

"I have failed you', I say, ashamed. A drop of blood falls on the white floor of the cabin. He takes off his glasses and with one movement of his hand, everyone around us goes down the stairs beside me.

He walks slowly, holding each step to the ground. My eyes begin to tingle, tears fighting not to roll down my cheeks.

His body's a few inches from mine. His breathing is controlled, but too strong. His eyes tremble a little, but trapped in mine, without even blinking. His hand slowly rises, his fingers touch the corner of my mouth softly. He touches the hematoma to my jaw and finally to the cut on my temple. His finger burns my skin by touching my bruises. I think he will kiss me now and say everything is okay.

At his fingertips, my still fresh blood colors his pale hand. He sucks them without breaking eye contact. When I see his fingers clean when I take them out of his mouth, we both look at his hand, while the maître seems to taste something.

With a sudden movement, he slaps me in the face (in fact, only acting, because Ana is behind the camera, she who beats a single palm, to simulate the sound of a slap... Hollywood stuff!). With the strength, I throw myself on the ground.

My body collides with the ground and right now, I feel vulnerable. The adrenaline is running in my veins and with the intensity of the scene, all I want is to cry. You can't cry. I raise my face, my hair covering my eyes, my face hot and wet by the tears that fell unintentionally. He keeps looking at me in the same position as before.

"It tastes like incompetence," he says, putting his hands together behind his body.

I put my hand where it would be burning with the slap. My eyes are sad but angry. He walks to the computers behind him and sits in the chair. I feel the camera close to my face, but I keep staring at him with anger and disgust. The sound of sea waves fills my ears until a voice echoes in the background. "Cut."