Chapter215 – Meet Nova again
The afternoon shoot dragged on. With Atticus sitting around looking far too conspicuous, Clarissa finally shoved a few chores his way just to keep the peace.
He didn’t complain—he moved gear, fetched supplies, even acted like her personal assistant. When a piece of equipment broke, Atticus casually borrowed a hammer from the props crew, tinkered with it for a few minutes, and somehow managed to get it working again.
That was all it took for him to become the darling of the set. Even the ever-critical Upton couldn’t help but praise him, calling him a capable young man and complimenting Clarissa’s “good taste.”
Atticus caught Clarissa smiling at him from across the room. “What?” he asked, suspicious. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“They said you were amazing,” Clarissa teased, leaning forward to hide her grin. “They even said… you looked like my little wolfhound.”
The words had barely left her mouth before Atticus’s arm snaked around her waist, pulling her flush against him. His breath was hot against her ear, and he caught her earlobe between his teeth in a quick, wicked nip. “Then shouldn’t I play my part properly and take care of my sponsor?”
The bite sent a sharp, tingling shiver racing up Clarissa’s spine, goosebumps breaking out across her arms.
She whimpered, cheeks blazing, her voice trembling as she tried to push him away. “Stop… stop talking nonsense.”
But Atticus only lowered his voice, teasing, “Clarissa, acting like this, and you still call yourself my sponsor?”
Her lashes lowered, irritation sparking beneath her embarrassment. She was, after all, decades older than him in mind and experience. Yet somehow, in this one arena, she lost every time—face red, heart pounding, breath tripping over itself at his taunts.
It was infuriating. Even if she’d never been in love before, she refused to surrender completely to him, especially when this was his first relationship. If she kept letting him have the upper hand, her “older sister” authority would vanish.
But love—that was exactly her blind spot.
Atticus, watching the flicker of frustration in her eyes, immediately guessed her thoughts. A sly smile curved his lips.
He reached for her hand. “Let’s head home. Want to eat in, or go out?”
“Go out,” Clarissa decided. “You’ve been running around all day. No need to cook.”
He didn’t argue, simply walked her toward the parking lot.
Hand in hand, both smiling faintly, they made a striking pair. Their looks alone were enough to draw attention.
Not all of it was welcome.
From a distance, Xerxes’s gaze locked on Atticus, his expression darkening. All day the spotlight had shifted away from him—and even the lowest crew members had been whispering about the newcomer. Fury simmered in his chest.
Tasha, standing beside him with a clipboard, noticed his fixed stare. She followed it, her eyes landing on the couple.
“Who’s that?” Xerxes asked.
“I heard he’s Clarissa’s boyfriend.”
Xerxes frowned. Clarissa wasn’t exactly his type—too sharp, too cold—but her beauty was undeniable. And more importantly, she owned the company. Lancaster blood, wealthy and well connected. Landing her would be a career jackpot.
He hadn’t expected her to already have someone.
“That kid looks younger than her,” Xerxes muttered.
“I don’t know. But I heard he’s some kind of forensic pathologist. Atticus, I think,” Tasha supplied.
Xerxes sneered, watching Atticus open the car door for Clarissa and slip in beside her before the car rolled away. “Forensic pathologist, my ass. He’s just a pretty gigolo living off her.”
Tasha caught his meaning immediately. “I thought you’d be the one to reel in Clarissa, the moneybag. Someone beat you to it.”
“Don’t worry,” Xerxes said coldly. “My turn will come.”
“That’s right,” she agreed quickly. “With your talent, you’re destined to be a star. When that happens, everyone will bow their heads to us.”
Her faith in him was absolute. Xerxes was ambitious, smooth, and shameless enough to thrive in this business.
“By the way,” she added, “I heard you found yourself a rich girlfriend recently.”
Xerxes smirked. “Yeah. A minor celebrity. Gorgeous—easily as pretty as Clarissa. Says she’s a big fan of mine, even joined the industry just to meet me. She’s been spoiling me with gifts, cheering me on.”
He lifted his wrist, flashing the Rolex on it.
Tasha’s eyes widened. “She really bought you that?”
“Yeah. And I’d bet she’s still a virgin. I’ve been planning to take care of her soon.”
.....
They parked by the roadside and continued on foot.
Walking past a café, Clarissa suddenly paused, tugging Atticus’s sleeve. “Wait—isn’t that Nova?”
Atticus followed her gaze, frowning before recognition flickered. The young woman at the table had a familiar face.
“Your former assistant?” he asked.
Clarissa nodded, surprised. “I didn’t think you’d remember her. Let’s say hello.”
She led him inside. “Nova.”
The girl stiffened at the familiar voice, whipping her head around. When she saw Clarissa, her eyes lit up and she leapt to her feet.
“Miss Clarissa! I can’t believe it’s you. How have you been?” She threw her arms around her with genuine excitement.
Clarissa hugged her back warmly. “I’m happy to see you too. Out with friends?”
“Yes, yes…” Nova replied, but her gaze drifted past Clarissa. The moment her eyes landed on Atticus’s cold expression, her legs nearly gave out.
Atticus stepped forward without a word, wrapping an arm firmly around Clarissa’s waist. The gesture wasn’t affectionate—it was possessive.
Nova’s voice trembled. “W-what are you doing?”
Clarissa, unfazed, answered plainly, “You’re not mistaken. We’re together now.”
“What?” Nova’s face drained of color.
Atticus’s eyes narrowed, his voice flat. “What’s with that reaction? Surprised?”
Pinned by his frosty gaze, Nova forced a laugh. “No, no… you two are a perfect match. Truly.”
Satisfied, Atticus lowered his head toward Clarissa, his expression transforming in an instant. His cold mask melted into tender affection, his eyes soft as he looked at her.
The shift was so startling Nova could only stare. He was terrifying one second, gentle the next—like a master actor switching roles mid-scene. If he ever stepped into the entertainment world, he’d dominate.
Clarissa touched his chest lightly. “We should go. Didn’t we say we were getting food?”
She turned back to Nova. “It was good seeing you. I won’t disturb you any longer.”
Nova nodded quickly. “O-of course. Take care, Miss Clarissa.”
She wanted to ask more, but Atticus’s presence stifled her. After Clarissa and Atticus left, Nova sank back into her seat.
Across from her sat Whitney—a beautiful, quiet girl with delicate features that carried a faint familiarity.
“Who was that?” Whitney asked softly. “You seemed… very fond of her.”
“My old boss,” Nova explained. “A kind woman. But something happened, and she resigned.”
She reached for Whitney’s hand, her voice tinged with worry. “Why did you come out? And to join the entertainment industry, of all places? Do they know?”
Whitney shook her head. “It’s fine. I’m grown. And I’m just a girl—you know how the rules work there.”
“Even so,” Nova pressed, gripping her hand tighter, “this industry is full of traps. You’re too trusting. I’m afraid someone will hurt you.”
Whitney’s worry softened into a smile as she squeezed back. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself. But what about you, sister? How have you been?”
The word sister caught in Nova’s chest. She took a steadying breath before answering, “I’m doing well. My job is stable, I’ve been saving steadily. Soon I’ll have enough for a small place of my own.”
Whitney reached into her purse, pulled out a bank card, and pressed it into her hand. “You want a house? Take this. There’s five million on it.”
Nova pushed it back immediately. “No. I can’t accept that.”
“Sister—”
“I said no.” Nova’s tone was firm. “I can support myself. I don’t need your money.”
Whitney’s eyes shimmered with tears. “I’m sorry. I’m such a burden to you. You should be living in luxury, not me.”
Nova reached out, brushing away her tears with gentle fingers. “Don’t be silly. We grew up together—there’s no difference between us. If Mom and Dad hadn’t taken me in, I might not even be here today. Everything I’ve done has been by choice. So don’t feel guilty. I’m happy. I’m free. The life of a wealthy daughter was never meant for me.”
Her smile was open and warm, not delicate like Whitney’s beauty, but radiant, like sunlight after rain.
Watching her, Whitney’s lips curved despite herself.
....
As Atticus and Clarissa walked down the street, he stole a sideways glance at her. She lowered her head, lost in thought. He couldn't resist asking, "Clarissa, what’s on your mind?"
"That girl… she looks familiar," she murmured.
"Which one?"
"The one Nova’s been waiting for. The pretty one. Didn’t you notice her?"
"I think I did… but I can’t quite remember what she looked like," Atticus replied without hesitation.
He wasn’t lying. Other women never held his interest. And with Clarissa at his side, he considered himself lucky just to spare a glance for Nova—though he couldn’t recall Nova clearly either.
Atticus, noticing her reaction, couldn’t help but tease, "So you were watching everyone else, not me. Is she prettier than me?"
Clarissa gave him a wry smile. "You’re jealous of women, aren’t you?"
"Of course," he said, his voice low and possessive. "You’re only allowed to look at me. No one else—even women. You belong to me."
A dark glint flashed in his eyes as he drew her into a tight, commanding embrace, silently asserting his dominance. The more time he spent with her, the stronger the pull of his desire became. His possessiveness grew like a thorned vine, spreading uncontrollably through his heart. Every thorn pierced his skin, leaving a slow, intoxicating burn…
He didn’t want her working outside. He wanted to keep her at home, shield her from prying eyes. Seeing people look at her made him ache to tear out their eyes—but he held back. If he acted on it, he would frighten her.
So instead, he smothered her in attention, drew her closer, made his presence inescapable. He wanted her to fall so deeply in love with him that she could never imagine life without him.
Clarissa, oblivious to the darker edge beneath his thoughts, laughed softly at his childish words. "That girl… she looks like a celebrity. I think her name is Whitney."
Atticus tilted his head. "And…?"
"That name seems familiar," she said thoughtfully, recalling the actress from a book she’d read. Whitney’s background was mysterious. Despite humble origins, she had risen to fame, perhaps aided by a secret patron—details the author never revealed. Clarissa didn’t know how to explain this to Atticus. After a pause, she added, "I just think she has potential… she could be a movie star."
"You want to poach her?" Atticus asked. "Not impossible."