Falling for the Talent Agent

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I went to the airport to help my fangirl best friend welcome her idol, but ended up falling hard for his manager instead.

While the rest of the crowd was screaming at the celebrity, I let out a loud, shameless catcall directed straight at the man in the suit.

Hey handsome, how long are you?

The moment the words left my mouth, I realized how incredibly wrong they sounded. Frantic to save face, I stumbled over my words to fix it.

"I meant your height!"

The manager: ...

After chasing him for nearly a month, he gently but firmly shut me down.

"Don't waste your time on me. I have no plans to get into a relationship anytime soon."

Taking the hint, I decided to move on and started focusing on a new indie musician.

But the man who claimed he had no plans for love ended up pinning me against a cold brick wall in a dark, empty alleyway.

"Weren't you dying to know how long I am? Measure it yourself."

At the end of the chaotic VIP arrivals terminal, my best friend, Gloria, grabbed my arm and shook it so hard my teeth rattled.

"Oh my god, he's here! He's actually here!"

I stood on my tip-toes, trying to peer through the sea of heads blocking my view. "Where? I don't see him. Which one?"

Gloria let out a sharp squeal, taking a brief second to point my blind eyes in the right direction. "Right there, at your eight o'clock. The most handsome guy in the room."

I nodded, squinting toward her finger.

A man dressed in black had just rounded the corner of the corridor. A pair of elegant, gold-rimmed glasses rested on the high bridge of his nose. He had one hand shoved into his pocket while the other held a phone to his ear, his sleeve shifting just enough to reveal a sleek mechanical watch.

"The guy in black? Wow, you weren't kidding. He's gorgeous."

The moment the words left my mouth, several fans standing nearby glared at me and pointedly took a few steps back.

"No, idiot!" Gloria hissed. "The guy in black is Marcus, Ashton's manager. I can't believe Marcus is actually traveling with him today!"

There must have been an emergency on the phone. Marcus gestured to a few assistants and slowed his pace, falling to the back of the group.

A half-dozen assistants swarmed around a tall, masked figure, guiding the star forward like a protective shield. The crowd of fans immediately surged ahead to follow them.

I dragged my feet, lingering at the back.

Marcus hung up the call, frowning as he checked his watch. I stared at his collarbones, which were partially visible beneath his slightly loosened collar, and my brain completely short-circuited.

In the midst of the deafening cheers and screams ahead, a sharp, clear whistle cut through the air.

"Hey handsome, how long are you?"

The bustling corridor fell into a sudden, agonizing silence.

Marcuss fingers trembled against his phone. Behind those gold-rimmed lenses, his narrow, dark eyes slowly squinted in my direction. He pressed his lips together, his earlobes turning a brilliant, unmistakable shade of crimson right before my eyes.

My hands flew to cover my mouth. Catching Gloria's horrified expression, I frantically tried to salvage the situation.

"I, I mean, I was asking about your height!"

Marcus pushed up his glasses, his expression turning completely blank as he noticeably quickened his pace.

Not far ahead, Ashton, who was busy signing autographs, noticed the commotion. The eyes beneath his baseball cap curved into amused crescents. He tossed an arched brow at Marcus, clearly enjoying the free entertainment.

"Hey, boss," Ashton drawled, prolonging the syllables. "Someone's asking you a question."

Marcus shot him a freezing glare, his voice low with warning. "Shut up."

An eagle-eyed fan page happened to capture the entire exchange on video. It stayed pinned to the top of the trending charts for three solid days.

The question of just how long Ashton's manager actually was became the internet's favorite unsolved mystery.

"So, what do you actually know about Marcus?" I asked, tossing my phone onto the couch and looking at Gloria with wide, hopeful eyes.

"Are you seriously crushing on him?"

I nodded sheepishly.

"Well, you've picked a tough one," Gloria sighed. "The guy is a total mystery. All I know is that he's the industry's ultimate ice king, a literal work machine. Just last month, he personally sent a whole group of obsessive stalkers straight to jail."

I let out a heavy sigh, wondering if I should just give up.

But my mind kept drifting back to his sharp, cold face and the way the tips of his ears had flushed red in the airport.

Since Gloria couldn't offer much help, I took to the internet. Unfortunately, details about him were scarce. Aside from his professional reputation as a top-tier manager, there was practically nothing.

"How can someone be this hard to find?" I muttered to myself. Just as I was about to dig deeper, my phone vibrated.

It was my brother, Nathan, asking me to pick him up.

The background noise on his end was loud, filled with the clinking of glasses and muffled laughter. With a heavy sigh of resignation, I grabbed my coat and headed out the door.

When I arrived at the bar and pushed open the door to the private room, the first thing I saw was Nathan's flushed, glassy-eyed face.

"Hey! Over here!" he waved.

I frowned and walked over, preparing to lecture him, but stopped dead in my tracks.

Sitting right across from Nathan was Marcus.

He was wearing the same clothes from earlier today. Perhaps the room was too warm, because he had undone the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt. When he saw me, a faint eyebrow arched in surprise.

"This is my sister, Vivian," Nathan slurred, gesturing wildly at me. "She's a total bookworm, very quiet, basically lives under a rock."

I nearly tripped over my own feet, keeping my head down and not daring to make eye contact.

Nathan, you idiot. Your sister reads romance novels with very vivid descriptions, and she only stays home during the day so she can sneak out at night while you're asleep.

"Quiet?"

Marcus let out a soft chuckle, taking a slow sip from his glass. His gaze lingered on me for a few agonizing seconds before he quietly looked away.

Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, I quickly tried to steer the conversation. "Nathan, you've had too much to drink. Let's go home."

Nathan waved me off. "No rush. Sit down for a bit."

With no other choice, I sat down and stole a quiet glance at Marcus. He was leaning back against the leather sofa, his unbuttoned collar exposing the elegant lines of his collarbone. In the dim amber light of the bar, his profile looked incredibly sharp and effortlessly attractive.

"Nathan," I whispered, tugging gently on my brother's sleeve. "Is he your friend?"

"Yeah," Nathan muttered, nodding.

"How come you've never mentioned him before?" I pressed.

"What do you mean? I talk about him all the time. He's the guy you called a pretentious prick at dinner last week..."

"You are definitely drunk!"

I lunged forward to cover his mouth, but the damage was already done. Nathan was close enough to Marcus that his voice hadn't been quiet at all. To make matters worse, he pointed a finger directly at Marcus to make sure there was no confusion about who we were talking about.

Suddenly, every eye in the room turned to us.

My face burned with a fierce heat. I waved my hands frantically in denial. "No, that's not true! I didn't say that! Don't listen to him!"

Marcus let out a low laugh and set his glass down, staring at me with an amused, knowing look.

Feeling the urge to crawl into a hole and die, I decided to throw my drunken brother entirely under the bus. "He made me say it!"

My betrayal was so seamless that the rest of the table burst into laughter.

I wanted to apologize to Marcus, but as I stood up, my high heel caught in a gap in the thick rug. I lost my balance entirely.

As the room spun, a warm, firm hand caught me securely by the waist, steadying me.

My mind went completely blank. I found myself staring directly at a tiny, dark mole just beside Marcuss Adams apple. The room became so quiet I could hear the faint thrum of the bass from the main floor.

Then, a groggy voice broke the silence from below.

"Huh? Why am I on the floor?"

Nathan rubbed his forehead, swaying as he struggled to his feet. "Vivian, why is your face so red?"

"Thank you, I have to go!" I squeaked out.

It was the perfect opportunity to make a connection, but I cowardly chose to run.

It wasn't until we got home that I realized I had completely forgotten to ask for Marcus's number.

As I lay in bed, my mind was filled entirely with his face, the scent of his cologne, the tiny mole on his neck, and the faint, teasing smile at the corner of his lips. I buried my face in my pillow and groaned.

I was completely, utterly doomed.

Suddenly, I sat up in bed. I walked down to the kitchen, warmed up a glass of milk, and knocked on Nathan's door.

"Nathan, are you asleep?"

Ignoring his steady, quiet breathing, I shook his shoulder until his eyes fluttered open.

"What is it?" He reached for his glasses on the nightstand, looking thoroughly disoriented.

"You drank a lot tonight, and I was worried you wouldn't sleep well. So I made you some warm milk."

Nathan stared at me. "Vivian."

"Oh, were you asleep? Your eyes were closed, so I wasn't sure."

Nathan: ...

"Here, drink your milk," I said, offering the glass with my most innocent smile.

Nathan let out a long sigh and held up three fingers. "I'm giving you three seconds. If you don't tell me what you want, get out and close the door."

I bit my lip, lowering my voice. "You haven't texted Marcus to let him know we got home safely."

Nathan let out a dry, mocking laugh. He grabbed his phone, tapped the screen a few times, and shared Marcus's contact card with me. The bright light of the screen was blinding in the dark room.

My heart hammered against my ribs as I looked at the contact details. My thumb hovered over the add button, trembling.

"It's so late. Do you think he's asleep?"

Nathan rolled over, turning his back to me. "He's an iceberg, completely ruthless. Don't go looking for trouble."

Ignoring his warning, I clutched my phone like a prize and hurried back to my room.

The phone vibrated in my hand, and I practically bounced off the bed. After screaming silently at the ceiling, I opened the message with trembling fingers.

Hi Marcus, this is Vivian.

Nathan and I made it home safely.

Thank you for catching me tonight, otherwise I would have ended up with a massive lump on my head.

I immediately flipped the phone face down onto my chest, holding my breath.

It took three long minutes before the screen lit up with his reply.

K.

Outside, the wind rustled the leaves against my window, creating a restless pattern of shadows. I rolled over, determined to keep the conversation going.

When you helped me earlier, I think some of my lipstick got on your white shirt.

Can I pay for the dry cleaning?

Or maybe I could buy you dinner to make up for it?

Also, about what happened at the airport today, I'm really sorry.

This time, I waited a full five minutes.

No need.

It is late, and I am about to take a shower. Goodnight, Miss Bennett.

How was I supposed to reply to that?

I quickly opened a guide Gloria had sent me titled The Fine Art of Flirting, and typed out a confident response.

A shower?!

Sending me a text like that in the middle of the night makes me feel like things are getting a bit intimate between us.

The message had barely sent when the screen showed typing...

A minute later, Marcus retracted his previous message.

It is late, and I am going to boil some water. Goodnight, Miss Bennett.

I stared at the screen.

Well played. He had officially caught my attention.

I spent the rest of the night drafting a master plan. Using Nathan's connections, I managed to secure an internship at Marcus's agency.

The tantrums and begging I had to go through to get Nathan to agree weren't worth mentioning, but the result was all that mattered.

I stared at my new ID badge, tracing the letters of my name, and let out a long breath.

Today happened to be the monthly evaluation for the agency's trainees. A group of teenagers was currently performing, and Marcus stood at the front, his arms crossed and his brow furrowed in a deep frown.

"Stop," he barked, tapping his fingers sharply on the desk. "Your transition in the chorus sounds like a choking goose. And you, cut down on the excessive gestures. It just looks cheap."

When I pushed the door open, a dozen pairs of eyes immediately locked onto me.

Nathan must have warned him beforehand, because Marcus didn't look surprised to see me.

"Everyone, this is Vivian Bennett. She's our new intern."

Marcus nodded and pointed to the empty chair right next to him. "Sit here." He then turned to the rest of the staff. "She'll be shadowing me for the foreseeable future."

The staff nodded, though the looks they exchanged were incredibly strange.

I was confused at first, assuming they were just annoyed by a nepotism hire. But within thirty minutes, I understood completely.

Those looks weren't annoyance. They were pure pity.

Marcus was absolutely terrifying at work. He ran the office like a highly precise, unforgiving machine, delivering sharp, brutal criticism without sparing anyone's feelings.

"You call this dancing? A elementary school play has better coordination than this."

"Is this agency a farm? If you keep gaining weight, are you planning to star in a documentary about lost muscle definition?"

"Who approved this proposal? Are you being paid just to produce generic garbage?"

Under the bright fluorescent lights, the trainees looked incredibly pale. The room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Fortunately, since it was my first day, none of the fire was directed at me. I carefully slipped my phone out under the table and started texting Gloria.

Marcus looks exactly like an Angry Bird when he's mad.

He's so hot. I want to kiss him.

I am absolutely going to make him mine. [Cute cat heart meme]

Gloria, who usually replied within seconds, didn't text back.

I looked up in confusion, only to find the entire room staring at me with wide, shocked eyes.

Following their gazes, my eyes landed on the massive presentation screen at the front of the room, which was currently displaying the cute cat heart meme.

My stomach dropped.

In my rush, I had clicked the very top conversation in my chat list, entirely forgetting that my last interaction was with Marcus. I had sent the message directly to him, and since his phone was currently cast to the main screen for the presentation...

Now I knew why Gloria hadn't replied. She never received it.

I shrank back into my chair, wishing the floor would open up and swallow me whole.

"The resemblance is actually quite striking," Ashton commented from the doorway, leaning against the frame with a massive grin. "Good description, Vivian, though your taste in men could use some work."

I buried my head even lower.

"That's enough for today," Marcus announced, completely ignoring Ashton's teasing.

Everyone in the room let out a collective sigh of relief.

As they began to filter out, I remained frozen in my seat. Marcus turned to look at me. "Are you coming?"

"Oh, right," I muttered, quickly gathering my things to follow him.

The steady click of his leather shoes on the marble floor sounded like a countdown timer. I kept my eyes glued to the pattern on the floor, my heart hammering against my ribs.

Suddenly, he stopped and turned. I walked straight into his chest.

"Miss Bennett."

The scent of cedarwood and faint amber washed over me. I stumbled back a step, but Marcus caught me by the elbow to steady me.

Looking up, I could see his throat shifting as he swallowed. We were so close I could see my own reflection in his glasses.

"Does your plan to pursue me include following me into the men's restroom?"

I scrambled back another step, finally noticing the sign on the door behind him. "Sorry, I was distracted."

"My office is that way," Marcus pointed down the hall.

I turned to leave, but his voice stopped me.

"Miss Bennett, I have schedules to manage, brand deals to secure, and teams to run. I really don't have the time to play romance games with you."

I squeezed my hands into fists, my knuckles turning white.

His voice was low, carrying a rich, resonant tone. The scent of his cologne lingered in the air between us. Marcus clearly thought his blunt rejection would send me packing, but he had no idea that I hadn't processed a single word he said. I was too busy staring at the tiny mole on his neck.

"Miss Bennett, do you understand?" Marcus's cold voice finally brought me back to reality.

"I didn't hear a word," I whispered. "But I really want to kiss you."

Marcus: ...