By the time Damien and Maya arrived at the Garden Pavilion, the shoot was already in full swing. Bright flashes of the camera strobed against the soft blush of tropical florals, models in flowing linen swayed to the beat of the wind, and the production crew buzzed around with crisp efficiency.
They walked in hand-in-hand, the subtle intimacy of their joined fingers speaking volumes.
Ethan Miller saw it instantly.
His gaze locked on their intertwined hands with a sharpness that didn’t go unnoticed—not by the lighting assistant, nor the makeup artist dabbing powder across his cheek. A flicker passed through his eyes—dark, tense. He didn’t even respond when the photographer called his name, not until his manager leaned in and murmured something in his ear.
“Ethan,” his manager hissed unde
