Naomi's POV: Samuel let out a helpless smile and said, "Because it's you, I'd do anything for you—no conditions, no questions asked." The warmth of his fingers brushed against my skin, the heat of his touch slowly sinking in, coursing through my veins, finding its way to my heart. He reallydidloveme. Andeverything he did—he didwillingly. But oh, moongoddess, whatam I supposedtodo? I don'tlovehim. "Samuel, if only I had never met you ... " I murmured under my breath. If I hadn't met him, I probably would've kept on loving Jasper ... quietly, stubbornly, always chasing his shadow, hiding my feelings in every awkward glance. Samuel looked startled. He reached up and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear and said, "Then I hope I still get to meet you. And love you, no matter what." Tears welled up in my eyes. Someone like me ... How do I deserve love this gentle? I raised my head and kissed him again, softly, but this time with a hint of desperation. Our lips lingered. I climbed onto his lap, fingers reaching for the buttons on his shirt. But Samuel caught my hand, his eyes flickering with something unreadable. "Naomi, are you sure about this?" I couldn't answer. Instead, I gave a faint smile and let out a barely audible groan. Then, I started undoing his shirt. But Samuel didn't respond. In fact, he pulled away—just slightly, but enough to show signs of resistance. "Naomi, don't do something you'll regret." "Samuel ... " My voice trembled; bitterness spread in my heart. I cupped his face, words bubbling up, but they all caught in my throat. We stared at each other in silence, the charging vibes between us cooling fast, the moment slipping away. And then—a knock on the door shattered the stillness. I snapped back to reality and scrambled to the door. "Are you ready? It's time to go—" Sandra's voice trailed off the moment she caught sight of Samuel sitting on the bed, his shirt still unbuttoned. "Oh—uh, almost!" I stammered, mortified. I had completely forgotten we were shooting an ad this afternoon; I get carried away by the spur of the moment. I could feel the weight of Sandra's judgmental stare, and I honestly wanted to disappear. Samuel, meanwhile, calmly buttoned his shirt and stepped to my side. "Go on. I'll pick you up later for supper tonight." His tone was breezy, as if the whole awkward scene had been someone else's dream. My face was on fire. I gave him a light shove and nodded. "Y-yeah, you go ahead." Samuel smiled and pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead. "I'll always be here." With a polite nod to Sandra, he walked out. Sandra folded her arms and fixed me with a cold, hard stare. My knees nearly gave out. I rushed inside, fumbling to fix my appearance. "I'm almost ready! Just give me a sec!" ... On the ride over in the van, I sat in the back seat, barely daring to breathe as I sneakily stole a glance at my manager. Her lips were pressed in a thin line, her eyes shut as though trying to summon patience from the universe itself. A second later, she opened them and pinned me with a glare. "Have you lost your mind?" "I'm sorry ... " I murmured, ashamed. I regretted everything the second it happened. "For the love of everything sacred, Naomi, I'm begging you, could you please just behave for once? You know it's a sensitive time right now!" She scolded, utterly speechless, "You used to behave—what happened?" "I get it, I get it now," I mumbled. "No, you don't!" she snapped. "If you really knew, we wouldn't be cleaning up mess after mess! Fine, you're in love—great! But could you maybe wait for better timing? What, did you think we could just skip the whole afternoon shoot?" I kept my head low and said nothing more. She sighed and let the scolding drop. A few minutes later, we pulled up to the set. This afternoon's commercial was a reshoot for an endorsement deal. Besides a short video clip, we also had to do a full poster session. Originally, it was just me—but this time, they added a male model. After changing into my outfit, I followed the assistant to the set. A tall figure approached with confident strides. "Hi, I'm Willy Harrett." He was handsome and tall, his features sharp, and there was a relaxed ease to the way he carried himself. I politely shook his hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Naomi." With that, I tried to pull my hand back, but he didn't let go right away. Instead, his eyes swept over me, head to toe, with a look that made my skin crawl. "That dress looks stunning on you," he said as he gave me a glance before finally releasing my hand. The photographer called us over. Everything was ready. Willy was professional—at least in front of the camera. His movements were smooth, his presence was strong, and we looked fine together. "All right, Willy, place your hand on Naomi's waist," the photographer instructed while motioning mid-air to guide our pose. Willy shot me a smile, then wrapped his arm around me, pulling me into his arms. I froze, but the photographer didn't say anything, so I stayed quiet. Still, Willy began inching closer and closer, and the way his hand lingered at my waist ... was starting to cross a line.