Beneath the noise

Uncharted Territory

Raina's pov:

There are few things in this world that truly test my patience. I can handle the press, with their endless questions and camera flashes. I can handle critics, tabloids, and even strangers who assume they know me because they've seen a glimpse of my life online. But sitting in my own office at RV Beauty, about to be convinced that faking a relationship with an aloof Spanish actor is a good idea? That was testing me on a whole new level.

The whole situation felt surreal. I'd poured myself into RV Beauty from the ground up, shaping every detail to reflect the values I believe in-authenticity, independence, hard work. And now Carter, my manager, was about to sell me on some twisted fantasy of romance for the sake of "exposure." As if Gabriel Mendoza's icy gaze and half-hearted charm would add any real value to my brand.

I drummed my fingers on the conference table, the familiar textures and scents of my office doing little to calm me. Usually, this room felt like my sanctuary. It was where I planned every campaign, crafted ideas for new products, and met with my team about the next big launch. It was my space, designed down to the smallest detail with me in mind. But today, with Carter seated at the head of the table, grinning like a Cheshire cat, it felt like I was a visitor in my own world.

I glanced at the large windows that framed the skyline outside, an endless stretch of glass and steel. Normally, that view gave me strength. But today, it was a reminder of everything I'd worked for-and everything Carter was putting at risk with this insane idea.

"Raina! I'm telling you, this is going to be fantastic," Carter said, leaning forward with that bright, eager grin he reserved for his biggest pitches.

I barely suppressed a sigh. "Carter, I'm only here to listen. Don't get ahead of yourself."

"Oh, I know, I know," he replied, waving his hand as if to brush off my frustration. "But once you hear everything, I think you'll agree this is the right move for both of you."

Both of us. He said it like we were already a team, like I was just one half of a pair whose fates were somehow entwined. It was absurd. RV Beauty was doing just fine without Gabriel Mendoza, thank you very much. I'd been planning to expand into Europe for months now-Gabriel's fan base wasn't some magic key that would unlock that market for me.

The door creaked open behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder, expecting another member of Carter's team with a clipboard or some stats. But then, I caught sight of the man entering the room, and my breath hitched.

Gabriel Mendoza.

I'd seen a thousand photos of him-on magazine covers, movie posters, social media posts that fans plastered all over the internet. But none of them had prepared me for the real thing. He was... breathtaking. Not in a romantic, fairytale way, but in a way that felt dangerously magnetic, like staring into the heart of a storm. He was tall, impossibly so, with broad shoulders that somehow seemed even more imposing in person. His dark hair was slightly tousled, like he'd just run his fingers through it, and his jawline was sharp enough to cut glass.

But it was his eyes that made me catch my breath. They were a piercing shade of dark brown, almost black, intense and unreadable. There was something in them that was simultaneously captivating and unsettling-a kind of depth, a darkness I couldn't place. He moved with an effortless grace, each step calm, controlled, like he owned every inch of space around him. His confidence bordered on arrogance, and yet, there was something magnetic about it, something that made it nearly impossible to look away.

He inclined his head in a polite nod, his gaze drifting over me briefly before settling on Carter, as if I were a part of the background.

"Apologies for being late," he said, his voice smooth and low, like he was used to having people hang on his every word. He took the seat directly across from me, his expression one of polite indifference, as though he'd already decided this was a waste of his time.