Darnell turned around, went back to the kitchen, took out some ice cubes, and put them in a ziplock bag. He wrapped it with several layers of tissue paper and handed it to Cierra. "Here, you continue pressing this on Basil's nose." He did it on purpose, as he wouldn't miss such a great opportunity for Basil to realize his true feelings.
Cierra nodded, obediently taking the ice pack. She suppressed the agitation she had just felt and gently placed the ice pack on the bridge of Basil's nose.
The cool sensation touching his forehead and the bridge of his nose made Basil feel much clearer-headed. The earlier confusion and distraction seemed to lessen significantly. "I'll take it from here. You've been pressing for so long; your hand must be tired."
"How can that be? We don't know how long it'll take for your nosebleed to stop. Let Cierra help you first. When she's tired, you can press it yourself. Don't say I don't take care of you. Having a beauty serve you is not a benefit everyone gets."
"It's okay, Mr. Logan. I'll press it for you. Lean back against the sofa; this height is just right for me to help you, and my hand won't get too tired," Cierra said considerately.
Basil had no choice but to look away. The so-called perfect height that Cierra mentioned allowed him to see the beautiful curves of her chest. He could see but not touch, which felt more like torture than a benefit!
"Mr. Logan do you want to lie down a bit? It might be more comfortable."
"Mr. Logan, are you feeling hot? Why is your face so red? Are you sick?"
"Mr. Logan"
Basil finally couldn't help but speak up, "Stop calling me Mr. Logan!"
Oh oh! Basil's tone sounded full of impatience. Cierra thought he was angry, but also felt a bit aggrieved. Did he think she was annoying? She was concerned about him. Why was the director particularly hard to please today?
Seeing the aggrieved look on Cierra's face, Basil realized that she might have misunderstood him. He sighed softly, feeling like something he had been holding onto was beginning to loosen. He tried to soften his tone, saying, "That's not what I meant. I meant don't call me Mr. Logan."
Cierra nodded obediently but was thinking to herself, if she shouldn't call him Mr. Logan, then what should she call him? Basil directly? No, that would be too disrespectful. This was so annoying. She couldn't just call him "hey" all the time, could she?
She felt frustrated. Why was it so complicated? Wasn't calling him Mr. Logan just fine? She almost hit him with her injured right elbow out of annoyance.
"You can call me Bas," Basil said, looking up at the ceiling unnaturally. He thought that when she called Trevon"Trev" on set, it sounded particularly pleasant. Sometimes he fantasized about how it would feel if she called him "Bas." Just thinking about it made his ears start to turn red, making him feel a bit light-headed—
"Uh, okay, Bas. How are you feeling now? Do you need me to move the ice pack a bit?" Cierra touched her nose, thinking that "Bas" was fine. She wouldn't feel like she was still acting. In the latter half of the script, she kept calling Kadin "Kaddie, Kaddie."
Basil pressed his lips together and simply said two words before falling silent, "Very good." It was more than good. The moment he heard her call him "Bas," he felt like his entire body has been rejuvenated. He tried to suppress the corners of his mouth from curling up, feeling utterly refreshed.
"No need. I feel very comfortable. But can you move it a bit higher?" Basil reached out with his right hand, holding Cierra's wrist, and gently moved the ice pack higher to the bridge of his nose. A sigh of relief escaped his lips, so soft it was almost inaudible.
"Don't move. This is the right spot. Let me rest for a bit." Basil didn't seem to intend to let go, his warm hand heating up Cierra's wrist.
Cierra's face turned bright red, but fortunately, Basil had his eyes closed and couldn't see. The proximity made her unable to resist stealing a glance at him. His nose was high and straight, as if sculpted with a chisel, his closed eyelids had an elegant curve, and his perfectly thin lips seemed to be inviting a kiss. Such abundant pheromones were practically a temptation to commit a crime—
Cierra shook her head vigorously, trying to shake off the sudden inappropriate thoughts. She had almost been bewitched into touching his lips until she saw her injured hand. Seeing her bandaged hand extinguished all her inappropriate fantasies. Her rationality kicked in just in time, preventing a major mistake.
But the director was really good-looking, she confirmed again in her heart. It's just a pity his judgment wasn't the best, which caused him to waste away so many years in vain.
She bit her lip, forcing herself to rein in her wandering thoughts. When she looked at him again, her eyes suddenly grew deeper.
Such a good man, not only was he good-looking, but his personality was also top-notch and devoted. Could she, like Cinderella in the fairy tale, have a chance with the help of a fairy godmother to fit into the glass slipper he held?
