"Well..." Alfred Moran, the director, could only murmur awkwardly.

Jeff Bale, the bald scriptwriter, strode up with an apologetic smile. "Actually, Ms. York rejected the parts. And she's one of the sponsors for the production, so we can't just force her.

"Yeah, Mr. Xinder," Alfred reasoned. "Just calm down, and get ready for your part today."

"Fuck off!"

Roman refused to hear a word of it, however and flung the script an assistant brought him straight at Alfred's face. "I wouldn't have taken this role if Noel wasn't involved! And now you're telling me that we don't have intimate scenes?! What am I even doing here?!"

Frank narrowed his eyes at Roman's outburst, his impression of the man hitting rock-bottom instantly.

However, Roman just happened to be seeing red and needed more people to vent.

As the production crew was busy with their respective tasks and kept their heads down so that they did not get caught, only Frank was staring his way.

Roman abruptly realized that Frank was staring his way. He strode toward Frank, pointing at Frank and snapping, "Who is he?! Who let him in here?! Who's going to take responsibility if my public image gets affected?!"

Mr. Xinder." His manager quickly tried to

crew seemed to revolve around him, and no one dared to mess

was when Frank spoke flatly, "Your

production crew was suddenly still and

Roman demanded in disbelief, as if

and chuckled coolly. "I said, how is your public image going

cheeks flushed as he flew into a rage and leapt at Frank, ready to

him, slapping him resoundingly and sending him

"What?!"

"How dare you!"

"You've asked for it!"

relation left the production crew. and the security guards all turning pale, and some quickly helped

are you?!

the face of one of

was basically a slap to the

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