Falling for Miss Director

In Europe, Country S...

Seven years ago... 

Sydney exhaled deeply, trying to wrap her mind around the event unfolding before her. A slight twitch crossed her face as she glanced down at her phone, hoping to catch a glimpse of the time.

With a frustrated grunt, she lifted her head, feeling utterly fed up with the situation.

Determined to escape, she rose from her seat and navigated through the rows, eager to leave the stifling confines of the auditorium.

Once outside, she pulled out her phone and dialed Penelope's number, waiting impatiently for her friend to pick up. Finally, she heard Penelope's cheerful voice.

"Hey, how's the event going?" 

"Seriously? You're asking me that? Pene, I told you from the start that I didn't want to come here, but you insisted."

"What on earth are you talking about, Sydney? It's an award, for crying out loud! Countless directors would give anything just to attend such an event, and here you are, complaining about your incredible fortune?"

Sydney let out a sigh, rolling her eyes as she lowered her head. Each step in her heels was deliberate, and she carefully grasped the hem of her gown to walk with grace. Suddenly, she collided with someone.

"Ugh, seriously!" she exclaimed, wincing from the sudden impact. Her hand instinctively moved to her forehead, but in doing so, her phone slipped from her grasp and hit the ground.

"I'm terribly sorry," came a deep, apologetic voice.

"No, no, it's my fault," she insisted, keeping her eyes downcast as she gently rubbed the sore spot on her head.

"I really should have been more careful—" her sentence trailed off as she finally looked up, her attention captured by the man who approached, holding out her phone.

She was taken aback, her lips parting slightly as she nervously bit her lower lip.

"I think the blame is mine; nonetheless, here's your phone," the man said calmly, returning the device to her hand.

Her eyes fluttered, and though her hand accepted his touch almost instinctively, she couldn't help but be utterly captivated by the man's striking presence.

Who on earth was this intriguing stranger?

She gazed deeper into his silver eyes, taking in the serene demeanor of this milky-skinned figure. 

Dressed to perfection, he wore a dashing green-black tuxedo that clearly took his stylist considerable effort to perfect for the event. 

His attire, coupled with an aura of regal authority and articulate charm, filled the room with an intensity that shattered her youthful innocence.

She swallowed hard, feeling her heart race as she meticulously observed every facet of him. 

His jet-black hair was immaculately slicked back, yet as she stared into his eyes, she couldn't shake the impression that this stunningly handsome figure resembled a charming demon, peering into her very soul with his penetrating gaze.

"Did I interrupt your call?" he asked gently, as she shook her head in response. 

"No, no, I must be leaving now," she stammered, suddenly gripped by an inexplicable terror. 

She had never experienced anything remotely like this before—what was this strange, bewildering sensation? 

She resisted the urge to touch her cheeks, yet felt them burn with a fiery crimson hue. 

Her breathing grew erratic and shallow. 

With a faint smile, she wrapped up the phone call and prepared to leave. Just then, the man's words stopped her in her tracks, making her swivel around with a gasp. 

"Wait, are you Sydney Mia?" The man inquired, causing Sydney to pout before she nodded in recognition. 

How did he know who she was? 

"Yes, why?" she asked, her right eyebrow arching in curiosity as the man broke into an unexpected grin. 

"Oh my goodness, this feels like a dream fulfilled. I've admired you my whole life," the man exclaimed with unbridled enthusiasm. 

This unforeseen surprise completely caught her off guard, leaving her momentarily stunned.

She seemed to have entirely forgotten who she was.

"Really now? I just assumed folks glued themselves to their TV sets, screamed at the sight of any character, and never once thought about the directors behind the scenes."

"What are you implying? It's the director who breathes life into these creations, so you surely deserve the recognition," he remarked, trying to create a delightful atmosphere with Sydney.

She blushed deeply; he had quite the knack for charming people.

"I bet you're curious about me. Hello, I'm Nicholas Jordan," he introduced himself, extending his hand warmly for a handshake.

She tilted her head slightly to take in his large, imposing hand, then reached out to grasp it.

"Pleased to meet you, my most devoted admirer," she replied with a cheerful smile.

"Well, I suppose there's no need for me to introduce myself since you already know who I am," Sydney said, prompting a shared laugh between them.

In the stillness of the moment, their eyes exchanged a thousand unspoken words, each reminiscing silently about the occasion.

Sydney sensed an urgency within Jordan, an eagerness to voice something she was already poised to inquire about. Yet, before she could utter a word, he broke the silence.

"I know this might seem intrusive, almost as if I'm stepping over a boundary, but I couldn't help overhearing your phone conversation before our paths crossed. I don't mean to pry, but why would someone of your stature, a director, seem uninterested in the most anticipated event of the year?"

For a long moment, Sydney studied him, wrestling with whether he was someone she could confide in.

"If you prefer not to discuss it, I completely understand—"

"It's not that," she interjected. "I'm open to sharing. The truth is, the event has become monotonous. Every year, it's the same routine: attending the awards, collecting accolades, posing for cameras, mingling. It all unfolds as expected, yet now it feels repetitive, losing its charm."

"Oh," Jordan murmured, his hand instinctively reaching up to ruffle his hair, a telltale sign of his nervousness about the conversation's direction.

"Oh, what an unexpected turn of events! I've been nominated for one of the categories, and since you mentioned feeling a tad bored, I was wondering if you'd consider accompanying me. If I do find myself victorious, it would mean the world to have you there by my side, Miss Sydney."

The anticipation of Sydney's reply made his heart race a little faster, hoping fervently for a positive response.

For a moment, she regarded him with a neutral gaze, then suddenly burst into laughter.

Was his proposal truly that absurd?

He began second-guessing himself, worried he might have overstepped.

"I apologize for my laughter, but if you're that insistent, then alright. I'm quite curious to see if you'll manage to best me. I've been nominated in several categories, and your single nomination might just be a bias against me. I guess that sets the stakes higher."

"Oh my goodness," Jordan exclaimed, humorously fanning himself with his hands.

Sydney seemed taken aback by his exaggerated reaction.

"What's going on?" she asked with genuine curiosity.

"Well, Sydney Mia actually agreed to my request, and I'm absolutely thrilled about it!"

Sydney responded with a bemused smile, acknowledging his playful antics.

"I'm truly sorry—" he murmured, trying to maintain his composure.

"I understand, don't worry at all," she replied, her laughter bubbling up like a melody.

It was unfathomable to her how someone like him could adopt such a whimsical demeanor.

A few moments later, they found themselves back at the starting point: a silence as profound as the night.

"So, I suppose it's time for us to leave," Sydney suggested with a hint of reluctance.

"Yes, after you," he responded, courteously stepping aside to let Sydney pass first.

Once they settled into their seats in the auditorium, Sydney's attention was abruptly diverted by the gentle hum of her phone.

It was an alert.

She squinted through the cracked screen to read the notification; it was a message from Pene.

"Why did you suddenly hang up? Don't tell me you're heading back home."

"I'm sorry, my friend, but I've had a change of heart, and I think I'll stay," Sydney tapped out her response.

"What? You weren't keen on it earlier; what made you change your mind now?"

"Well, let's just say that something out of the ordinary has finally happened, a welcome change," she wrapped up her message, tucking her phone back into her purse with a sense of resolve.

"May I ask, without causing any offense? It's something that's lingered in my mind while watching your films."

Jordan leaned in closer, his words barely a whisper, prompting Sydney to shift slightly before her eyes met his gaze, only to quickly look away.

"About what?" she asked, her voice unsteady.

"Well, in 'Metric Bond,' I was captivated by the dialogues between the lead characters. I'm curious about how you managed to translate such profound literary emotion onto the screen. What was your secret?"

"Oh, that—" She began to respond, but their conversation was interrupted as Jordan's name resounded through the room.

The award presenters announced him as the winner in the category.

"And the winner is our promising director, Jordan Nicholas, for 'Troubled at Heart,'" declared one co-presenter into the microphone, as the others held the prize aloft.

Sydney was completely taken by surprise, as she hadn't anticipated this outcome.

She turned to him, bewildered.

"Wasn't I also nominated for that category?" She questioned, her voice laced with disbelief.

Jordan flashed her a sly grin as he rose from his seat.

"Perhaps it's your good luck charm," he quipped, heading toward the stage.

"Oh my," Sydney gasped, struggling to process the unexpected twist. Her hand flew to her mouth in astonishment.

This man had just claimed her trophy.