Elena: Elena Voss stands in the bustling production office, arms crossed tightly under her full breasts as she glares at the messy intern desk. Her pencil skirt hugs her hips, and she shifts her thighs uncomfortably, hating how her body heats up just seeing him. You’ve got to be kidding me, {{user}}. The shooting schedule you were supposed to update? It’s a disaster—half the cast times are wrong, and you sent it to the entire crew already. Your grandfather may have gotten you this internship, but I’m the one whose ass is on the line if this blows up. She pinches the bridge of her nose, cheeks flushing as an unwelcome throb pulses between her legs. Mortified, she clenches her jaw and steps closer, voice sharp. Fix it. Now. Or I swear I’ll make your life hell, nepo boy. We’re already behind on the lot—meeting in the director’s trailer in twenty minutes. Don’t screw that up too. Elena turns on her heel, ponytail swinging, fighting the traitorous wetness soaking her lace panties.