Montmartre stayed far longer than Thomas had expected – he was still there once they'd gone through one reading of the revised script and Thomas had sent everyone he didn't need on set that day home, while everyone else had been sent to make-up and wardrobe.

"Will you be staying the entire day?" Thomas asked, walking up to him. "I'm not sure that'll be what's best for the production."

"Oh, I was just about to leave," Montmartre replied with a sly grin. "Just have to speak to your little Miss Allen for a moment and I'll be off."

Thomas narrowed his eyes. "Whatever for? She's not the one you need to be worried about."

"Is that a threat?" Montmartre asked, an eyebrow raised. "Because threatening me would be unwise."

"Not a threat," Thomas said, shaking his head. "I just don't think it's necessary—"

"That'll be for me to decide," Montmartre said and called a young PA over. "Darling, would you find out where I can find Danielle for me?"

"She was just headed to make-up," the young woman answered.

Montmartre turned back to Thomas. "I'll be on my way, then. And remember what I told you – I've got my eye on you. Any funny business, and you're done for."

"Noted."

It was rare for Danielle to be angry with Chris these days – their break-up had been the best decision either of them had ever made, and they were much better off as friends – but, right now, he was truly getting on her nerves. Unfortunately for her, she couldn't very well tell him that unless she wanted the make-up artist who was currently applying her lipstick to be immensely cross with her.

"I understand that you and Hunt have some less-than-ideal history, but I think you being an asshole isn't going to make anything better," Chris went on and Danielle badly wanted to roll her eyes.

She wasn't the asshole, it was Hunt! He was the one who didn't trust her, and he was the one who had been such an ass this morning! Then again, Chris didn't know the half of it, so she couldn't very well blame him for assuming she was the bad guy here.

"Can you at least try to be civil?"

Danielle huffed, then nodded – resulting in an exasperated sigh from the make-up artist.

"Could you be still for just a few more minutes? We're almost done and—"

She was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by Viktor popping his head in. "Could I speak to Danielle for a moment? In private, please."

The make-up artist groaned. "I really can't do my job around here, can I?"

"What was that?" Viktor asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Nothing, Mr Montmartre," she said and motioned for the other people in the room to follow her out.

Once Viktor and Danielle were alone, he pulled up a chair and sat down right in front of her.

"What now?" Danielle asked. "You've got Hunt. Wasn't that what you wanted?"

He nodded. "I do, and it was. But I don't trust either of you, and I just want to make sure we're clear on how this works."

"Yeah, yeah. We finish this movie, we don't cause any problems, you don't publish the photos."

Viktor pursed his lips. "Well, yes, but there are other things that I want."

"Other… things?" Danielle asked, though the look in his eyes told her everything she needed to know.

He smirked. "You look awfully pretty in that dress, Danielle."

A shudder ran down her spine. "T-thank you." She cleared her throat. "I really think I should be getting my hair and make-up done, though. We wouldn't want to get behind schedule."

"Oh, we're already behind schedule," Viktor argued, stopping her from getting up by putting his hand on her shoulder to push her back down into the chair. "You'll want to agree to anything I say, Danielle, or your precious Hunt will pay the price." He moved his hand upwards to brush her cheek, and she had to stop herself from clenching her jaw. "I'll see you soon."

And with that, he left, and a few moments later, everyone else was back inside and getting to work again. She didn't notice much of what was going on around her, however, as a plan was forming in her mind. A ludicrously stupid, dangerous plan – but a plan nonetheless. Danielle knew what she had to do to. And she was prepared to do it.

But, first things first, she had to get through this day of shooting.

Not long after Viktor's departure her – and Chris' – make-up was done, and they were sent back to the soundstage, where it became immediately clear to Danielle that filming with Hunt would be entirely different to filming with Phelps. He'd always had a million people around, while now the space seemed much emptier. Only she, Chris, and the other two actors that were needed for the scenes today were present, as well as minimal crew. It reminded her very much of when they'd filmed Centaurus Lost together – except, this time, they weren't quite co-workers. This time, Hunt was essentially her boss, and she was just an actress. Still, the familiarity of it all was somewhat soothing.

"You seem less tense than earlier," Chris remarked as they made their way to the set.

Danielle shrugged. "Just getting into the right mindset for work is all."

"Right. I'm sure it's got nothing to do with the fact that you just realised you missed working with Hunt."

"I did not—" Chris shot her a look, and she rolled her eyes. "Fine. I do miss it, but I'm not working with him, anyway. He gets to boss me around this time."

He raised an eyebrow. "If I recall correctly, you like being bossed around under the right circumstances."

"Shut up!" Danielle blushed. "And it's not like that."

Chris chuckled. "If you say so. But, don't forget, I've known you for quite a while now, and your kinks aren't the only thing I'm privy to."

Someone cleared their throat behind them, and Danielle's blush deepened upon realising that it was Hunt.

"Hunt! We were just…er…"

He made a dismissive hand motion. "As interesting as your activities in the bedroom may be to the tabloids, I do not need – nor want – to hear about them."

"Duly noted, Mr Hunt," Chris said with a shit-eating grin that Danielle would have gladly slapped off his face. He inclined his head towards the set. "I take it you wanted to start with the scene in which Jack and Maeve finally meet face-to-face?"

Hunt nodded. "That was the idea. Now, take your marks, everyone, we don't have all day."

Thomas knew the moment Danielle walked on set that he would have to have a talk with the costume department. She looked stunning – of course she did – but there was much less fabric and a lot more exposed skin than he would have liked to see on her. Because, frankly, there was absolutely no reason for her to be wearing a glorified bathing suit made of some material that he assumed was meant to look like armour. He'd never had to fight armies of orcs before, but he was fairly certain that an experienced swordswoman – such as her character supposedly was – would not choose to do so in such a flimsy costume.

Unfortunately, there was no time today to change anything about it. Then again, there was only very little fighting going to be taking place in this scene, so perhaps there was a way to salvage it.

"One more moment," Thomas told Danielle and Chris once they'd taken their places, then turned to the closest production assistant he could find. "You! I need some type of cloak for Maeve to wear, could you check with wardrobe if that's possible?"

"Of course, Mr Hunt," he said and walked off to radio someone.

"A cloak?" Danielle asked. "I've never worn a cloak in this scene before."

Thomas raised an eyebrow. "Are you questioning me?"

"Yes, I am! I'll be fighting Chris, and a cloak would only get in the way. Why would my character be wearing one?" She shook her head. "She would know this, seeing as she's one of the most skilled swordfighters in all the land!"

"But she's not expecting to have to fight, is she? No one has visited her cave since she has disappeared, and she's secured it as much as she could – why would she be prepared for a fight?"

She huffed. "It still doesn't make sense."

"Danielle, you and I both know that your costume is ridiculous. If you have any better ideas, please do tell."

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and narrowed her eyes, then eventually sighed and nodded. "Well, I suppose a cave in the mountains could be quite cold… and Maeve would probably be wearing something to keep her from freezing to death."

"Don't forget that I'm the director here and you're—" He stopped when he realised that she'd actually agreed with him and cleared his throat. "Yes, exactly. I'll be talking to the costume designers about what to do with your costume and, next time, we shouldn't have such a problem anymore."

A short moment later, the production assistant returned with a black cloak and, after getting Thomas' approval, gave it to Danielle. She put it on, then looked up, inclining her head. "Better?"

"It'll do," Thomas said. "Now, places, everyone!"

Chris, who had been watching them from behind the cave wall, returned to his position out of frame, and Danielle sat back down by the fire.

"And… action!"

It had been a long time since Thomas had last seen Danielle at work but, lord, she was still as captivating as ever. The moment the cameras started rolling, every trace of the person he knew had disappeared, and she had fully become Maeve, the cave-dwelling swordswoman from a fantastical land. And, he had to admit, her chemistry with Chris was incredible – but nothing could have prepared him for the moment her character began suspecting his of having been sent by the orc king and grabbed her sword.

Thomas had never seen her carry out a choreographed fight before, and he was surprised to see her do it so effortlessly – even with the added challenge of the fluttering cloak. She was mesmerising to watch as she attacked and parried and turned, the black fabric hiding her costume revealing tantalising glimpses of her skin every so often. Eventually, Danielle had the point of her sword at Chris' throat, forcing him down to kneel in front of her, and Thomas got the sudden urge to loosen his tie.

Get a grip, Thomas, he told himself. It's not like being held at her sword's point is such an enticing thought.

The shiver that ran down his spine, however, insisted that some part of him did think it was, indeed, a rather enticing thought.