Danielle and Hunt decided it was better to have their conversation away from the rest of the crew. After all, they really couldn't be sure no one would get into the cabin and eavesdrop on them somehow. In fact, now that they were thinking about it, they wouldn't have put it past Montmartre to bug their rooms. So they went on a walk through the Scottish countryside together, which might have been romantic had it not been for their current circumstances.
"So…" Hunt began when they were out of earshot and sure nobody was following them. "My publicist told me your people wanted to have me cancelled by the internet."
Danielle rolled her eyes. Of course, whoever his publicist had spoken to – she was almost certain it would have been Ethan – would say that. It was true, after all. Everyone had told her she should just cut her losses and release the material herself. Worst case scenario was that some people wouldn't take her seriously for a few years, and that she might be called some names, but, realistically, she would have been just fine. But not Hunt. And as much as she had hated him at the time, she'd never wanted to ruin him like that. Still – she would have had every reason to. "Really shouldn't surprise you."
"It didn't," he admitted. "I was more surprised that you didn't listen."
Now, that stung. Did he really think so little of her? "Hunt, you know damn well that I would not do that to you." She sighed. "It's irrelevant now, anyway, isn't it?"
"I suppose so." Hunt looked down. "I must apologise for pushing you away, but Priya—"
"Don't worry about it, I get it. This must be your worst nightmare. I wouldn't blame you if you never wanted to see my face again after this film is done."
Hunt stopped walking then and put a hand on her shoulder to make her stop, too. She turned towards him, afraid of what he would say next. Would he tell her he couldn't bear to work with her at all? That the next weeks would be torture and that he'd rather drown himself than spend another second with her?
"Danielle," he said softly, and she knew she had worried for no reason. "That's the last thing I want."
She was close now, and Thomas leaned in even closer. Her lips were barely an inch away from his, and all he wanted was to kiss her again. Every fibre in his body screamed at him to just do it, but he knew he couldn't. Not now, not with everything on the line. Not with—
Suddenly, her lips were on his, and all coherent thoughts disappeared from his mind. He had no idea why he would ever deny himself this, and he wrapped his arms around Danielle, pulling her closer. She was warm and soft and wonderful and Thomas did not want to stop, but they had to, eventually. Danielle smiled at him, but there was a deep sadness behind that smile, and Thomas felt it, too. They both knew there were ways to deal with the headlines and the rumours. If Viktor never released the photos he still had, this could go away.
And, yet, looking at her now, Thomas was sure of one thing: He didn't want this for her. Separately seated at any event they'd attend, stolen glances when no one was paying attention, kisses behind closed doors – or somewhere in the Scottish Highlands all by themselves, whispered conversations for fear they could be overheard… Danielle deserved better than that. She deserved better than him.
"Don't even think about it," Danielle said, her expression changing from sadness to irritation.
"Think about what?" Thomas asked, wondering if she could read his mind.
She narrowed her eyes at him. "I know that look of yours. You're overthinking. About to tell me this can't happen, that we've got to keep our distance or whatever."
He wasn't. Truly. Every ounce of rationality in his body told him that would have been what was right, but that wasn't how he felt. And, equally as important, that wasn't how she felt, and Thomas knew that. He was sure of it.
"Actually," he said, shaking his head, "I think we need to find a way to publicise this that doesn't ruin either of our careers."