Chapter 20: Absolute Control
As she spoke, Nicole opened the script and pointed directly to the scene between Ben (Mike) and Christine—the bed scene.
At this point, it was no longer a hint.
William was certain Nicole wasn't implying anything—she was stating it outright.
"Miss Kidman," William asked calmly,
"what exactly are you trying to do?"
Nicole leaned closer, her face slowly approaching his.
William wasn't inexperienced—neither in this life nor the last—but at this moment, he couldn't quite grasp her true intentions.
"Practice my acting, of course," she replied softly.
"I've never played an amnesiac wife before."
As she spoke, Nicole shifted, straddling him with fluid ease.
She leaned close to his ear, her voice dropping into a whisper, warm and deliberate.
Then, teasingly, she brushed her lips against his ear.
A shiver ran through William's body.
No wonder Cruise had been under her spell for eleven years, he thought dryly.
She was dangerously compelling.
Still, this clearly wasn't how things were supposed to go.
The butterfly effect had struck—somewhere along the way, he'd stolen another man's fate.
Since she was clearly willing, William had no intention of resisting.
His hands rested on her slim waist.
Even through the fabric of her evening dress, he could feel the warmth and softness beneath.
Western women might not age slowly, but when they were at their peak—
they truly were radiant.
---
Later, they lay together on the large bed.
Nicole absentmindedly twirled a strand of her golden hair, tracing lazy circles across William's chest.
She had to admit—his physique had surprised her.
She'd assumed a filmmaker like him wouldn't have time to train.
Yet beneath his clothes was a body every bit as defined as those of the action stars dominating the box office.
The kind that looked lean dressed—and powerful undressed.
"I should head back," William said, lifting the silk blanket.
"I still need to arrange the shoot tomorrow."
Nicole didn't stop him.
She propped her head on one hand, watching him dress, a faint smile playing on her lips.
If she had to score his performance—
it would be 11 out of 10.
William finished dressing and turned back to look at her.
She lay there beneath a thin silk sheet, relaxed and composed.
"Stay in touch," he said evenly.
"I'll contact you once filming starts."
With that, he turned to leave—efficient, almost cold.
"William."
Nicole's voice stopped him.
He paused at the door, jacket in hand, and looked back.
"Yes?"
She hesitated, then shook her head lightly.
"Nothing. Never mind."
Nicole had wanted to ask William what their relationship was now.
But she was far too experienced to ask the question outright.
Even without voicing it, she could already read the answer from William's every move after the fact.
A smart woman never forces clarity in moments like this—because doing so only seals off her escape routes.
As long as the question isn't dragged into the open, there's still room to maneuver.
And time, she believed, was always on her side.
William, for his part, had no idea what was going through Nicole's mind.
And even if he did, he wouldn't have cared much.
Acting was an actor's professional skill.
A future Oscar winner—or even an eventual legend—wasn't enough to slow his stride.
And even if he hadn't figured out what Nicole truly wanted from sleeping with him, he was certain of one thing:
It wasn't love.
And it definitely wasn't because she thought he was handsome.
Hollywood did have its share of hopeless romantics.
Nicole Kidman was absolutely not one of them.
---
Santa Monica — William's apartment
William unlocked the door and stepped inside.
As usual, Katya was sitting in the living room with a book.
The moment she saw him, she stood and walked over.
"You smell like perfume," she said flatly.
"So—did you sleep with your female lead?"
William ignored the question.
"What's going on? You even forgot to call me an English bastard."
He noticed she was behaving a little differently tonight.
"Tch. So you're admitting it by not denying it?" Katya scoffed.
"Figures. Directors always end up sleeping with actresses."
William didn't bother responding.
He went into the kitchen and poured himself a glass of water.
"Hey," Katya continued, shifting back into business mode.
"While you were out enjoying yourself, I went over the company accounts.
We've got a little over nine hundred thousand in liquid cash right now—but with Before I Go to Sleep's shooting plan, that money won't last a month.
Shouldn't we think about bringing in investors?"
"No need," William replied calmly.
"We'll have more money coming in."
He took a sip of water.
"I'm planning to partner with Vivid Entertainment to set up a new production company—one specifically for Valley films.
We provide the people, the ideas, and execution.
They provide the funding.
Cash flow won't be an issue."
Katya rested her chin on her hand, thinking it over.
"Isn't that risky?" she said slowly.
The Soldier's Wife and the Black Neighbor was a hit—but that could've been luck.
If future Valley films don't sell, Umbrella Entertainment could spiral into a financial crisis fast.
"I don't get why you're so unwilling to share.
Bringing in outside investors wouldn't necessarily affect your control."
William looked at her steadily.
"This isn't about control, Katya. You don't understand Hollywood.
Money here never comes without strings."
He'd spent his previous life circling the industry's outer rings—he knew exactly how deeply capital could interfere with a director's authority.
It was already May.
There were only seven months left until the Nikkei crash.
He didn't have time to let control issues derail his schedule.
He needed absolute authority over his films—only that way could he manage capital rotation precisely.
Before I Go to Sleep had to be finished before year's end, then submitted to Sundance early next year.
That was his opening shot.
Nothing was allowed to interfere.
He took a deep breath and looked at Katya.
"I understand your concerns. But trust me—leave professional judgment to professionals.
Your job is to keep the books clean."
Katya shrugged.
"Fine. You're the boss."
Then she added, almost casually:
"Oh—by the way, this is something Ramirez asked me to pass on to you."
William looked at the document she handed him.
Printed clearly on the cover were the words:
My Latin Lover