Words: 3k.
The restaurant was classy. Soft lighting, streamlined décor, the sort of place where Hollywood's A-list could dine without being mobbed by paparazzi. Alex had reserved a private room, so their discussion wouldn't be disturbed.
Scarlett sat across from him, legs crossed, hands resting casually on the table as she glanced at the menu. "Fancy place," she noted. "Should I be worried about a ten-page wine list?"
Alex smirked, setting his menu down. "Relax. I'm not that pretentious."
Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "Aston Martin, private dining room, designer watch…" She gave him a teasing smirk. "You sure about that?"
He chuckled. "Alright, fine. Maybe I have my moments."
She grinned, satisfied. The waiter arrived, and they quickly placed their orders. Scarlett ordered steak and roasted vegetables, and Alex ordered a Wagyu burger with truffle fries.
Once the waiter left, Alex leaned back, watching her. "So, how was the audition?"
Scarlett sighed, resting her chin on her hand. "Eh. Not great."
Alex arched an eyebrow. "Bad director?"
She shrugged. "Not bad, just… weird vibes. He kept asking me to redo lines, but not giving much direction. Kept saying he wanted 'something different' but couldn't explain what that was."
Alex nodded knowingly. "Yeah, that sounds like a director who doesn't actually know what they want."
Scarlett exhaled. "Exactly! Like, give me something to work with."
Alex said. "Well, if it makes you feel better, I would've just cast you immediately."
Scarlett rolled her eyes, but she couldn't fight the small smile playing on her lips. "Flattery again?"
He shrugged. "I mean it. You've got talent, Johansson. I saw it firsthand on Lost in Translation shooting. You weren't just coasting through scenes... you brought something extra."
She tilted her head, genuinely curious. "What do you mean?"
Alex leaned forward slightly, his gaze steady. "Most actors, especially new ones, rely too much on the script. They say their lines, hit their marks, but that's it. You?" He smirked. "You listen."
Scarlett blinked. "Listen?"
He nodded. "Yeah. You don't just wait for your turn to speak. You react. You take in the moment, process it, and then respond. It makes everything feel natural. That's why people connect with you on-screen."
Scarlett stared at him for a moment, taken aback. Most directors just gave generic praise—"Great job, nice take, let's do another." But this? This was different. It was specific. Thoughtful.
She swallowed, suddenly feeling a little warm. "Huh. No one's put it like that before."
Alex smirked. "Guess I'm full of surprises."
Scarlett rolled her eyes. "You love hearing yourself talk, don't you?"
Alex chuckled. "Absolutely."
Their food arrived, giving Scarlett a chance to compose herself. The conversation shifted to lighter topics—funny on-set stories, nightmare auditions, the weirdest fan encounters they'd ever had.
Midway through their meal, Scarlett took a sip of her drink and rested her elbow on the table. "Alright, enough about me. Let's talk about you."
Alex gave a slight nod. "Ask away."
Scarlett tapped her fingers against her glass. "You're twenty-five, running a production empire, writing bestsellers, directing, producing. You are basically doing everything. So… what's the endgame?"
Alex leaned back, considering the question. "Honestly? I don't know if there is an endgame." (There's one, but that's for later.)
Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "You don't have some big master plan?"
He shook his head. "I mean, yeah, I've got goals. But I don't see this as something that ends. There's always another story to tell, another project to build. I guess I just want to keep creating things that actually matter."
Scarlett studied him. "That's… kinda cool."
Alex smirked. "Just kinda?"
She shrugged. "Eh, don't wanna inflate your ego too much."
He chuckled, shaking his head. "Fair enough."
Scarlett took another bite of her steak before pointing her fork at him. "Alright, so if there's no endgame, what's the next big thing? You just wrapped Lost in Translation. So, what's next?"
Alex wiped his mouth with a napkin before leaning back in his chair. "Well, I do have something in the works."
She arched an eyebrow. "Oh? Something big?"
Alex exhaled, swirling his drink. "Huge." He glanced up, meeting her gaze. "I'm writing a trilogy. Well, a couple to be exact."
Scarlett's eyes widened slightly. "A trilogy? Like, a connected story over three films? That's kinda big."
He nodded. "Yup. Something that's never been done before on this scale. A high-stakes, globe-trotting action thriller. Big set pieces, espionage, practical stunts... none of that CGI-heavy nonsense. Real action, real stakes."
Scarlett leaned forward, intrigued. "Okay, now I'm curious. What's it called?"
Alex smirked. "Mission: Impossible."
Scarlett blinked. "...That's a badass title."
"I know, right?" Alex grinned. "It's about a top-tier covert operative, Ethan Hunt. He works for a black ops division called the IMF—Impossible Mission Force. They handle the missions that governments can't acknowledge. That's all I can say for now. And there's this character... anti-villain, supporting with small screen time, but an important character. I want you to do it. If you are not too busy."
Scarlett stared at him, her fork frozen halfway to her mouth. She blinked once. Then twice.
"You want me in that?"
Alex smirked, leaning back casually. "Yup."
Scarlett slowly set her fork down, eyes narrowing. "Okay. What's the catch?"
Alex chuckled. "Why does there have to be a catch?"
Scarlett gave him that look, the kind that said I wasn't born yesterday. She leaned back, arms crossed, one perfectly shaped eyebrow arched in suspicion.
"You don't just randomly cast someone just like that. Especially not in Hollywood. Wait! You did cast me like that. But this is different. Probably a much bigger budget than Lost in Translation. So, again… what's the catch?"
Alex smirked, swirling his drink before taking a slow sip. "No catch. You're just that talented."
Scarlett narrowed her eyes. "Mhm. Flattering and vague. Try again."
Alex chuckled, setting his glass down. "Alright. You want the real answer?"
Scarlett tilted her head. "I'd love the real answer."
Alex leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You're talented. No question. But you're nineteen, fresh on the scene, and mostly known for playing the quiet, introspective type. Which, don't get me wrong, you kill in those roles. But if you want longevity in this industry? You need range. You need to show people that you can do everything... action, drama, thriller, even comedy."
Scarlett considered that for a moment, mulling over his words. She hated to admit it, but… he had a point.
"And you're going to… what? Personally make sure I get that experience?" she asked, skeptical but intrigued.
Alex smirked. "Pretty much."
Scarlett snorted. "Wow. Generous."
He shrugged. "It's not charity. It's smart casting. You have presence. Even when you're doing nothing, people are watching you. That's rare. And I'd be an idiot to let someone else scoop you up first."
Scarlett blinked, caught slightly off guard by the genuine confidence in his voice. He wasn't just hyping her up for the sake of it—he believed in what he was saying.
"…Huh."
Alex smirked. "That's all you got? Huh?"
Scarlett rolled her eyes. "Oh, shut up. Let me process."
Alex chuckled, leaning back in his seat. "Take your time. Offer's on the table."
Scarlett toyed with her fork, a small smile playing at her lips. "And what if I say no?"
Alex tilted his head. "Then I spend the next two years regretting not locking you down for the role."
Scarlett inhaled sharply. 'Damn it, why is he like this?'
"…And maybe," Alex added, his smirk deepening, "I'd just have to find another way to keep you around."
Her stomach did an unwelcome little flip.
She took a sip of her drink, trying to act unfazed. "You flirt with everyone like this?"
Alex grinned. "Nope. Just the ones worth flirting with."
Scarlett groaned. "You're insufferable."
"Am I?"
'Ah! So sexy smile. Wait, can't let myself get pulled into that insanely sexy smile. Nope. No sir.' Scarlett let out a dramatic sigh, swirling her drink in her hand. "You are so full of yourself."
Alex smirked, resting his chin on his hand. "And yet, here you are, having dinner with me."
She narrowed her eyes playfully. "That was a momentary lapse in judgment."
Alex chuckled, taking a sip of his drink. "A lapse you're enjoying."
Scarlett opened her mouth, then shut it. 'Damn it.' He wasn't wrong, but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of admitting it. Instead, she leaned back in her chair, tapping her fingers against the table.
"Fine," she said, tilting her head. "Let's get back on track. What about outside of work? What do you do when you're not running an empire?"
Alex considered that for a moment, then shrugged. "I play guitar. Paint a little."
Scarlett blinked. "Wait, seriously?"
He was amused by her reaction. "Yeah. Surprised?"
She nodded. "A little. I mean, I figured you were all about business and film. Didn't expect the whole 'tortured artist' vibe."
Alex chuckled. "It's just something I do to unwind. Helps clear my head."
Scarlett leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. "Okay, but how good are we talking here? Like, 'plays Wonderwall at parties' good? Or actually good?"
Alex smirked. "I can hold my own."
Scarlett arched an eyebrow. "That's vague."
Alex shrugged. "Guess you'll have to find out for yourself."
She squinted at him. "Do you ever give straight answers?"
"Nope."
Scarlett groaned, but she was smiling.
"Alright, fine," she said. "What about painting? What do you paint?"
Alex exhaled, running a hand through his hair. "Depends. Sometimes landscapes, sometimes abstract stuff. Or portrait. Whatever I feel like."
Scarlett tilted her head. "Huh. Didn't peg you for the artsy type. I mean, you are but... I can't imagine you as a painting type guy."
Alex gave her a slight nod with an eyebrow raised. "Well, you barely know me, Johansson."
Scarlett studied him for a moment, then leaned back. "You love being mysterious, don't you?"
Alex chuckled. "I prefer selectively interesting."
Scarlett rolled her eyes. "Right. Because that doesn't sound pretentious at all."
Alex grinned. "Coming from the girl who probably has an entire script's worth of deep, introspective monologues stored in her Notes app?"
Scarlett gasped, placing a hand over her chest in mock offense. "Excuse me! That is..." She paused. "…Actually, yeah, that's fair."
He chuckled. "Thought so."
'Damn! He's good.' Scarlett shook her head, taking another sip of her drink. "Alright, so you play guitar, you paint, you produce blockbuster films, and you casually launch a Hollywood empire at twenty-five. What can't you do?"
Alex smirked. "I cannot bake. I can cook almost anything, but baking... Nope."
Scarlett laughed. "Really?"
"Really. Last time I tried, the smoke alarm went off, and I ended up bribing my assistant to never speak of it again."
Scarlett giggled, picturing Alex Wilson—powerful, composed, effortlessly cool—staring in horror at a burnt, inedible disaster in his kitchen. "I need to see this."
Alex shook his head. "Not happening."
She grinned. "I'll find a way."
He raised an eyebrow. "You always this persistent?"
She smirked. "Only when I want something."
Alex leaned forward, his gaze locked on hers. "And what do you want, Scarlett?"
Scarlett's breath hitched. 'Damn it.' There he went again, lowering his voice just enough to make it dangerous.
She quickly took another sip of her drink, forcing herself to sound unaffected. "Right now? Dessert."
Alex chuckled, leaning back. "Smart answer."
Scarlett smirked, relieved that she managed to deflect. Barely.
The waiter returned, clearing their plates and bringing over a dessert menu. Scarlett skimmed it, her lips curving into a small smile.
"Oooh, they have molten lava cake," she said, eyes lighting up.
Alex smirked. "You're a chocolate person."
Scarlett nodded. "Absolutely."
Alex handed his menu to the waiter. "We'll take two of those."
She raised an eyebrow. "Not even gonna check the other options?"
He smirked. "Nope. I trust your taste."
Scarlett stared at him, then shook her head with a chuckle. "You are something else."
He grinned. "I get that a lot."
Scarlett laughed, shaking her head. This was dangerous. He was too smooth, too confident, and way too good at making her feel like the only person in the room.
And the worst part?
She liked it.
…A little too much.
The conversation flowed effortlessly between Alex and Scarlett as they waited for dessert. The teasing, the playful challenges... it all felt easy. Natural. But under the surface, there was something else. A slow burn neither of them fully acknowledged but both of them felt.
Scarlett, resting her chin on her hand, smirked. "Okay, real talk... if you weren't in Hollywood, what would you be doing?"
Alex exhaled, tilting his head in thought. "Probably playing guitar in some shitty bar. Maybe painting full-time. Or construction work while breaking my bones."
Scarlett narrowed her eyes, analyzing him. "Nah. You'd still find a way to be in charge of something."
Alex chuckled. "You think?"
She nodded. "Oh, yeah. You have big 'control freak' energy."
Alex smirked. "And you have 'will argue about anything' energy."
Scarlett gasped dramatically. "I do not."
Alex arched an eyebrow. "Oh, really? Let's test that. Pineapple on pizza—yes or no?"
Scarlett squinted. "...I feel like this is a trap."
Alex grinned. "Answer carefully."
Scarlett groaned. "Fine. Yes. It's good."
Alex leaned back with a victorious smirk. "See? You're already getting defensive."
Scarlett pointed a finger at him. "Because I knew you were setting me up!"
Alex chuckled, shaking his head. "So predictable."
Scarlett scoffed, crossing her arms. "Unbelievable."
The waiter arrived with their molten lava cakes, momentarily distracting her. She picked up her spoon, taking a bite and immediately let out a satisfied hum.
Alex smirked. "That good?"
Scarlett nodded, swallowing. "Oh yeah. Chocolate is holy."
Alex took a bite of his own and let out a small, impressed nod. "Alright. I see the appeal."
She grinned. "Told you."
The moment felt light, fun, and simple. But outside their private dining room?
Someone was watching.
...
[Meanwhile...]
Jason Winston was a pro. Not the kind of paparazzo who camped outside clubs, waiting for drunk celebrities to stumble into their Ubers. No, he was strategic. He played the long game, blended in, and struck when no one expected it.
Tonight? He had walked into this high-end restaurant hoping for a lead on someone, a studio executive, a model, maybe a politician sneaking around with a mistress. But instead, he found gold.
Jason sat in the open dining area, dressed like the wealthy clientele around him... expensive suit, Rolex on his wrist, posture relaxed like he belonged. To anyone watching, he was just another rich guy enjoying a solo dinner. (Everything he was wearing was fake or copy.)
But then…
His eyes landed on Scarlett Johansson.
She had just left the private dining area, making her way toward the restroom. She looked effortlessly beautiful in that midnight-blue dress, her hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders.
Jason's mind raced.
Scarlett was rising fast in Hollywood, and her name had been buzzing ever since Alex Wilson cast her in Lost in Translation. The movie was already gaining traction even before its release, and she was being called the next big thing.
So… what the hell was she doing here?
In a private dining room?
At the same time Alex Wilson was reportedly in town?
Jason's instincts screamed.
'No way. No freaking way.'
He adjusted his hidden camera, disguised as a button on his suit, and waited.
A few minutes later, Scarlett walked out of the restroom, fixing the strap of her dress as she walked back toward the private room. Jason immediately stood up, smoothing out his suit like he was just stretching after a long meal. He kept his eyes around, luckily there weren't any waiters around to stop him.
He followed.
Scarlett reached the door and opened it and that's when Jason saw him.
Alex Wilson.
Sitting across from her, completely at ease, one hand lazily swirling his drink, the other resting casually on the table. Jason had been in this game long enough to know when a man was comfortable with the woman he was with.
Scarlett went inside, and just before she shut the door, Jason acted.
He adjusted his hidden camera, smoothed his expression, and casually stepped forward, pushing the door open a little more as he entered.
"Oh, damn, my bad." He let out a light chuckle, playing the part of a confused, slightly tipsy diner. "Thought this was the way to the lounge."
Scarlett frowned, startled by the intrusion. Alex, on the other hand, didn't even flinch. He simply raised an eyebrow, his expression unreadable.
Jason held up a hand, all apologetic charm. "Sorry, sorry. Didn't mean to barge in." He flashed a sheepish smile, pretending not to recognize either of them and quickly stepped back out.
He was in the room for barely five seconds.
But it was enough.
Enough for his hidden camera to snap multiple shots in rapid succession.
Click. Scarlett standing in the doorway, her body slightly angled toward Alex.
Click. Alex looking up at her, his expression unreadable but focused.
Click. The soft glow of light making the whole scene look dangerously intimate.
Jason walked away, heart pounding with excitement.
This?
This was going to break the internet.
Jason smirked as he made his way back to his table, already planning his headline.
Tomorrow, the world would know...
"Hollywood's Most Eligible Bachelor Taken? Alex Wilson's Secret Date with Scarlett Johansson!"
Oh yeah.
Promotion was definitely in order.
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[6 advance chs] + [6 chs of Two and a Half Men] [All chs available for all tiers]
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AN: SJ will get a total of 5 chs including this one.