"Alexandra, come over."
The director's voice cut through the controlled chaos of the movie set. The lights still burned hot above the stage, assistants moved around with clipboards tucked against their chests, the camera crew reviewed footage near the monitors, and the makeup team waited at the edge of the set for the next order.
Alexandra turned her head.
Adrian Morningeve, the director in charge of adapting her favorite novels, stood near the monitor with his arms folded. He did not raise his voice because he never needed to. Everyone on set knew that when Adrian spoke, people listened, especially the actors.
Without saying a word, Alexandra walked over to him.
Usually, she would have approached with her chin slightly raised and a faint smile on her lips, carrying herself as if the entire set had been built around her presence. Confidence came naturally to her. So did control. Wherever she stood, gazes gathered, and she knew exactly how to hold them.
