AN: Lacking powerstones guys.
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[Two Days Later] [Titan HQ] [Main Office] [10:37 AM]
Sunlight streamed through the tall glass windows, painting streaks of gold across the polished table in Alex's office. The morning hum of the city was muffled behind reinforced glass, replaced by the low click of Rachel's heels and the rustle of folders as she approached his desk.
Alex sat at the head of the room, sleeves rolled, sipping black coffee. His tablet blinked with unread reports, but he set it aside the moment Rachel walked in.
She placed two thick files on his desk.
"First up," she said, tapping the top folder, "official documents and internal paperwork for the rebrand. Wilson Studios is now Titan Studios. Public rollout starts next week."
Alex raised an eyebrow, flipping it open. "No complications?"
"None," Rachel said, walking around to lean slightly against the edge of his desk. "You owned it outright. And most people already associate your name with Titan. This just makes it official. Easier for investors. Cleaner for distribution. One brand, one empire."
He nodded as he skimmed through the first few pages. "Looks all good. Thanks, Rach."
Rachel pushed the second folder toward him. This one had color-coded tabs and a Titan-red label clipped to the side.
"And here's the big one," she said. "Location permits for Mr. & Mrs. Smith."
Alex looked up. "Already?"
Rachel smirked. "You're not the only one with connections, Alex. I pulled a few strings and made some quiet calls. Every shooting location you listed is locked. All approved, insured, and ready for pre-production."
He opened the folder and scanned the permits, each one stamped and signed. The layout included high-level notes on local crew requirements, transportation costs, and minor legal quirks specific to each region.
"This is why I love you," he said, looking up at her. "This would've taken other studios six months."
"Well, as long as I get my dosage of kisses and dessert," Rachel said. "Besides, I want this movie to go off without a hitch since we are tight on time and schedule."
Alex leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on her. "I can already envision the trailer in my mind. Guns, passion, chaos, and two lovers who can't decide whether to kill or kiss each other."
Rachel reached down and slid a third folder across the desk. This one was slimmer than the others but marked with a bold silver label that read: Audition Roster – Mr. & Mrs. Smith.
Alex raised an eyebrow and took it, flipping it open as Rachel moved to pour herself a glass of cold water from the carafe by the windows.
"These are the finalized names," she said as she sipped. "Everyone on that list has signed the NDA, cleared the confidentiality clause, and confirmed their audition time slots. First round begins tomorrow at nine sharp."
Alex flipped through the pages. Headshots, attached résumés, quick performance summaries, and a personal note beside each. He paused on a few familiar names.
"Okay, walk me through this," he said, eyes scanning the first few.
Rachel walked back toward the desk, glass in hand, and leaned slightly against the corner again. "So, with Angelina already locked in as Jane. Now we just need her match."
Alex nodded slowly. "Alright. Give me the shortlist. Who are we testing for, John Smith?"
Rachel flipped her tablet open, synced it to the screen behind him, and tapped a few times. Headshots appeared on the monitor, clean and side-by-side in a 3x3 grid.
"Top names, based on profile, acting range, physical readiness, and compatibility with Jolie's screen presence."
She pointed as she listed them.
"Chris Pine. Charismatic. Can do suave and unhinged. Chemistry tests from past roles show he adapts quickly to strong female leads."
"Oscar Isaac. Deep presence. Slightly more grounded, but can swing from charming to lethal in a heartbeat. My gut says he'll surprise you in a close-quarters scene."
"Henry Golding. Elegant, smooth delivery, with just enough edge to pull off the spy dynamic. Might lack some of the raw grit, but he's a strong screen partner."
Alex tapped the tablet to scroll.
"Jake Gyllenhaal. High emotional range. Has the intensity and unpredictability. Might bring a darker energy, but it could play well if we want the story to lean into obsession and conflict."
Rachel nodded. "He's got a good read scheduled. Wants to try the rooftop fight scene from the revised draft."
"Alright. Who else?"
Rachel turned the page. "Sebastian Stan. Came through our radar after a smaller campaign, but the casting tape was electric. Full audition booked, physical stunt rehearsal included."
Alex smiled faintly. "He's underrated. Has that tightly coiled charm. Keep an eye on him."
Rachel tapped her tablet again, and one more name appeared.
"You gotta be kidding me," He said as he looked at the name and then back toward Rachel.
Alex stared at the screen.
The name glowed at the center of the grid like a punchline delivered too early. His name. Clean. Bold. Underlined in silver.
Alex Wilson
He blinked once, then turned slowly to face Rachel. "You put my name in the audition roster?"
Rachel didn't flinch. She sipped her water, then calmly set the glass down on the edge of his desk. "Yep."
Alex leaned back in his chair, eyes locked on hers. "C'mon, now. Really?"
Rachel crossed her arms and lifted a brow. "Do you want me to list the reasons why you're the obvious choice? Because I made a slide deck."
"You made a deck?" he said, deadpan.
She turned her tablet toward him with a flick, revealing the title screen of a fully designed presentation. It read: Why Alex Wilson Is the Best Damn Mr. Smith
He stared. "You actually made one."
"Damn right I did."
Alex exhaled, shook his head, and looked back up at the monitor. His name still sat there, nestled between polished professionals and Hollywood's elite.
"I don't act," he said finally.
Rachel scoffed. "You don't act yet. But that's the difference. You don't need to pretend. You've lived the kind of tension this role demands. High-stakes pressure, the weight of reputation, public scrutiny, underground chaos, the whole damn thing. You walk into a room and half the world watches to see what you'll do. That's presence."
He gave her a look. "You rehearsed that speech, didn't you?"
Rachel smirked. "In the shower, over breakfast. Oh, and again in the elevator... twice."
Alex rubbed his temple, still staring at the screen. "So let me get this straight. You want me to audition, opposite Angelina Jolie, in a spy-romance-action movie that already has the highest expectations of the quarter? You do know, I'm the director, right?"
"Not just an audition," Rachel said, stepping closer. "I want you to take the role. As for directing, you know the ropes very well, Mr. Wilson. Don't try to shift the topic."
He laughed under his breath. "Rachel…"
She circled the desk and stopped in front of him, both hands flat on the wood. Her voice dropped to something low and serious.
"Listen to me. You already own the studio. You already built the brand. You are the face behind the camera. But this… this would make you the face on the screen. You're not some unknown with a dream. You're a force. You're the golden boy of modern entertainment, and every time you appear in public, fans lose their damn minds. And you have already seen the reviews of your steamy shoot with Angelina. You don't even need to pretend chemistry. It's already there."
Alex didn't answer right away. He looked past her, out the window, where the skyline stretched like a promise just waiting to be claimed.
She softened her tone. "Do you want the numbers? The projections?"
"Hit me."
Rachel stepped back, turned her tablet, and brought up the data. "With any of the current candidates, box office projection is sitting around 450-500 million global gross. Not bad. But if you take the lead, and this is your debut? We'll cross over 900 million easily, maybe more. Press circuits, streaming deals, international rights, re-releases. It becomes an event, not just a movie. People will buy tickets just to see how you perform."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "And what if I suck?"
Rachel didn't blink. "Then we edit. We reshoot. It's not like you are tight on budget. But you won't. You're too used to being under pressure. You've done live interviews with more poise than half the people on this list. You know how to carry a scene. You've already done it in real life. The only difference now is the script."
He stood slowly, walked over to the window, and stared out over the city below. The hum of traffic, the steel towers, the pulse of a world he helped reshape. The idea of standing in front of a camera wasn't new. But doing it for an audience that already expected perfection? That was something else.
Rachel came up behind him, her voice quiet now.
"You already jump out of planes, fight corporate spies, dodge stalkers, and run a billion-dollar empire in your spare time. Pretending to be a charming assassin married to Angelina Jolie might be the least stressful thing you do this year."
Alex chuckled. "That's one hell of a pitch."
She stepped beside him. "Do it. For the challenge. For the art. Or just to blow the minds of every studio exec who once said you'd never last."
"Wow! You know, you are very good with your words. Well, what the hell, let's do it," He said before taking a deep breath.
Rachel's eyes lit up the second Alex said yes. It wasn't just excitement. It was the deep, satisfied look of someone who had just toppled a skyscraper with a well-placed word. She stepped forward and gave his chest a playful shove.
"Took you long enough."
Alex laughed and turned back toward his desk. "Alright then. What's next? Rehearsals? Fittings? Media leaks we pretend are accidental? Maybe a couple of behind-the-scenes clips would do the trick. And why am I asking you? I have done this many times before. Ok. I'm kinda nervous. You take the lead on this one till I get my mojo back."
Rachel grabbed the top file again and flipped to a new section. "Since the lead roles are officially locked, we move into physical conditioning. You and Angelina are going to be the most dangerous married couple ever filmed. So, before anything else, you need to get your bodies in sync."
Alex arched a brow. "My body's already in shape. You know that."
Rachel gave him a quick once-over, then immediately looked away and cleared her throat. "Yes. You're... fine. Very fine. Almost... obnoxiously sculpted."
He smirked and was about to take off his shirt. "Almost?"
She shook her head and quickly grabbed his hand, stopping him. "We're not getting into that now. As much as I'd like to lick all over that sexy body and ride you like a stallion, I need to keep a stable mind and do my work. Got a lot on my schedule today with the perfume launch."
Alex leaned forward. "You brought it up."
Rachel powered on through, eyes on the documents. "Regardless, we still want both of you tuned. That means stamina drills, gun handling, close-quarters combat, joint coordination for stunt doubles, and a whole lot of weapons choreography."
"Ah! The sexy fight scenes," he smirked.
Rachel looked up. "Exactly. They have to feel effortless and real. When you're choking someone with a tie or flipping each other over a table, I want the audience to feel like you've done it before. Like you could do it again. At any moment."
Alex tilted his head. "You sound a little too passionate about that part."
"Yes. I want you to flip me on the dining table at my home and fuck me senseless, but that's not the point right now," Rachel babbled out her desires and then quickly shifted the conversation. "John will train both of you. He's already mapped out a program. You'll work on weapon familiarity, endurance control, trigger discipline, and hand-to-hand variations. Angelina starts today. You'll join her this afternoon."
"Ok. Cool," Alex said as he pulled her closer and kissed her. It was a small kiss. "Alright, I won't hold you back. I know you've got a lot of work to do. And as usual, don't push yourself too much."
Rachel gave him a little peck on his lips.
"I'll see you later, boss."
She pulled back, took her tab, and walked out.
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