Dunn and Deborah Johnson walked into the presidential suite, chatting and laughing.
The room was huge, but there was no sign of Milla Jovovich. Deborah had no choice but to settle Dunn on the sofa first. She wandered through a few rooms, calling out loudly, "Milla, where are you?"
Soon enough, a stunning woman wrapped in a big white bath towel came rushing out, her wet hair dripping. She looked a little flustered. "I'm still doing my makeup! When's Mr. Walker getting here?"
Deborah couldn't help but find it both funny and exasperating. Milla Jovovich was something else—hadn't even met Dunn yet, and she'd already showered and gotten herself ready.
"Take a look," Deborah said, nodding toward the sofa with a smirk.
Milla followed her gaze and froze.
If it wasn't Dunn, who else could it be?
"Mr. W-Walker?"
Milla's heart skipped a beat, pounding wildly. She instinctively clutched the towel to her chest, then realized that looked awkward and quickly relaxed her grip.
Dunn watched her calmly, his tone steady. "You're Milla, right?"
His eyes sized her up carefully. Her full, glossy lips shimmered with a touch of lipstick, sultry and charming. Her eyes sparkled with a hint of autumn allure, framed by dark red eyeshadow that paired perfectly with her grayish-green irises, giving her a foxy, enchanting vibe.
Her figure was jaw-dropping—curves in all the right places, downright irresistible. Wet, wavy brown hair cascaded over her snow-white shoulders, and the tight towel barely contained her, showing off long, flawless legs that made her look absolutely perfect.
Milla felt completely thrown off.
She hadn't expected Dunn to show up so soon. She wasn't ready—makeup half-done, fresh out of the shower, and not even dressed in a cute outfit yet.
Standing there in just a bath towel was beyond awkward.
It felt like he could see right through her.
Deborah gave her a little shove. "He's talking to you!"
"Oh!" Milla snapped out of it, shaking off her jumbled thoughts. She pulled herself together, stepped about ten feet in front of Dunn, and gave a polite bow. "Mr. Walker, I'm Milla Jovovich. I'm 25 years old. I've worked as a model, released an album, and starred in big commercial films like The Fifth Element."
Dunn leaned back, studying the gorgeous woman in front of him with a neutral expression. He pointed at her towel. "What's with that?"
Milla's face turned beet red. She was so mortified she wanted to disappear into the floor.
Deborah nearly burst out laughing.
This Dunn—he was such a tease!
The girl had just showered and was still in a towel. What did he think was going on? Asking that was just putting her on the spot!
"I-I haven't had time to—" Milla bit her lip, her voice barely a whisper.
Dunn raised an eyebrow. "Didn't Deborah tell you? I'm here to audition the lead for Resident Evil."
"She did, but—"
Milla hesitated. How could she say it out loud? Especially with someone else in the room.
It was honestly a mess.
Ever since her divorce from Luc Besson, Milla had been on the hunt for a new big break—ideally with a famous director or a promising up-and-comer.
When she got into the casting for Resident Evil, it felt like her chance had arrived!
The director, Zack Snyder, was only 35—young and talented by Hollywood standards. His work on Saw had revived the B-horror market, and he was clearly going places.
Even better, she'd actually passed the audition!
Zack Snyder had personally called her, saying she was the perfect pick for the lead in Resident Evil.
Everything seemed to be falling into place.
Just like when she'd landed The Fifth Element years ago.
But then came the bad news: Zack Snyder was engaged!
If it was just an engagement, Milla wouldn't have cared. Even if he was married, she was confident she could win him over during months of filming—close quarters, a little charm, and she'd break through his defenses.
A woman chasing a man? Piece of cake.
Especially for a tall, stunning beauty like Milla Jovovich.
But then she found out Zack's fiancée was Deborah Johnson, the executive producer of Resident Evil. That was a dead end—no way to wiggle in there!
Still, good news came soon after.
Deborah told her to head to the Jeremy Hotel in West Hollywood, to the top-floor Presidential Suite No. 2, for the final round of auditions for the lead role.
The location alone said everything!
Milla had asked casually, "Who's going to be there?"
When she heard "Dunn Walker," it all clicked. Her doubts vanished.
Dunn Walker's reputation was legendary in the industry.
A top-tier suite in one of Hollywood's best five-star hotels? It fit his status perfectly.
Deborah hadn't spelled it out, but Milla—having clawed her way through the modeling, music, and TV worlds since she was a kid—knew exactly what was up.
She didn't resist, didn't get mad, didn't even hesitate. She had to go!
Luc Besson was old news, Zack Snyder was taken, and now a bigger fish had surfaced—the one and only Dunn Walker!
As a former model, Milla knew how crucial it was to capitalize on her youth. She was only 25, with plenty of prime years ahead. She couldn't let this slip away!
But she never imagined meeting him like this, in such an awkward setup.
And Dunn seemed way more serious than she'd expected.
Deborah shot Dunn an amused glance and cleared her throat. "Dunn, why don't we just get to the audition?"
That "audition" clearly came with air quotes.
Milla was standing there in a towel—probably nothing underneath. With a scene this tempting, what guy could say no?
Let's skip the formalities and get to it!
Dunn nodded. "Sure, sounds good. Let's see what she's got!"
Deborah let out a quiet breath, ready to make an excuse and leave the suite to Dunn and Milla. Living room, study—whatever they wanted to do, it was theirs!
But then Dunn got all serious. "The lead in Resident Evil has a lot of requirements. Beyond the obvious—angelic face, killer body—she needs solid action skills. That's make-or-break for this movie. We've got just over two weeks before shooting starts, and learning a bunch of fight moves in that time? It's tight."
Milla jumped in. "I can do it! I've done tons of action films. I've trained in taekwondo for seven years—I've got the basics down!"
Dunn's expression softened, and he nodded approvingly. "Alright, then show me a few moves. Make it smooth—punches and kicks working together!"
Deborah's eyes widened as she stared at Dunn, totally thrown.
Boss, you're not for real, are you?
Didn't we hash this out in the elevator?
She was baffled, wondering if she'd been too subtle earlier and Dunn hadn't caught her drift. If that was the case, this could get messy!
It'd be a total joke!
But…
Dunn was sharp. There's no way he hadn't figured out what this "audition" was really about!
Milla was thinking the same thing. She snuck a skeptical glance at Dunn and saw him sitting there, steady as a rock, no hint of nerves—just pure business, dead serious.
She looked down at her towel, and her face flushed again.
This was way too embarrassing!
Punching was fine, but kicking? She was in a towel, fresh from the shower, still in her post-bath "natural state" underneath.
But seeing Dunn's firm gaze, Milla gritted her teeth. She had to go for it. Opportunities like this didn't come easy—pride was worth nothing!
Taking a deep breath, she started throwing punches.
Her moves were fluid—she definitely had some skill.
Dunn, though, wasn't impressed. He frowned. "Put some effort into it! That's not punching—where's the power?"
Milla wanted to cry. She knew her moves were weak and sloppy, but if she really went for it, the towel might slip!
Deborah was floored, her head spinning. What was Dunn up to?
He looked so serious—not joking at all.
Was he actually here to audition the lead?
No way, right?
"Wait—hold on!"
Deborah narrowed her eyes, watching Dunn closely. Then she caught it: his eyes would flicker slightly, and the corner of his mouth would twitch up just a bit.
What was that about?
She zeroed in, glancing between the two of them.
When Milla threw a high kick, sharp and fierce, Deborah spotted it again—Dunn's weird little expression, almost like he was enjoying a private joke.
Deborah froze, then it hit her. She nearly burst out laughing!
This guy—Dunn was such a riot!
From her angle on the side, she could see Milla's upper body wobble a bit, but the towel kept things covered. Below, those long, pale legs were on display, but nothing too revealing.
Dunn, though, was right in front of Milla. His view was a whole different story.
Every time she kicked high, that short, tight towel couldn't hide a thing!
This Dunn—he was playing a game!
No wonder he kept pushing for more kicks. He was totally up to something!