The Best Movie Actor In Hollywood!

Chapter 672

The glow of the setting sun painted the entire desert crimson. The camp was still, disturbed only by the occasional gust of wind. There was no other sound, as if everyone had fallen into a deep sleep.

But Brown knew better. The camp was quiet because the film crew had yet to return from the day’s shoot.

He slipped quietly down a passage between the trailers, concealing himself near the front of one of the vehicles. Peeking out, he spotted a young man in glasses looking around cautiously, as if searching for any sign of Matthew.

On the other side of the path, behind another trailer, Brown saw John looking his way.

He gave John two tactical hand signals, and they quickly closed in on their target, using the trailer between them for cover.

“Where is he?” the young man in glasses muttered, glancing around. “Where did he disappear to?”

He had started tailing Matthew the moment he left his trailer and had been right behind him the whole time, but he had suddenly lost his target.

“Did he spot me?”

The thought crossed his mind, and he mumbled to himself, “Then again, for a fan like me, wouldn’t it be better to get noticed?”

Just then, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned to see a massive bodyguard bearing down on him. In the same instant, two large hands shot out, seizing his arms in an iron grip and wrenching them behind his back.A sharp pain shot through him, and the young man in glasses dropped to his knees with a cry. “Ow! That hurts!”

Brown held his arm. The kid wasn’t putting up any resistance at all.

Still, he remained vigilant and demanded, “Who are you? Why are you following Matthew?”

“I... Agh! You’re hurting me! Let me go!”

John stood opposite the young man at a safe distance, his hand hovering over his belt, ready to draw his weapon at a moment’s notice.

Brown saw John and eased the pressure on the man’s arm. “Talk!”

The young man felt the grip loosen and finally managed to say, “I’m Maxwell, a fan! I came to get Matthew’s autograph!”

Hearing this, Brown frowned. “How can I be sure of that?”

“I came here with a group!” Maxwell answered hurriedly. “They went to the film set, but I didn’t. I snuck into the crew’s camp hoping to get a photo with Matthew!”

When Brown didn’t react, Maxwell added, “I’m

the deputy director of one of Matthew’s fan associations in the North Hollywood area of Los Angeles. Phyllis Beretta knows me, and so do a lot of people from the support site.”

He figured these two must be Matthew’s bodyguards.

Five minutes later, Matthew rounded the corner of a trailer where the film crew’s security had gathered. He saw a young man standing between John and Brown.

Several security guards had surrounded the young man in glasses. Brown approached Matthew and reported, “His name is Maxwell, deputy director of the North Hollywood Association. I had Bella verify it.”

“No trouble?” Matthew asked.

Brown shook his head. “No.”

Matthew couldn’t help but glance at the young man in glasses. He was about twenty years old, with an ordinary face—the kind you’d easily lose in a crowd.

Matthew couldn’t think of any other way to describe him, except that for a man with such long arms, his palms were unusually wide, especially given his relatively slender frame.

But Matthew didn't pay it much mind; everyone has their quirks. After all, the world was full of people with far stranger appearances.

Since Brown was certain there was no threat, Matthew walked over. When it came to his fans, he had always been generous and friendly.

Seeing Matthew approach, Maxwell’s face lit up with surprise.

Matthew stepped into the center of the circle formed by the security guards and extended his hand. “Hi, Maxwell.”

A look of excitement washed over Maxwell’s face as he hastily shook Matthew’s hand. “Hi! Hello! Good afternoon! Ah... no, good evening, Matthew!”

He was so flustered that his words came out in a jumble, his hand still clutching Matthew’s, shaking it continuously.

Matthew smiled. “I apologize for what just happened.”

“No, no,” Maxwell said, still gripping Matthew’s hand tightly and shaking it.

“I was too reckless. I shouldn’t have snuck into the crew’s camp.”

As Matthew shook his hand, he noticed Maxwell’s palm was rough and seemed to have a lot of calluses.

“I hear you wanted a photo?” Matthew asked.

Maxwell nodded eagerly. “Yes!”

He added with an embarrassed smile, “We had originally planned to visit the set together today, but I had a last-minute change of heart... Matthew, I’m sorry for causing you so much trouble.”

“It’s no problem.” Matthew was still smiling. “Mind letting go now?”

He had offered a polite handshake, but the man had grabbed his hand and hadn’t let go, shaking it the entire time.

Maxwell quickly released his hand and apologized again.

Matthew turned to Brown and gave him an instruction, then turned back to Maxwell. “Wait here a moment.”

Soon, a photographer from the film crew arrived with a camera and took a picture of Matthew and Maxwell together.

Once the photo was developed, Matthew signed his name on the back, said a few more words to Maxwell, and then the fan was escorted out of the camp by security.

Following two guards, Maxwell walked down the corridor toward the edge of the camp. After a short distance, he glanced back at the spot where the photo was taken. Matthew was gone.

He looked down at the photograph in his hand and felt a fresh surge of joy. It had been a wonderful day. Not only had he met Matthew up close and in person for the first time, but he’d also gotten his picture.

It was everything he had dreamed of.

But there was one small regret...

From the moment he shook Matthew’s hand until he was escorted from the camp, Maxwell was thrilled and ecstatic. Deep down, however, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret that he hadn’t managed to get a picture of Matthew in his underwear.

***

Back in the crew camp, life began to stir as the team returned. The sky gradually darkened, a faint hum from the generator filled the air, and an array of powerful lights flickered on.

Despite the brief commotion that had delayed him, Matthew hadn’t changed his mind. He continued toward Karolina’s trailer.

When he reached her trailer, he knocked on the door. A female assistant answered, saw Matthew, and then turned to speak to Karolina inside before stepping out of the trailer.

Matthew entered the trailer alone. He saw Karolina lying on the bed and asked, “I heard you had heatstroke. Are you feeling any better?”

Karolina pressed her lips together. “I took some medicine today. I’m feeling much better.”

Why did she have heatstroke? She knew perfectly well, but she couldn’t complain. When she’d made the deal, she had given the other party her word.

She looked at Matthew. The whole world was fooled by him; beneath that friendly exterior lived a demon.

But she had no choice. Major brands had terminated her contracts, and her glamorous life was slipping away. What she was enduring now was a true form of torture, far more unbearable.

“I went too far yesterday.”

Pulling out a chair, Matthew sat down and placed a paper bag on the small table beside him. “K.K., I promise, it won’t happen again.”

He was smiling, a kind and natural smile, as gentle as a spring breeze. But

Karolina was certain it was the smile of the devil.

A sudden realization struck her: she never should have taken that damned million dollars!

It seemed like he hadn’t minded parting with a million dollars, but in reality, he had been looking for a chance to make her pay...

Matthew tilted his head and looked at Karolina. “What’s on your mind, K.K.?”

He didn’t wait for her to answer. Pointing to the paper bag beside him, he said, “This is a kind of magic potion. It has incredible power, so don’t forget to use it.”