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royallyprincesslilly · 4 years

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Title: Kismet {1}

Henry Cavill x Famous OFC Aliya Taylor

Warning: Plot, Slow Burn, Mild Cursing

Words: 3.9

Summary: Aliya is a singer turned model turned actress. Since she was fifteen, she’s been creating her empire in the entertainment world. As the daughter of a famous fashion model/designer and Hollywood director, you’d think life is easy for her, but her past has been anything but easy. Due to past trauma, she’s forever changed and no longer trusts any man that is not in her family and a select few in her team. She’s sworn off love and serious relationships and has planned never to fall again, but love isn’t something that can be planned. It just happens when it’s meant to. Can Aliya outrun a love that seems hellbent on holding tight to her, a love that is Kismet?

Note: Okay, y’all, this has been in my Word file for about a year and a half now, and I have no idea why I never posted it, but I’ve been inspired. It is mostly finished, but I will be tweaking it a little with each post. I hope you enjoy this. As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

If you enjoyed this please LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!! 😘 As always, thank you so much for reading. ❤️❤️

***Loosely Edited/Proofread***

**Very Interactive**

“Everyone, welcome, Aliya Taylor!”

The clapping and cheers were deafening as you walked down the long corridor to walk through the set doors. Once in full view of the studio audience, they stood and cheered even louder. You took a few moments to wave at them before walking down the path that led to the talk show host. Once there, you hugged Wendy and prepared for the antics.

“They love you.”

“It appears that way. Thank you so much for having me.”

“Girl, everyone wants a piece of you. why is that?”

You shrugged and scoffed. “Hell if I know.” The audience erupted with laughter. They thought you were kidding. You weren’t.

“Are you being serious?”

“Absolutely. I have no idea why. I am just this normal girl. At home, I’m Liya, the baby, the one who wears sweats and high buns. I don’t get it.”

“Oh, so this that we see now is not how you are when the cameras turn off?”

Again you scoffed. “Absolutely not. Most days, unless I’m working, I don’t wear makeup and heels I try to stay away from,” you explained.

“Wow. I mean, I’ve seen plenty of paparazzi pictures of you, and you always look so put together,” Wendy complimented.

“They must photoshop,” you joked to the audience's amusement.

For the next several minutes, she asked you questions about your latest projects and what you had planned for the next few months. After pointing out you were seen as a fashion icon, she began inquiring about your fashion inspirations. That conversation almost went on for the rest of the segment, but like the pro she was Wendy roped it back in to the hard-hitting stuff.

“So, I have to bring this up,” she began giving the audience a look that had you giggling. “For the last few months, we’ve been hearing from a particular Hemsworth who has been preaching from every ledge how you are the love of his life. Anything to say about that?”

You were prepared for this, it was expected. It was Wendy Williams, after all. Shrugging, you have a clueless look. “Nothing to say. This is actually the first I’m hearing about that,” you lied.

Wendy didn’t buy it, and the look on her face said it. Holding your ground and tapping into that acting skill, you kept a straight face and let the stare down run its course.

“Wow, you have an unwavering poker face.” The audience laughed around you, but you still kept a straight face.

“I don’t know what to tell ya’, Wendy,” you responded with a shrug for emphasis.

“All right. So, are you single?”

“I’m single, not looking and very happy,” you announced. The cheers around you were unexpected, but you liked that they were on board with it.

“Any particular reason why?”

Sighing, you sat back in your seat. “Relationships are hard. They take a lot of work, and I require too much to be in a relationship.”

Wendy cackled, which sent you into a tiff of giggles. When the two of you settled down, she continued.

“What does that mean?”

“Not much really just relationships are distractions, huge, huge distractions, and I would just rather enjoy my time, my life and work which includes helping people, changing lives, making lives better and focus on me. Relationships are just not for me, so I don’t want em,” you declared.

Wendy looked shocked and speechless, but she began nodding. “I understand. After my highly publicized divorce, I am also in the mind frame of nothing serious. I’ll have my fun, but a serious relationship is a turn off for me.”

You raised your hands in the air to praise her statement. “So you’ve been traveling a lot, right? We see pictures of you with your two best friends Amaya and Alicia.”

Your smile was wide then. “Yes, yes. We’ve been traveling and enjoying life. I’ve worked so hard for so long, and rarely do I take a vacation, so I took a little time,” you explained.

“That’s good. What do you think about the polls fans have created about who they want to see you with?”

That was news to you. “What?”

“Yeah. There are so many polls that are fan-made asking who people want to see you date,” Wendy explained.

“Who are the contenders?”

“Zac Efron, Robert Pattison, Theo James, Michael B Jordan, the names are endless,” Wendy listed off. You could have laughed, but you kept it in and just decided to nod.

“Any preference?”

“Who am I to have a say?” The laugher erupted around you again.

Thankfully the conversation steered back to your work, and that was where it remained for the next five or so minutes until the end of the interview. After signing a few autographs and taking a few fan pictures, you made your exit and toward your next engagement. It was going to be another long day. This was the eighth straight day that began at four in the morning only to have your head hitting your pillow well after two in the morning.

After three more interviews and two meetings, you made it home at the time you expected. Sleep was not in the cards for you, especially since it had been years since you’d had a good night’s sleep without sleeping pills. Insomnia is what the doctors diagnosed you with. While everyone in LA slept or got six to eight hours of sleep, you rarely got four. It was a condition you’d managed to find a way to live with after all these years and resigned yourself to never being normal in that department. You didn’t dwell on it because that meant opening back up the box you’d neatly put away out of sight that was wrapped in pretty bows as tight as possible. You’d worked hard to keep your Pandora’s box bound tight, and it was an endless daily struggle to keep it that way.

-Two Weeks Later-

“I’m not used to be early,” you whispered to your assistant, who nodded. She knew it was true.

“What time is this supposed to be?”

“Two,” Pamela responded. Your golden Cartier watch said it was four till. Just as you were going to speak, the doors opened up and in walked three men, one of which was your manager Rob.

“Aliya, so glad you could make it.”

You shook their hands and exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes before getting down to the nitty-gritty. They spoke about a movie project that was planned for filming in the fall that they believed you were perfect for the lead role. As they described the plot and the intentions of the filming, you nodded along and took a few mental notes. As they spoke, several boxes on your list were checked off. You hated roles where black women were typecast, hated roles that degraded black women, and hated those cliché movies that were so predictable one usually regretted seeing them. These days you liked more adventurous roles, even roles that had you getting into the action genre. Why should men have all the fun of being action stars?

After a chat about the film, they gave you a rough draft of the script which you read through on the spot. It read like a classic action romance that had the lead female tackling female stereotypes of being the damsel in distress then turning around to being able to hold her own. You were intrigued and told them such. After asking your questions, the conversation turned to salary. You were prepared for them to lowball you because you were a woman and a black one at that. When they came in with five million, you didn’t bother speaking. Rob knew that you wouldn’t take it. You knew for a fact that other actresses would have been offered more. Their second offer of ten million sounded a lot more reasonable, and that was the contract you signed on for.

Three hours from the start of your meeting, it ended. As Rob finished up the details with the director and producer of the film, you made your way to the elevators with Pamela beside you. As you walked, your face was buried in your phone checking email after email and sending off message after message.

“The creative team is wondering if you’re still okay for the photos for the next publication,” Pamela inquired.

“Uh---was that the set that was done at the Botanical Gardens?”

“Yes.”

You stopped for a moment and thought about what she was asking while never taking your nose out of your phone. After a few moments, you nodded. “Yeah, tell them to send me the complete issue, and then I’ll get back to them in a few days,” you instructed.

You heard the “ding” of the elevator and waited the amount of time you expected it would take for the doors to open, then you stepped forward. Slamming into a hard wall, you began to fall backward with a yelp. “Oh my god!”

You prepared yourself to make impact with the floor, but that impact never came. Instead, you felt strong, muscular arms wrap around you. Those arms held you close, and you felt like nothing in the world would dare hurt you while there. When you looked, you were held captivated by the most intense pair of blue eyes you’d ever seen. They were eyes you’d seen in passing before, but eyes you must have overlooked until now. Henry Cavill.

The man was gorgeous. You’d always thought he was attractive the few times you��d see him in magazines or even watched his movies. It was a fact that you didn’t dare dispute. Why would you? With him, this close you couldn’t believe just how gorgeous he was. One man definitely had no business being this beautiful, you thought to yourself. You couldn’t believe his attractiveness. You should have been immune to it being an actress who’d dealt with some of the industry’s finest but here and now you felt like a fish out of water. You’d never had this strong of a reaction to a man before.

“Are you all right?”

You saw his mouth moving, but you couldn’t hear a word he said. His arms around your waist tightened. You now had a perfect view of his completely symmetrical face that had the most chiseled jaw you’d ever seen. His skin was flawless, and the stray curl on his forehead was calling your name, begging you to reach out and just touch it.

“Hello? Can you hear me?” His voice finally broke through the hormone-induced haze in your head.

“Oh my god. Yes. I’m okay.”

Henry’s eyebrows were etched together, giving you an inquisitive look.

“Are you sure?”

“No.” You sounded as if you were faint, and honestly, you kind of felt like it too.

“Let’s stand you up. Here we go.”

Slowly Henry set you up onto your feet before he let you go. Once he did, you wobbled, which had him reaching his arms out to you again to steady you. “I’ve got you.” His British accent was heaven. It was enough to have you staring at his mouth every time he spoke.

“Are you okay?”

Realizing how you were behaving, you remembered just who the hell you were and cleared your throat while straightening your back.

“Yes, I’m okay. I’m—I’m sorry,” you began.

“No, it was probably my fault. I was so wrapped up in my phone.”

“Me too,” you blurted out. The two of you smiled together, and it was right there you felt your heart skip a beat. Again, you cleared your throat and looked away from his hypnotizing eyes. “Uh, I’m sorry again. However, I am—uh—late for another meeting,” you finished.

“Absolutely.” Henry stepped to the side, giving you access to the elevator. After bending to retrieve your phone that had made its way into the elevator, you leaned onto the wall of the car, waiting for Pamela to file in. As she did, your eyes met Henry’s again, and that was where they stayed. It wasn’t until the doors closed, and you were somewhat alone, did your body begin to relax. Slouching back, you pressed your palm to your belly, hoping to calm the butterflies you felt fluttering away.

“Holy shit,” you whispered out loud while fanning yourself.

The remainder of the day, you were not your usual self. Normally you were a force to be reckoned with and able to charm any exec or paparazzi. That was not the case after you left the building. You were dazed and flustered. You even had a hard time following the meetings that followed. Your head just simply was not in the game, and that was a first for you. Your father had taught you long ago that keeping your head in the game was the best way to achieve all your goals. He taught you everything he knew, and your mother taught you then some.

You knew just who he was. Henry Cavill. You’d seen all the movies he’d been in regarding Superman because he was your favorite superhero. You’d seen his Mission Impossible movie and even his Man from U.N.C.L.E movie. He was all the buzz now because of his massive casting as Geralt of Rivia in The Witcher. Everyone had his name in their mouth.

At the most inopportune time, you found yourself thinking back to his face, his eyes, or his mouth and reminiscing about the feel of his arms around your waist. It was embarrassing. You felt like an amateur. You didn’t get starstruck. It wasn’t a thing for you because you’d been around celebrities since very early in your career. This was a first, and it was quickly getting old. Thanks to how long the day ran, you only had time to run home to quickly change your clothes in order to make your flight out of LA that night.

Once the plane took off, you were reclined back in one of the luxurious seats with a glass of fruit-infused Perrier water and a bowl of kettle corn. It was then you were finally able to catch your breath and relax for the first time for the day. Moments of quiet and slow were far and in between for you. For the most part, it was done purposely so you didn’t have too much time to think. You’d quickly learned that an idle mind invited painful memories.

Grabbing your phone, you snuggled in the seat and opened it up, ready to either scroll through Instagram or work a little bit. It didn’t take you long from unlocking it to realize this was not your phone. Once you unlocked it, the wallpaper was of an adorable dog on one side and a picture of a large family on the other.

“What the hell?”

Sitting up, you tucked your feet under you and continued to scroll through the phone. Immediately you went to pictures. The first few were interesting shots of pieces of tech and then several pictures of the same adorable dog. The more you scrolled, the pictures got more and more interesting. When you came across a picture of Henry audibly gasped.

“Oh shit! Shit, shit!”

Slowly you put the phone on the table before you and looked around the cabin to see if anyone was watching you. You felt as if you were doing something wrong. Realizing no one was paying any attention to you, you drank down the water and raised your hand for the stewardess.

“Yes, Ms. Taylor.”

“Have we taken off?”

“Yes, we’ll be landing in London in six hours,” the stewardess informed. Clenching your jaw, you nodded.

“Okay, can I have a bottle of champagne, please.”

“Absolutely. Any particular brand?”

“Surprise me.” She nodded and walked away. In her absence, your eyes stared at the phone on the table and contemplated your options.

A few moments later, the stewardess returned with the bottle and a filled glass.

“Thank you.” you dumped the fruit from the bottom of one glass into the champagne flute and gulped down half of the glass. Your eyes again landed on the phone.

“Don’t do it Aliya, don’t do it.”

Flexing your fingers, you tried to suppress the urge to go against your better judgment.

“It would be a major invasion of privacy, Aliya. Don’t,” you reiterated.

Before you even finished the sentence, your hand was reaching for the device.

“Oh, screw it.” Grabbing the phone, you unlocked it again, and while thanking the tech gods, there was no passcode on it. “Technically, I don’t know whose phone it is. I do have to get some information. Right?”

You nodded your head, accepting you were having a full-on conversation with yourself. You continued to scroll through his pictures. The majority of them are of him smiling, showcasing those perfect teeth and his perfect face. Some were him in makeup chairs, others in a house with perfect lighting, others were him at random times. After a few swipes of your finger, you’d entered pictures that looked to be of family. You could see the resemblance between him and the men and a little bit around the eyes of an older blonde woman.

Noting that they all looked happy and loving, you continued looking through more. Your finger stopped moving when you came upon a brunette with dark eyes and blonde with blue eyes. Both women looked relatively young but somewhat attractive in a simple way. You began to wonder who they were. After scrolling a little more, you got your answer seeing a few pictures of him kissing both women. That had you stumped and wondering who the women were and if Henry Cavill was a good-looking playboy.

You didn’t know how long you scrolled, but when you ventured into the shirtless ones, you scrolled a lot slower. The man was built like Greek God by Hollywood standards. He had like zero percent body fat and one hundred percent muscle definition. You didn’t even realize you were practically drooling until you got to a picture of him suggestively nude. He laid in a bed with a blanket aimlessly thrown across his groin, which left little to the imagination.

“Lord have mercy up in haven for all things that are holy.”

Pressing his phone to your chest, you closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths then continued. You quickly transitioned to his messages. Most were work-related. Six names down, you saw a woman’s name—Francesca. Not too far below hers was another—Abby. Though your curiosity was at an all-time high, you ignored it and exited his messages. For the next fifteen minutes, you scrolled through the remainder of his pictures until you dropped it back into your purse to alleviate any more temptation to ogle his body. That was when you used the champagne to distract yourself, but it was no use. All you could think about was Henry’s literal ten pack.

~~~~~~~~~~

-Henry-

“Bollocks!”

The flowery wallpaper that stared back at him was the only thing he needed to see to know this was not his phone. It was then he realized his phone must have gotten mixed up with yours due to the mishap in front of the elevator. Leaning back in his chair, he groaned and stared at the ceiling. The thought entered his mind to look at it, especially since there was no passcode on it.

“You can’t. That’s a massive invasion of privacy. She’s a lady,” he drilled to himself.

Raising to his feet, he paced the floor of his hotel room. Most days, he felt like he lived in hotel rooms rather than his flat in London. He groaned, feeling the ache to his muscles, he needed a vacation. Working every day, nonstop was staring to wear its toll on his body. He got lost in thoughts on a possible vacation for a few minutes before the light of your phone on the table brought his attention back. His struggle was something real. On the one hand, he wanted to look so badly, but on the other, he wanted to respect your privacy.

The battle waged on for an hour until he gave in to curiosity and delved into your phone. The first place he went was to your pictures. As soon as he scrolled, he was blown away. You were gorgeous. The first few rows of pictures had you all dolled up in makeup, lashes, lipstick, and all. He spent a lot longer examining those pictures than he should have. When he got to the ones of you fresh-faced, he found himself drooling. While you were gorgeous with makeup, you were breathtaking without. He marveled in the way your skin looked to be glowing, and the way your lips looked so supple—kissable. It took everything in him to move on.

There were pictures of you with who he assumed were your friends, in these pictures you looked happy and it wasn’t long before he found a favorite one of you.

“Christ, she’s too beautiful.”

As he scrolled, he stopped in his tracks at one of you in a bikini, and his jaw dropped. Every inch of you was perfect. You had not one flaw. When you bumped into to him earlier, he realized you were beautiful and that there was a draw between you that triggered a reaction for him, one that he hadn’t fully noticed until the elevator doors closed. Sitting here now, he was fully aware of his reaction to you. Quickly he scrolled on then dropped the phone when he came across a shot of you in heels with your back turned to the camera in your underwear alone. He found himself biting his bottom lip as his imagination took over. That was when he got out of your pictures.

When he got into your messages, he began admonishing himself for what he was doing, but he couldn’t stop. He wanted to know more about you—everything really. He scrolled through those messages that looked like work until he came upon two names, Liam, and Jesse. Though he was curious, he still decided against reading them. Instead, he slide the phone to the farthest corner from him and contemplated all he’d seen and the best approach to this situation. He had to get his phone back and give you yours, but he also was filled with an overwhelming desire to know you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lee’s Note: What do you guys thing? Continue?

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