CHAPTER SIX - TAUNTING JORDAN

Jordan stared quietly at the woman advancing upon him. Her hips twitching in her tight and smug uniform, she had no idea how her body affected him. He straightened up from his position on the hard floor, dusting himself up as pain crept up his ribs. He must have fallen very badly.

Jordan groaned. He would make sure to teach his double a thing or two about revenge when he was done.

Ysabelle stuck her hands out to him. Jordan ignored it, not trusting her. He remained on the floor, and all the crew members ran to him. His manager helped him up. They sat him on a chair that was dragged close.

In between shouts of pain, Jordan caught a glance at Ysabelle watching him with a very disgusted look on her face. But he was past caring; his legs really hurt.

The director was not pleased with his display at all when the fuss was all over and they allowed him to take a rest.

"I am not happy with your performance so far, Jordan. "Truth be told, if this were my film, I would have kicked you out long enough."

Jordan gasped at the rude way he was being talked to: "Are you kidding me?" I was not playing as well.

"Perhaps you should try harder. We are all being paid to be here. The public is so hyped that you will be in a film. I am sure they will hate it when we release the behind-the-scenes cuts of the film. I am sure they will be disappointed to know their dear actor is the one who is holding up the rest of the production crew." The man spat out nothing too friendly.

Jordan sat up, wincing as the pain in his leg crept up again, and he lay back down on the chair. "Are you threatening me right now?"

"Yes," the man said without blinking an eyelid. "Your father might be the owner of the agency, but this film is going to have my name on it, and I don’t do wobbly jobs. My work wins awards. So you either get it together or I will remove you from this movie." He said it with venom.

Jordan stared at him in shock as the man left. The man must have thought he was a joke. He was Jordan Bell. The king of entertainment The one actor everyone wanted to see on their TV He didn’t get that famous by being a klutz.

He groaned as the anger came rushing at him. He should have said that to the guy. There was no way he could defend himself now. But he would show him he could do it.

Ysabelle came over to him just then, whistling softly. "I hope your leg is just fine."

Jordan groaned, closing his eyes. He put on his earbuds, drowning out all sounds, but not before he heard Isabelle’s horrible insult in response to his words. He ignored her, though. She was just a lover scorned, and he needed a break.

Tired and sick from all the humiliation, Jordan was furious with his crew. He sat angrily on his bed in his room. Throwing his phone onto the bed, Jordan proceeded to tear off all of his clothes throwing it all around the room in anger. His phone rang incessantly as well, he did not bother checking he knew it was his father.

He went to take a shower, opening the shower on his hot and brimming head. He could feel the smoke come off. It was all so maddening. He had never suffered such humiliation before in his life.

He washed with such an infuriating pace; he was troubled; it seems he was forgetting something very important. The line of events that happened today were not actually straightforward.

It was not until he was putting on his night robe that the realization came to him. It was as if someone had pulled a match and lit a fuse inside him. The double actor, it was strange that the man had not shown up all day. thinking long and hard on the troubles he had gone through.

Jordan, enraged, went in search of the man’s room. It was not easy to find, as none of the crew members he called picked up their calls. He contemplated calling the director, but he ignored the idea; he was annoyed with the man, and he would not speak to him unless he apologized. Even Mike was not within reach.

The whole hall was quiet as well. He had not seen a single soul since his search either; he went out of the building. There were a few soldiers on patrol. Jordan went to them. One of them suddenly stopped making Jordan uncomfortable. Dammit, he was scared of these military men. The earlier they packed up the shooting, the better for his blood pressure.

"What do you want?Make it quick; I have a post to get to." The soldier said gruffly, his hand balanced on his gun. His face looked unhappy enough that Jordan did not waste his time. He was a merry-go-round person; staying around such people might make a decrease in his happiness level.

"I can't find my crew members; do you know where they are?"

The soldier gave him a long look, as if debating whether to roast him on a skewer or not. Jordan got the message and left hurriedly.

"Come back here, mister."

Jordan did so promptly wearing the most humble look he had ever sported.

"Are you that famous actor, Jordan Bells?" The soldier asked softer questions this time around. He was giving Jordan the look again.

Jordan nodded gently, unable to form words.

"Can you sign a few shirts for my friend?" He asked almost in whispers now. Jordan was awed; he had not expected that request. He went around him.

"You know me, don’t you? Yes, I knew it. How can she say she does not know me? Everyone in Yusama knows me; even the King of Yusama watches my movies." Jordan boasted excitedly.

The soldier sighed. He brought out his phone and made a call, clearly indicating that he was not the one in need of the autographs. Jordan was further awed when a group of female soldiers came streaming at him, wide-eyed. They all drew him into a private area and had him sign several things. Some even took pictures with him, and Jordan was made to smile through them all.

Not that he was appalled; his earlier anger was fast dissipating under their praise and attention. But he took hold of one of them when it struck him.

"Have you seen my crew members?"

"Yes. They are all in the training room. We usually hold a general fighting competition every weekend. Every one of them is there. That is where we came from. I can take you if you want, though."

Flashing the female soldiers his charming smile, Jordan followed after them, chatting with them politely on the way. All the while, he brewed with extreme anger inside. He would find that double and teach him a lesson.

The scene that he met was stifling; even the air was hot. There seems to be a pump of adrenaline in the air. The men were going crazy, screaming and hailing the soldiers fighting in the middle of the arena. Some of the top officers were all seated as well. He spotted his crew members hailing as well. Jordan felt left out of the whole party, and no doubt they were ostracizing him now as well.

Jordan matched them forward, but one of the soldiers walking with him dragged him away and pushed him towards the back.

"She is fighting. I heard she was a star soldier at her former station. She is a key drill training instructor and very highly skilled. She has never lost at any combat before," the soldier whispered, noticing a look of pure adoration on her face as she stared at the soldiers fighting

Jordan turned to look at the object of their curiosity. With a sweat-covered face and a head of hair bound tightly in a ribbon at her back, she was putting on a tight black tank top and the army’s shorts. Ysabelle Gum. Jordan's lips curled into a mischievous smile as he focused entirely on the woman fighting to her heart's content.

Her opponent was an extra-large soldier as well. But that did not seem to deter her. She had him successfully pinned on the floor and was raining heavy punches on him. The man was bleeding from his mouth, with his hands held down roughly by Isabelle’s boots. How she managed such a feat was beyond him.

Jordan was appalled as the soldiers hailed her the more. They were all animals, all of them. He made his way over to Mike, pinning his head down painfully.

"Why did you not come and call me? You traitor?" Jordan shouted angrily. He was so concentrated on giving Mike a lesson that he failed to notice that his shout had attracted more than a few soldiers around them. Mike tried to notify him, but he was not listening. Jordan had his hands around Mike’s neck and had a very mean look on his face.

"Calm down; the soldiers came to invite us suddenly as well. There was no time to notify you. They ordered us out" Mike managed to get out of it. By now, the searchlight was beaming excitedly on them. Jordan released Mike slowly, looking at the light and the fact that the attention of the whole arena was now on them.

One of the soldiers suddenly started clapping for him. The next thing they did was begin clapping for him, and before Jordan knew what was happening, He had been shoved to the middle of the arena to face Ysabelle. She stood up and faced him; her whole face was bruised, and her knuckles were red as well. The previous soldier she had been fighting was carried off.

Her stance like that of a man, she stalked towards him like a tiger hunting for his prey. There seemed to be amusement on her face as she placed her hands on her curvy hips.

"Seriously, I really find this insulting. Am I supposed to fight this weakling?" She shouted, the mockery evident in her voice. The soldiers hailed her the more. Jordan was enraged, the insult cutting deep into his soul.

"Who said anything about fighting you? I came here to find my double. I have no business with you." Jordan let out a tight breath. This was an uncomfortable situation. He made to leave the floor, but Ysabelle blocked his way; she folded her arms in front of her.

"So why are you on my floor? I made a challenge to everyone today that I would remain the champion standing throughout the fights, so they are all welcome to challenge me one after the other. So your being here automatically makes you my opponent." She unfolded her arms while staring straight into his soul.

Jordan panicked; he tried to run, but she stepped into his way again. He looked back; the soldiers were hailing him, his crew members even shouting the loudest. He looked at the officers seated, but they all just seemed to be enjoying the show. He was not going to allow himself to be beaten up if that was what they were all thinking.

"If you are looking for a toy to beat up as you wish, why don’t you just buy a mannequin while you are at it?" He growled at her, his brain thinking of the perfect words to rile her up.

Instead, Ysabelle chuckled and walked closer to him, making Jordan take several steps back.

"I get the fact that they pushed you here. But even with that, you shouldn’t uphold your standard as a man; you are too much of a weakling. That is the reason why the directors didn’t take you seriously earlier. Life is not just some bed of roses of love and happiness forever. There are trials you have to overcome as well. Well, I don’t blame you; we soldiers die daily to protect the likes of you and make sure you sleep peacefully in your home. Of course, you will not understand the first thing that comes with you defending yourself, am I right? Jordan Bells. You are just a sizzling coward," she spat out.

Jordan screeched, his blood boiling, but he was also aware that there was no way he could fight Ysabelle. She would break him instantly.

Jordan turned away and began walking away from her, his legs heavy.

"Wow, no motivation to fight me, right? I understand as well." Ysabelle said cunningly. Jordan could hear the clicking of her tongue. No matter how much he liked her, he could not allow her to beat his ass. He still had to save his dignity.

"Why don’t I give you one?" Ysabelle shouted at his retreating back. "You said you came to find your double right. "I was the one who made him sleep off past the shooting time."

Jordan swirled around to face her triumphant smile. "And that’s not all that I did." She continued slowly, "I also put him on the plane to go home." which means you will have to complete the shooting on your own. Are you annoyed at that? "Any normal civilian that is as lazy and incompetent as you would be."

Jordan had never met such a vile woman. It was like she was pumped for evil. He wondered how a person could be so mean. It was like she had hoarded all mean things and was now pouring them out at the earnest opportunity.

Anger boiled within him, but he forced himself to remain calm. It had been his irrational behaviour of going at Mike that had pushed him into this situation in the first place. But the hurt was too much to swallow. It stamped on his pride as a man and as a celebrity. If he left so suddenly, it would be such a great dent in his reputation. The woman was baiting him like some worm caught in a net.

Ysabelle did not allow him to think too much; she made the decision for him. She launched at him, kicking him with her boots. Jordan went flying, and he hit the floor hard. He scampered away from her as she ran towards him. He stood up and ran towards the soldiers, who pushed him back; they all circled around them, leaving the fighters tightly circled in a ring.

These fuckers, sons and daughters of bitches, Jordan cursed under his breath. Were they planning on killing him?

Ysabelle came forward, trying to stamp his head into the ground with her foot; Jordan avoided her in a hurry, and she banged his head with her hand instead, raining punches and kicks on him. Jordan tried blocking her, but his attempts were feeble and only helped him get beaten up.

It was like she carried a mean grudge, and Jordan had an inkling of what her grudge was, since that was it. Two could play the game, Jordan reasoned.

He baited her until she sat on him, using all of his strength. Jordan bent her head forward, allowing her body to be crushed against his. Desire was the furthest thing from what he felt at that moment. It was victory. Jordan liked the surprise on her face. He placed his hands low on her hips. Jordan used that tiny opportunity to draw their bodies flush. One of his hands slid over her hip, trailing up to her stomach, until he was cupping one of her breasts. She sucked in a breath, freezing above him.

The noise in the auditorium had gone muted and quiet, or so Jordan thought. But it was not so; it was just the effect of Ysabelle’s heavy punch on his head, rendering him unconscious.