A Life in Hollywood
Chapter 18 - Emilia Clarke - Part 2
"Bet they did," Osiah said. "You always bring it. I've seen the earlier seasons. Your scenes hit different. People are gonna lose their minds when it drops."
"Thanks," she said softly, the warmth in her chest spreading. "It means a lot coming from you. Anyway… back to my current headache." She launched into the details, walking him through everything her agent had thrown at her that morning. "PepsiCo wants me for this new crisp campaign. Sundress, big smile, cheeky British humor while I crunch away. Six figures for two days. Then Domino's is pushing stuffed crust pizza — me in a kitchen flirting over massive cheese pulls, girl-next-door energy. Papa John's similar, but they want a cozy family dinner scene where I'm the cool aunt bringing the pies. Easy money, all of it. But I keep thinking… am I just the snack queen now? I did the soda thing last year. Feels like I'm stuck in junk food land."
Osiah listened without interrupting, the faint set sounds still in the background. When she finally paused he gave a small hum of understanding. "The food ones sound like they'll pay the bills but won't do much else. You've done enough of those. Quick shoots, decent check, but it's the same vibe every time."
"Exactly," Emilia said, relieved he got it so quickly. "Then there's the Dolce & Gabbana one. Perfume commercial, shot in Rome. Italian trattoria setting, golden hour light, flowing dresses, Mediterranean glow. They want something elegant but still sexy. They loved my theater background and mentioned leaning into a little performance — maybe a short singing moment. Pay's better, exposure's huge, could lead to fashion stuff. But I don't know if I want to be the face of perfume right now. I've been trying to be pickier."
He was quiet for a thoughtful second. "The food ones sound like they'll pay the bills but won't do much else. You've done enough of those. The Dolce & Gabbana one — Rome, perfume, something with a little elegance — sounds like it fits where you're at. You could actually enjoy it instead of just cashing the check."
Emilia smiled despite herself, leaning back into the cushions. "You always make it sound so simple. Like I'm not being dramatic for once."
"It is simple," he said, calm as ever. "You're good at this shit. Pick the one that doesn't make you roll your eyes when you think about shooting it. The Rome one gives you something real to do. The snack stuff is just… snack stuff."
She laughed, the tension easing out of her shoulders. "Fair point. They mentioned wanting me to sing a bit. Something Italian. Brought up my theater days. That part actually sounds fun."
"That's perfect," Osiah said, voice warm with real interest. "You did theater, right? Before all the dragons and everything."
Emilia felt her cheeks heat up. She shifted on the couch, suddenly a little shy. "Yeah… a bit. Nothing huge. Mostly student stuff and some regional productions. I was always the one belting out musical numbers when they let me. It was messy but I loved it."
"Tell me about it," he said. She could hear the smile in his voice. "I only did elementary school plays — some tree in a Christmas thing one year, a talking rock once. Real high art. I had one line and I still managed to trip over my costume. My mum still has the photos somewhere. I looked ridiculous."
She giggled, the sound light and genuine, the last of the morning's stress melting away. "Okay, fine. One time in drama school we did a production of Guys and Dolls. I was Adelaide. Had to do the whole 'Lament' number — sneezing, crying, the works. I was so nervous opening night that I actually made myself sneeze for real on stage. The audience lost it. Thought it was brilliant method acting. I was just trying not to die of embarrassment. The director later told me it was the most honest moment in the whole show."
Osiah chuckled, deep and warm. "That's gold. Real commitment. Most people would've panicked and frozen. You turned it into something memorable."
"Another one was The Importance of Being Earnest. I played Gwendolen. Lots of posh accent practice and dramatic exits. I tripped over my own dress during one performance and turned it into this big theatrical flounce. Got a standing ovation for the physical comedy I didn't even mean to do. The cast teased me about it for weeks." She was smiling properly now, properly relaxed. "Theater was messy and fun. No CGI dragons trying to eat you, no massive crews, no green screen for days. Just you, the cast, and whatever chaos happened that night. I miss that energy sometimes — the live crowd, the immediacy, having to adapt on the spot."
"Sounds like you were made for it," Osiah said, no hesitation. "That live crowd, figuring it out on your feet, rolling with mistakes — that's rare. Most people freeze up. You clearly thrived. You should lean into that for the commercial. Bet you'd kill it."
Emilia bit her lip, a flush of warmth spreading through her chest at the easy, genuine praise. "You think? I've been second-guessing everything lately. Wondering if I'm still that girl who could just get up and perform without overthinking every single thing."
"I know you are," he said simply. "You've got range. Don't sell yourself short on snack ads. Go do the D&G thing. Rome, nice clothes, singing — sounds like a good time. You'll enjoy it."
She took a slow breath, letting his words settle. "Actually… they need a solid production person on the ground. Someone who can keep things moving without stressing the talent. You free? I could put your name in. Might be fun having you there."
There was a short, thoughtful pause. Then Osiah laughed low. "You trying to drag me to Italy, Clarke?"
"Maybe a little," she admitted, grinning wide enough that her cheeks ached. "Come on. Good food, nice setting, and I won't have to fake enthusiasm the whole time. Plus I trust you to keep the set from falling apart. And… maybe we can find some time for other antics while we're there."
Osiah's laugh deepened, warm and knowing. "Antics, huh?"
Emilia's voice dropped a notch, playful but with a clear naughty edge. "You know what I mean. Rome at night, good wine, no one watching too closely… We could sneak off after wrap, find some quiet corner with a view, or that trattoria after hours. I've been good for weeks. I might need you to remind me how much fun we can have when the cameras are off."
"Careful, Clarke," he said, the amusement clear but his tone steady. "You're gonna get me in trouble before we even land."
"That's the idea," she shot back, laughing softly. "Just think about it. Me in one of those flowing dresses from the shoot, you helping me out of it later. Or we could find a rooftop somewhere, city lights below us, your hands on me while I try not to moan too loud. I've missed that side of things. The shoot will be professional, but after hours… I'm hoping you'll help me be very unprofessional."
Osiah hummed, the sound low. "You're dangerous when you get like this. Alright, I'll keep it in mind. Send the details. I'll make it work. Could use a change of scenery anyway — and apparently some trouble with you."
Emilia's smile widened, a flutter of excitement mixing with the relief. "Great. I'll tell Rachel right now. And seriously… thank you. For listening and not making me feel stupid for overthinking this."
"Anytime. You've got good instincts. Trust them."
They talked a few more minutes — light stuff about Rome, what the shoot might look like, Osiah asking more about her theater stories. She told him about another production where she'd had to improvise an entire song when the pianist messed up the timing, and how the audience had cheered louder for the mistake than the planned performance. He shared his own ridiculous elementary school rock costume story, making her laugh until her sides hurt.
By the time they hung up, the decision felt easy. She texted Rachel: Let's do the D&G one. And add Osiah Morse to the production team if they need someone solid.
The reply came back fast: Perfect. They'll love that. Shooting in two weeks. Rome trattoria location confirmed.
Emilia leaned back on the couch, lighter than she'd felt all day. Rome. Singing. And Osiah there to keep things steady — and, hopefully, unsteady in all the best ways after hours. It sounded like exactly what she needed.
Two weeks later they were in Rome. The production had set up in a charming old trattoria tucked away in Trastevere—exposed brick walls worn smooth by decades of use, dark wooden beams crisscrossing the ceiling, red-and-white checkered tablecloths on sturdy wooden tables, and the rich, mouthwatering smell of garlic, fresh basil, simmering tomato sauce, and baking bread drifting from the open kitchen. Sunlight filtered through the tall, arched windows, casting a golden afternoon glow over everything. It was exactly the kind of authentic, lived-in spot that made the Dolce & Gabbana creative team happy — romantic without being cliché, warm, and full of character.
Osiah had flown in the day before and was already in full 2nd AD mode, clipboard in hand, headset around his neck. He'd spent the morning walking the space with the director and DP, marking sightlines with tape on the floor, checking cable runs along the walls so nothing would trip the extras or catch in the shots, and making sure the background actors (local extras dressed as happy diners in period-appropriate casual attire) knew how to move naturally — chatting, eating, gesturing — without pulling focus from Emilia.
Emilia arrived mid-morning, looking fresh and radiant in a simple white sundress that caught the light beautifully, the fabric flowing softly around her figure. Her dark hair was down in loose waves framing her face, a light touch of makeup enhancing her natural glow. She spotted Osiah near the bar area coordinating with a lighting tech and walked straight over, a bright, genuine smile breaking across her face.
"You made it," she said warmly, pulling him into a quick hug. Her body pressed warmly against him for a second, the scent of her light perfume mixing with the trattoria aromas, before she stepped back, still smiling.
"Wouldn't miss it," he replied, returning the smile with that calm steadiness of his. "Place looks good. Lighting's gonna love this time of day — the golden hour through those windows is perfect."
The director, a sharp Italian guy named Marco with quick hands and an even quicker eye, called everyone together for a quick briefing near the main dining area. "We want elegance with warmth. Emilia, you're the heart of the ad — confident, sensual, enjoying life. Move through the space like you belong here. We'll build to the song moment near the end. Make it feel alive."
Osiah caught Emilia's eye from across the group and gave a small, encouraging nod. During a short break while the crew adjusted lights and repositioned a few tables, he pulled her aside near one of the side tables piled with prop wine glasses and bread baskets.
"You've got that theater voice," he said quietly, keeping it between them. "Why not use it properly? They mentioned an Italian song. How about 'Quando, Quando, Quando'? Classic, romantic, fits the setting perfectly. You sing it while walking through the trattoria, interacting with the extras, ending at the table with the perfume bottle. Makes it feel alive instead of just another ad."
Emilia's eyes lit up, a spark of excitement crossing her face. "I love that song. Used to sing it in voice lessons back in the day. You really think it works here?"
"It'll stand out," Osiah said, nodding. "Gives you something real to do instead of just posing and smiling. The trattoria setting sells itself with that — the warmth, the movement, the music tying it all together."
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