Princess of Hollywood (The Glitterati Files #2) - Maggie Dallen

One

Amber

One month later...

So I was the bad guy now, right?

Of course I was. Everybody said so.

But was that really any reason to snub me at my first Hollywood event?

“I’m sorry, miss,” the oversized bouncer said again.

“You don’t look sorry,” I shot back.

His expression didn’t alter, not even a little bit.

I sighed but rallied quickly, flashing him the sort of sugary sweet smile that had made me beloved by every girl and guy in my hometown since I’d moved back six months ago. I’d been all too happy to leave the pathetically small town of Pinedale Montana in my dust the moment the contracts were signed and the check from the Devereaux production company cleared.

“Pretty please?” I asked with my hands clasped together in front of me.

Either pretty smiles didn’t work in LA or this guy was being paid too well to care. The man was a brick wall between me and the party raging in the courtyard behind him.

“This is my party,” I said, all smiles gone now. “It’s in my honor.”

Well, it was our party. In our honor. Me and Brandon and the other soon-to-be stars of the reprised hit TV drama Love on the Range.

But whatever, it didn’t matter because my statement was met with a blank stare, and I counted twenty ways I would make this guard’s life a living hell once word got out that I was the new leading lady of what was already being hailed as the primetime drama of the decade.

I was going to be a star. That was the deal I’d made with Lila, and tonight’s party was to announce the show and its cast, led by Brandon and me. “I have to be in there,” I said, jabbing a finger toward the party. “They’re going to announce me any minute now and… I have to be there.”

I hated the desperation in my voice, but then again, this was the moment I’d been waiting for. It was why I’d agreed to go back to Pinedale to spy on my former friend, and it was why I’d gone above and beyond to make sure that the Devereauxs didn’t screw me over.

And, of course, they’d tried. When Lila’s father’s people had contacted me about being paid to get Brandon to Hollywood, no one had told me that I was backup. I was just a mole. A spy. His precious daughter Delilah—better known as Lila—she was sent as well. She’d been sent to compete with me. Both of us had one objective and something to gain.

And she’d almost won.

Luckily for me, I was about a hundred times smarter than Lila, and I’d discovered what her father had offered her. The leading role. For me, he’d merely offered money and a walk-on part with two lines. As if Lila was a real actress. As if that girl could act her way out of a box. Please. I was the actress here, and not just in real life, although I had no problem using my skills there either if it meant getting my way.

No, I’d spent my time in New York working as an extra, taking crappy commercial parts, modeling for creeps, and sleeping with disgusting directors who’d promised to help my career. All so I could find a way out of the hellhole that was my life. Sure, I could have found a real job, but it wasn’t like there were a ton of opportunities for a high school girl, and I wasn’t born to be a fast-food worker. Everyone I’d ever met was always telling me how pretty I was. How I should be a model. So, I’d done it.

I’d paid my dues in every way possible. A spoiled brat like Lila didn’t deserve to be a star. She was only good for one thing—being manipulated by people smarter than her, prettier than her, and with way more to lose. In this case? Me.

I glared at the ivy-covered gates that kept me out of my own party. This was her doing, I’d bet my life on it. Not adding me to the list just reeked of her particular brand of bratty pettiness. She no doubt expected me to call her in a panic, groveling to be let into the party that she’d helped plan.

I sniffed as I considered my options.

That girl wanted to play games? Fine. She could have her petty little vengeance, but we both knew that I would win in the end. Every. Single. Time.

I batted my eyelashes as I leaned over, exposing so

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