On Friday morning, my call to Trent was reduced to five minutes of How's Kansas? Great. How's San Francisco? Great! because we had a script reveal to endure before we began filming. Apart from the love scenes, this was the part I hated most, and my heart beat against my ribcage like a studded club as I trudged downstairs. Seven a.m. found us sitting around the oversized dining table in the conservatory overlooking the pool. Mikki and Kane looked as though they were auditioning for Baywatch, dressed in a bikini and swim shorts respectively. Mikki might have a floaty blouse on over the top, but it left nothing to the imagination. Lucas had gone for tailored shorts and a linen shirt. Formal compared to Barbie and Ken, but he hadn't bothered to shave, and the smattering of stubble would do everything for David's precious ratings. Debbie would be thrilled too. In fact, she was staring at him so hard that she missed her mouth with her organic mango juice and dribbled it down her chin.

"Cameras, are we ready?" David asked.

"And...rolling."

I smoothed my dress and perched on the edge of one of the padded leather chairs. Today, I'd erred on the side of demure in the hope that the footage might focus on the others. My hands wouldn't stop twisting in my lap, so I poured a glass of water in an attempt to keep them busy.

"Here." Lucas passed me a handkerchief to clean up the puddle I made.

"Thanks," I mouthed.

David didn't even notice. He was too busy telling his adoring public via live broadcast that the next week of filming was going to be gritty, dramatic, and just a little bit dirty. Great. Debbie passed out the shiny gold envelopes, one for each of us, and they seemed thicker than the last ones. Did that mean worse news?

Mikki tore into her envelope like a starved wolf, slavering over the contents. Kane mugged for the camera, flashing that Hollywood smile as if he were in a toothpaste ad. I had no idea what Lucas did because I screwed my eyes shut as I slid my script out.

"Remember, folks, don't give the plot away," David warned us.

Of course, because people wouldn't pay to see the movie otherwise.

I skimmed the pages frantically, trying to block out Mikki's little gasps and squeals. The men were more stoic, and it wouldn't have surprised me if Kane already knew the contents since he was all buddy-buddy with David. The pair of them probably conspired over beer about which items of clothing I'd remove first.

Mariah monologue; Kelvin and Mariah; Kelvin alone; Veronica, Lance, and Mariah; Veronica, Lance, and Kelvin; tension building... Oh, shit. Veronica and Kelvin alone.

According to the schedule, next Wednesday, Veronica would swing by Kelvin's office to ask some follow-up questions about the death of his business partner. Lance had made the initial visit, but since he was busy attending the autopsy, she decided to go it alone. Except that Kelvin, having recognised her as the girl he'd gotten carried away with on that rainy night, would be more intent on flirting than giving straight answers. And at the end of the meeting, Kelvin was supposed to push Veronica up against the wall and kiss her. Talk about inappropriate. Veronica ought to Taser him for that, but in our world of make-believe, she'd kiss him back instead.

And knowing Kane, the smooch would end with his hand under my dress and probably a few items of clothing missing—my clothing, not his—and Debbie would "leak" the stills to the media. This scene wouldn't be as bad as the one on the couch, but even so, the prospect of being mauled by Kane again left me nauseated.

One more straw on the camel's back.

David began chatting with Mikki, interview-style, and Lucas met my gaze across the table, his clear blue eyes to my fake ones. He raised one eyebrow.

"I'm okay," I mouthed.

But I was lying.

***

"Kane! Kane! Can I get a picture?"

"Kane! Will you sign my purse?"

With my illustrious co-star at my side, even a simple task like walking through the airport turned into a parade. Kane smiled and waved, pausing to snap selfies with every pretty girl as well as sign the occasional body part. He'd even brought his own Sharpie.

And me? I scuttled along in his shadow, wheeling the little pink case that contained three different dresses and enough make-up to start a new career as an Instagram influencer. Shonda had shown me what to do with everything, but honestly, my only goal was to avoid poking out my eye with a mascara wand. Back in Kansas, the most I'd worn was a swipe of lip balm. Oh, and I'd bought one of those little compacts from the Spend 'n' Save once, but when I tried using it, I'd looked more like a clown than a siren. My only attempt to dye my brown hair blonde had resulted in an orange disaster of epic proportions, and after I'd spent a whole week's wages from my job working on Delbert Rodwell's ranch to get it fixed, I'd sworn on my split ends that I'd never mess with the colour again.

"Kane! Are you dating Violet Miller?" one guy asked, a reporter rather than a fan.

"Tonight, we're just enjoying an evening out at the movies."

Debbie had instructed us both to be deliberately vague on our relationship status because—you've guessed it—speculation would put us right in the spotlight. My first instinct had been to veto the whole stupid idea, but then I'd spoken to Lauren, and she'd insisted that rumours of Kane's interest would make Trent jealous and me more desirable. So when Kane settled a hand on the small of my back and steered me toward the limo waiting outside, I gritted my teeth and squinted against the camera flashes.

Kane had a home in LA, according to Celebgossip.com, but tonight, we were both staying in a suite at the Black Diamond Hotel. The same suite. Separate bedrooms, but the media didn't know that, and ten bucks said Debbie would leak our roommate status to the press.

"Have you stayed in the Diamond Suite before?" Kane asked as we walked into the hotel lobby. A gaggle of reporters was hot on our heels, so he passed my case to the bellhop and then held the door open.

I hadn't even stayed in a hotel before, but I wasn't about to admit that. "No."

"It's okay, as suites go. The beds could be softer, and the baths aren't all that big."

Was Kane serious? When I opened the door to my en-suite, I found a freaking swimming pool. And there was nothing wrong with the bed either. I'd have liked nothing better than to curl up with a room service dinner and binge-watch Netflix for the rest of the evening instead of dressing up to sit through my own movie yet again, but I was under contract and therefore didn't have a choice. So I laid the three dresses the wardrobe lady had picked out for me on the bed and set about making myself presentable. How did other women do it? Hair and make-up took me an hour, and I pulled a muscle zipping up my dress.

We'd never had a premiere for Rules. Well, we sort of did, but nobody took pictures of our pizza party at the director's house. Good thing too, because it had spilled out onto the back deck, and after too many beers, one of my co-stars tripped over a stray set of barbecue tongs and we had to take him to the emergency room for stitches.

Tonight, the only drama was on the red carpet the Wish on a Star foundation had set up. Kane turned his magic on the waiting crowds, and although I knew he was an asshole at heart, I had to give him credit for making the fans smile.

"Violet, come over here. Damon wants to meet you."

I turned to see Kane crouching by a young guy in a wheelchair, thirteen or fourteen years old maybe, and he beckoned me in their direction.

"See?" Kane said. "I told you she was pretty when she smiled." Then to me, "Damon wants to be an astronaut when he grows up."

I took in his thin frame, the missing hair, and the oxygen line running under his nose, and in my heart, I wasn't sure he'd ever achieve his dream. But I had to pretend he would.

"Space, huh? When I was little, I had a whole glow-in-the-dark universe stuck to my bedroom ceiling. Every night, I used to lie awake, wondering what was out there."

"Same as me! Then my mom and dad got me a telescope for my birthday so I could look at the sky for real. Did you know there's gonna be a meteor shower next week?"

"No, I didn't know that."

"I have a book about it. Want me to mail it to you?"

The kid wanted to send me a gift?

"There's no need—"

"I'd really like to."

"Okay, uh, sure. That's very kind of you."

I scribbled the address of the beach house in Damon's autograph book, then posed for a picture with him and Kane. My knees cricked, but Kane gave me a hand to get to my feet, slipping one arm around me as he did so. His hand crept lower, and as it hit my ass, I felt the flashbulbs burning into my back. Guess which photo would be on all the gossip sites tomorrow? I almost slapped him away, but at the last second, I realised that would create an even bigger scene. Why did he have to spoil everything?

"Will you get your slimy hand off me?" I whispered.

"No."

No? No? "It's not freaking optional."

Rather than respecting my wishes, Kane squeezed. He actually squeezed, then waved to the reporters as though nothing had happened.

"You asshole!" I hissed, twisting around so he had no choice but to drop his hand.

He just shrugged and carried on waving.

"Debbie's orders. This is showbiz, baby."

***

"For the last time, I'm sorry I put my hand on your ass."

I stomped into the suite ahead of Kane and threw my purse onto the couch.

"You're a pig."

"Would it help if I said it was a nice ass?"

Really? He thought it was nice? I mean... Violet! Get ahold of yourself!

"It would help if you apologised and meant it."

Kane just sauntered past me and poured himself a glass of Scotch. The ice cubes clinked as he leaned back against the wet bar, one arm stretched out along the black marble. He'd taken his tie off in the elevator, and if I hadn't spent the last two weeks finding out what an arrogant dick he was, I might have drooled.

"Mikki would have been all over that photo op."

"Well, I'm not Mikki."

"Don't I know it."

"If you wanted a media whore, why didn't you ask David to swap us? I offered to go to the animal sanctuary with Lucas."

"Because, Violet, your star is on the rise while Mikki's more of a comet. Kind of fun to look at and occasionally does something interesting, but when you get up close, there's not much there. For today's task, we needed someone who could connect with the teenagers, and you have the right balance of intrigue, compassion, and looks. Mikki would have made the evening all about her. Drink?" He held out his tumbler. "You look as if you need one."

"I'll make my own."

My fingers shook as I dropped ice into a glass and added tonic with a tiny splash of gin. The last thing I wanted to do was get drunk around Kane, and I already felt sick. This whole industry was a game. Chess mixed with World of Warcraft. I was a mere pawn, just figuring out the moves, while Kane was a king. I might have starred in Rules of Play, but the irony was that I didn't understand the rules at all.

"You discussed this trip beforehand? With David and Debbie?"

"Of course. Rule number one: always stay one step ahead."

See?

"I'm ten steps behind."

"Rule number two: never admit that you're not one step ahead."

"I give up, okay? I'm not cut out for this."

"Rule number three: never give up."

I growled in frustration and knocked back the whole drink, then poured myself another. More gin this time. At least I didn't have far to crawl to bed.

"Why do you get so uptight around me, anyway?" Kane asked. "Especially in that scene the other day—I understand that you're new, but it was only a bit of skin. The crew's seen it all before."

Oh, there wasn't enough alcohol in the world for me to go there.

"I just felt uncomfortable."

He took a step toward me and stopped close, too close.

"Then how about we practise? You and me. Tonight. Loosen you up some."

Was he serious? Kane Sanders was propositioning me right after I'd called him a pig?

"I don't think so."

He trailed a finger down my jaw, and a little bit of vomit came into my mouth. Kane was familiar with the Hollywood rules, sure, but he clearly didn't understand my "get lost" vibes, and if I'd felt uneasy before, in a room full of people, it was nothing compared to the discomfort I felt right now, alone with Mr. A-List in this fancy hotel suite.

"Nobody would know. Hell, half the world probably thinks we're sleeping together already."

And Kane wanted to confirm their suspicions? What a jerk.

Rather than say something I regretted, or worse, that would either encourage or antagonise him, I set my glass on the bar and backed quickly away. Toward my room. My room that had a sturdy lock on the door.

"Good night, Kane."

Great. Just when I thought my life couldn't get any worse, Kane had gone full-on sleaze. Lauren wasn't going to believe this.