I inhaled sharply at his words, at the heaviness of them. Sebastian had liked new beginnings too.

Not knowing what to say, I held my glass up and we clinked them together.

“My heart is a reckless thing, willing to say or do anything to get the reaction it wants.”

—Sebastian Tate

SITTING INSIDE JAVA and Me, I stared down at the photos on my phone. A tingle of foreboding went up my spine.

Out of all the pic ops I’d posed for last night with Blair, the Hollywood Insider had run with three pictures I’d never posed for as the top story on their website. No doubt it would make their television show this evening.

The first was of me carrying V through Masquerade. The second was a fuzzier pic of us kissing in the manager’s office, obviously taken from the window outside the restaurant. Fucking reporters. And finally, the last photo was of me and Blair arguing outside the club when I’d told her I was taking her home.

Mystery Girl and Sebastian Tate was the tagline.

Disaster. All that time invested with Blair, and it had fallen apart in one day.

“I hate to say it, but Blair was right.” I inspected the pic of us in the office. I squinted as I turned the photo in different angles. “That could be anyone. Right?” I looked to Mila for help.

She leaned over my shoulder and patted my arm—not a good sign. “Hmmm, I can tell that’s your hands on V’s butt by your lion ring, and that’s definitely your big old head and blond hair.” She giggled. “What cracks me up is the little black-out line where V’s boob is.”

She pointed at the one of me carrying V after her attack. “What I find interesting is the way you look here. All Neanderthal like, ‘Me caveman. Me protect my woman,’” she joked in a deep voice.

I arched a brow. “Glad you’re amused. You’re not much help.”

Spider smirked at me as he sipped on his tea. “These pics explain why Blair ran out this morning—thank God.” He shuddered.

I nodded. She’d left as soon as her PR girl had gotten a tip from someone who worked at the Hollywood Insider.

Mila patted my hand. “Just read what it says out loud. Maybe we can spin it.” She tried to sound chipper, but I had a feeling that once Hing saw that I wasn’t with Blair anymore—that we were arguing—he’d think twice about hiring me.

“You just want to make fun of me,” I said as I scrolled down on my phone to get to the article.

“No, I want to help.”

“I want to make fun of you,” Spider snarked.

I flipped him off and read the article.

Spider whistled. “Blair’s going to piss herself when she sees this.”

As if on cue, my phone ran. Harry. The article had been online for ten minutes and he was already calling.

“Asshole agent?” Spider asked

Mila shushed him as I answered.

I opened with, “Harry, it’s not a big deal.”

“No, it’s a fucking disaster when you cheat on America’s Sweetheart! Directors don’t want relationship issues on their set, Sebastian!” He breathed heavily into the phone. I pictured him sitting at his desk in Beverly Hills, clutching the phone like a lifeline as he visualized millions in a movie deal flying out the window.

I kept my voice soft, but my own anger was building. “This article is bogus. There’s nothing between me and V. We’re friends.”

Were we even that now?

He cackled. “Yeah, right. You screwed up when you kissed her, Tate. While she was topless. Pictures don’t lie.”

“Fine. How can we fix it?” I snapped.

Silence for a few beats. “Just be seen with Blair, act like nothing’s wrong. At the end of the day, Hing liked your screen test, he digs your look, but he was waffling based on your rep, so I don’t know what he’s going to do when he gets wind of this.”

I sat up straighter. “Harry, to be honest, I’m sick of Blair. She acts like we’re really dating and says mean shit to my friends. I don’t trust her.”

I heard him groan. “Look, I’ve read the script. This movie will make you a star.”

Something V had said came back to me. About how I could make it on my own.

“Maybe I don’t need Blair. Maybe there’s another movie out there for me.”

He sighed. “I’ve got nothing on my plate for you now. This is it. Sure, you can take a break from Blair and see what happens. But fans are fickle and so are movie studios. By the time a new script comes along, you could be old news.”

I fumed. “I still have music, Harry. You’re the one who’s supposed to get the movie deals. Do your fucking job.”

“I’m just saying the truth. Not that I like it.” He paused. “Just stay away from that girl, Sebastian. She’s career suicide.”

I hung up and slammed the phone down. Even though I’d left her house angry, I didn’t want to hear I was supposed to stay away from V.

“Holy Hannah in a hand basket, V just walked in the door,” Mila exclaimed as she looked over my shoulder.

She was here?

“Where?” I said, heart thundering as I craned my neck around to the entrance.

She whistled. “She’s got a sizzling new hair style—and a hottie with her.”

“Who you calling a hottie?” Spider snipped.

I narrowed my eyes. Since when did Spider get jealous over guys Mila checked out? He and I were due another conversation.

When I saw her, my mouth dried. Her long hair had been cut to shoulder-length in a choppy style where the front was longer than the back. The ends had been dipped in an electric purple color. It suited her angular face, the softness of her red mouth.

“She looks like a rocker,” I murmured.

She ducked her head at the stir of attention she and Geoff caused at the door, the locals wondering if someone important had come in, the tourists checking to see if she was somebody. A couple of people whispered, and I got paranoid they’d connect her with the Mystery Girl in the paper.

I let out a sigh of relief when no one rushed her. Maybe the hair saved her. I remembered that her face had been hidden in most of them too.

Mila stood up from our booth and waved them over.

Great. How the hell was I supposed to deal with her and Geoff in my face?

As they made their way over, Mila sent me a pointed look. “While you were sleeping in this morning with Little Miss Sunshine, I did my research on V. The guy she’s with is the Mayor of New York’s son. He’s in law school, plays polo, and dates socialites.”