Her eyes hardened. “What do I have to lose? At least I can get in the papers. Get sympathy.”

I shook my head. “Fans are fickle. Some may rally to your side, others may listen to me, because if you do this, I will have my say in the media.”

“So you keep saying, but I don’t buy it.”

I smiled tightly. “I hate to brag, but in New York my family had important friends. Even the President of the United States had dinner with my parents once, and don’t think I won’t call on every single contact I have to ruin you. I will go on every entertainment show in TV-land and tell them exactly how awful you are. I’ll tell the police you stalked me and took those pictures to harass me. I’ll hire lawyers to sue you. I might even buy your hometown in Alabama and rename it Blair Sucks—I am an heiress, after all. I will find every girl you’ve ever slighted or guy you’ve scorned and invite them to join me—”

She sent me a calculating look. “You hate attention.”

“I’m running out of time and patience with you. I have a gala to attend. Give me the pictures.” My voice was hard.

She sighed heavily. “I can’t.”

“Wrong answer.” I rose. “I will see you in court, then.” I headed to the door and tossed over my shoulder. “Oh, and did I mention that Hing said he’d be willing to give you a smaller role in the zombie movie? You’d die early on, but it’s a juicy role.”

Her eyes flared. “What the hell are you talking about?”

I laughed. “Yeah, apparently, Hing’s willing to make a deal with you if you give me those pictures. Now.”

She went stiff, her hands clutching her robe like talons.

“That’s the thing about Hollywood: everyone has their price, and apparently Hing has his. I have the power to destroy you, yet I’m choosing to help you.”

She paced around me. “What do you have over Hing? Did you get the male lead for Sebastian?”

As if I’d ever want him working with her?

I refused to answer that, giving her a shrug.

She started crying, mumbling about sagging skin and cottage cheese legs.

I ignored her hysterics and helped myself to a glass of water. My body language screamed in-control, but I was pushing myself to deal with her. Even though I’d never prance myself across national television, I wanted her to believe it. Offering her this deal was the only way to get rid of her forever.

“You have ten seconds.” I tapped at my watch.

She immediately called Harry, who informed her that he’d just gotten off the phone with Hing, who said that if Blair did what I asked—whatever it was—then the smaller role in the zombie movie was hers. She dried her fake tears, and five minutes later, I left her house with her camera, her phone, her laptop, and an envelope of photos.

Violet was back. Like a boss.

AN HOUR LATER, I could barely contain my excitement for the coming night. Just a few more hours, and I’d be able to tell Sebastian everything. I’d already explained everything to Mila. She’d spent hours with Sebastian yesterday, working on different press statements in case the pictures went live. She’d spoken with a couple of reporters to test out the waters, but Blair had never come forward. Now she never would.

But today, I needed an outfit, a bring-back-your-mojo kind of dress.

I gazed around at the pricey boutique that definitely had a Frederick’s of Hollywood vibe to it with itty-bitty outfits and stiletto shoes.

But I didn’t want too sexy. This was a charity event.

I slanted a look at Mila. “I take it we aren’t here for your usual?”

“What’s my usual?” She came to a stop in front of a black lace teddy.

“Pencil skirts, cardigans in pastel colors, pearls, anything that screams librarian with a hard-on for rock stars.”

“Don’t make fun of me.” She poked me with her pink purse.

“I’m not … okay, maybe I am, but you have to admit you have a certain style about you.”

“Style?”

“You know, like Hello Kitty vomited up a Mother Theresa version of itself.”

She put her French manicured nails on her hips. “Maybe I want some sexy holey jeans and—and a set of garters, and a leather-sequined jumpsuit with a big black rhinestone belt—”

I groaned. “Don’t wear all that at one time. Promise me.”

“You think you know me, but I could get a tattoo or a body piercing if I wasn’t so terrified of needles …” she trailed off, a sad expression on her face that made me chuckle.

Aw. She was gorgeous the way she was, and I secretly thought Spider got off on it too. I leaned in. “Have you talked to Spider lately?”

She shook her head. “No, and I don’t want to talk about him. What’s going on with Sebastian? Have you talked to him?”

I exhaled. “No, but I did send him a text that the pictures were in my possession and that I’d explain everything later. He tried to call me, but I’m not ready to talk to him. I’m still working with Hing on some details.”

“I love how you love him,” Mila said softly. “You’re sacrificing your privacy for him.”

Yes, I’d sold the journal to Hing. “It was for both of us. I couldn’t let Blair destroy his career and my life. There comes a point where you just have to stand up and fight for yourself.” I suddenly smiled, for once the memory of my father filling me with joy. “My dad always said that the remedy is in the poison.”

Mila smirked. “Hmmm, does that mean I should just screw Spider and get him out of my system?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

She bit her lip. “Back to Sebastian, he’s talking of getting on the road soon. He wants to get out of LA for a while. I think—I think he’s hurting.” She sent me a sad smile. “I’ll still stay here in LA, though.”

“But—but he can’t do that. I’m staying here—and the orphanage.”

“But what about your career, V? If you’re not going to New York, then what?”

I got giddy with excitement. “Okay, well, this morning I called the chancellor at the Manhattan School of Music and we talked. I explained how I couldn’t leave, and he said he’d put in a good word for me at the LA College of Music. He knows a few of the deans there, and he said they’d love to have me. Later, maybe, once my confidence is built up—I can apply for the symphony here.”