"Viv, be a good girl. Just help Bianca land that role, and I'll treat you better from now on."
My heart turned to still, dead water.
Back then, Anthony had been nothing. A nameless extra without so much as an agency to his name. Every day he'd squeeze in with hundreds of others outside the studio lots, desperate for even a few seconds of screen time. I was the one who pulled strings. Called in every favor I had. Got him signed to my family's own company, Starlight Media. I asked industry veterans to coach him under every pretense imaginable, teaching him technique and craft. Then I quietly funneled endorsements and prime roles his way, propping him up from the shadows. I never told him who I really was because I was afraid of bruising his pride.
Last summer, a single drama made him an overnight sensation. I never imagined that before he'd even found solid footing, he'd already turned his back on me.
Bianca sat in her chair, one leg crossed arrogantly over the other, her voice dripping with provocation.
"Come on, Viv. Don't just stand there. Get on your knees already."
"That mouth of yours is so talented, right? I bet you'll lick shoes even cleaner. I'm really looking forward to it."
She was getting back at me for calling her a two-faced gold digger last night.
But if I actually did this, it would be my grandfather who'd die from the humiliation.
I grabbed the glass of mulled wine still steaming on the table beside me and hurled it straight into Bianca's face.
"So sorry. The Langfords kneel for family, kneel for elders, kneel before God. We don't kneel for trash."
"As for licking your shoes, forget it. But disinfecting that nauseating face of yours? That I can do."
Bianca shrieked and collapsed into Anthony's arms.
"It burns! This dress and makeup were custom-made to impress Director Finch, and this bitch ruined everything!"
"Anthony, she's just jealous that you treat me well! You have to make her pay!"
Anthony was livid. He kicked me square in the stomach.
"Vivienne, you ungrateful wretch!"
"If I didn't still need that face of yours at night, I'd slash it to ribbons!"
"You think you're so proud? Get over here. I want her on the floor like a dog, licking up every drop of that wine until Bianca is satisfied!"
I doubled over, clutching my stomach, before I could even straighten up. Wyatt grabbed a fistful of my hair and dragged me forward. No matter how hard he pressed down on my shoulders, I locked my hands around the edge of the table and refused to bend my knees.
Anthony's expression twisted with impatience.
"Are your legs just for show? Kick her!"
Wyatt's eyes went cold. He drove his foot into the back of my knee.
I was about to go down.
Then a foot shot out from the side. A custom leather shoe, steady and sure, caught my knee before it hit the floor.
I looked up and met Connor Henson's face. The kind of face sculptors dreamed about and never finished.
His hands were still in his pockets, the corner of his mouth barely lifted. His eyes were as cold as his voice.
"Who's got the nerve to make a princess kneel?"
