He stepped forward instinctively, unsure what he would say, when Monica suddenly turned—and their eyes locked.
For a second, her aloof persona remained aloof and elegant, and her expression cold and distant, the practiced mask of a seasoned actress. Screaming untouchable. But then her gaze subtly flicked behind her, to the small group of men watching her from the shadows, holding drinks and fake smiles.
She wasn't naive or stupid. In fact, she was pretty sharp—had to be. She had survived in Hollywood long enough to know better. Only fools believed this industry was glamorous beneath the surface. And fools didn't last. She'd heard enough horror stories, the whispered stories, the cautionary tales passed between young actresses like survival tips about these kinds of parties to know they were more than just glitz and glam.
