The Game by Calista Kyle Page A

types of events. We'd circulate around the room, chatting and networking with other actors, directors and producers. It was good that Rob was successful in his own right, and wasn't just some handsome guy I found who was living off my fame and money. He seemed to garner respect and admiration wherever we went.
    "Oh look. There's Warren Peters," Rob said. We walked toward the man Rob had pointed out. He was standing by the bar alone with his back turned toward us. "What the hell are you doing here," Rob said in greeting once we reached him.
    Warren Peters smiled as he shook Rob's hand and quirked an eyebrow. "What does it look like?" he drawled.
    He was a little shorter than Rob, but still over 6 feet. His dark brown hair was graying at the sides, and made him look distinguished, but his mischievous smile made him seem younger. He wasn't conventionally handsome, but there was something about him--he had presence.
    "It looks like you're up to something," Rob said, narrowing his eyes at him. "This isn't really your scene."
    Warren Peters lifted one side of his lips in a lazy grin. "It isn't exactly yours either," he said before sliding his gaze to me. "You must forgive my friend Rob. He seems to have forgotten his manners in his paranoia. I'm Warren," the man said in introduction.
    I looked up at Rob, who was still staring at Warren suspiciously. It was obvious that there was some history between the two men. Warren was holding out his hand to me and rather than be rude, I took it.
    "Emilia," I said. He lifted my hand and brought it to his lips, much like Rob had done, and kissed the back of my hand. Somehow the gesture felt all wrong coming from him.
    "Charming," he said.
    Before I could reply, we were interrupted by Darla Lovitz. She breezed into our group and hooked her arm under Warren's possessively. "Here you are," she said, ignoring Rob and me. "I thought I lost you in this crowd."
    Darla was tall, blonde, and beautiful--the classic American beauty. She had always portrayed a cool, laid back, California surfer chick attitude, but it was all an act. She was one of the most neurotic, insecure, and catty people I knew. We had a colorful history, and I couldn't say that we were on friendly terms. In fact, I think she hated my guts, and I couldn't be bothered to muster any emotion for her. She was a non-entity in my book.
    We started out in the business at the same time, both coming to acting from modeling. We were both cast in Heavenwood , but after I became the breakout star, she got jealous and spiteful. While my career took off, hers remained stagnant and stuck in minor supporting roles. She had no one to blame but herself. Her constant partying and drug use, not to mention lax attitude about showing up for work, made her a liability. I knew she leaked some false stories about me to the press during my last year on Heavenwood .
    Warren rolled his eyes at her dramatic entrance, and shot himself up in my estimation. "Have you met my friends?" he said, directing her attention to Rob and me.
    Darla turned her head in our direction reluctantly, and I could see the effort it took for her to paste on her smile. For someone who claimed she was an actress, she was doing a piss poor job at it. Her smile came off as a grimace, and I had the satisfaction of watching her eyeing Rob and me in envy.
    "Darla, how nice to see you again," I said.
    "Emilia I didn't know you'd be here, what with all those stories about you," she said, leaning in conspiratorially.
    She was such a phony. As if she and I would ever conspire together about anything. I couldn't trust this woman as far as I could throw her. She had probably been filled with joy when the stories about Harry and I came out. Instead of lashing out at her like I would have liked to have done, I put on my own fake smile as well.
    "Why wouldn't I be here for my own movie premier?" I asked sweetly. "You know how it is with people making up stories about you to the press. That's the life of