the Overnight Socialite Read Online Free PDF

legacy into the twenty-first century. She could be big in Japan.

    A music career was a key part of Cornelia's five-year plan to build a major multimedia empire: hit albums, book deals, a television series, maybe one day her own magazine. When the Stevens-- Spielberg and Soderbergh--came calling, she wouldn't say no. She didn't believe celebrities who said they felt hunted by the paparazzi; she herself would feel duly appreciated by constant coverage. Frankly, she had the cheekbones for it. At Brearley and Groton she'd always been Most Popular, and now achieving fame beyond her own ZIP code seemed like manifest destiny.

    Not that Wyatt approved. Of course he wouldn't; not yet. When Cornelia divulged her ambitions to him in Monaco last summer, he'd just scowled and said, "Why add another layer of detritus to the cultural trash heap?" But she knew he would come around. If her mother had taught her one thing--which seemed about the accurate number, given her absentee approach to parenting--it was how to manipulate a man into believing that he wanted whatever she wanted. She'd marry Wyatt, and have her cake, too.

    When Daphne tipped her off that Theo Galt was flying in to support Mallory Keeler, his old friend and the brains behind Townhouse , Cornelia knew she had to seize the opportunity. (Daphne, Cornelia's forty-something publicist, had studied semiotics at Brown and now spent her days hawking $500 facial moisturizer, $300 tracksuits, rapper-size bling, and the clients who licensed it all.)

    Maybe it's better that Wyatt stormed off , Cornelia thought, watching Theo make his way over to the bar. She followed him. Easier to corner a man when you don't have another one looking over your shoulder. Wyatt's reaction to one stupid photo had certainly proved that.

    "Just in town for the night, Theo?" She tapped her glass with a slender finger, sliding it over the counter to the bartender for a refill.

    Theo looked mildly surprised to see her next to him. "Not even. I'm flying back right after the party. I have a few meetings in L.A. tomorrow morning that I couldn't miss, but I wanted to be here for Mal."

    "That is so sweet. I'm sure she appreciates it." Cornelia wondered why he'd really made the effort. He seemed too much like his father--street-smart, driven, self-serving--to waste his NetJets miles on the frumpy editor-in-chief. "You're sure you didn't decide to come when you saw I was on the cover?" she asked playfully.

    "Dad wanted me to meet the latest wife," he said, ignoring her question. "I couldn't make it to his annual wedding." Theo smirked, and then revealed two rows of ultra-white teeth. "Plus Mallory promised a room full of hot women."

    Cornelia felt a prick of annoyance; she disliked when other women were praised in her presence. Not that she cared about Theo's opinion. He was good-looking enough in his perma-tan, black-button-down shirt kind of way, but her grandmother had warned her, "Never trust a man who spends too much time on his hair," and Theo's artfully tousled highlights and boy bangs gave him a syndicated-television look. Still, she lowered her eyelashes. Her opinion of Theo was irrelevant; she needed to win him over. "I'm sure you don't have to leave Los Angeles for that."

    "New York girls are worth the trip." Theo wasn't tall, barely reaching her eye level, but his direct stare was oddly imposing. "So you're Mallory's first cover."

    "I was flattered that she asked me." Actually, Daphne had hounded Mallory for weeks to win Cornelia the spot--but Theo didn't need to know that. "And I'm so glad you're here. I've been meaning to call you. I'd love to have your professional advice."

    "Let me guess, you want to record an album." He snorted lightly. "A woman of many talents."

    "Yes," said Cornelia. Theo was clearly enjoying his position of power. Men always did. "So would you recommend I start by making a demo? Maybe I could sing something for you, a private performance, and you could tell me what you