The Star Princess Read Online Free PDF Page B

crossed her left leg over her right. Her foot bobbed. Her backless shoe wobbled, clinging to her big toe. When she was anxious, she fidgeted. It drove some people crazy. But that went both ways: anyone that easily irritated drove her crazy, too.
    She lifted her gaze and studied the others in the big room. These were people who knew her better than most, but even they didn't realize how thwarted she was by the idea of traveling to her brother's wedding, because pride kept her from revealing it. Ilana's friends knew her as someone who wasn't afraid of risk. They thought of her as a gutsy, take-charge chick. And that's the way she wanted it to stay.
    She'd known Slavica, Leslie, and their male partner Flash since being freshmen at UCLA's renowned film school. In the five years since graduation, they'd all worked for others, but now they worked for themselves. It was something of which they were all proud.
    The Holt film was a step up for them, too. Until now, their projects had been much smaller. Going big meant bucks. They could have done it sooner, but maxing out their credit cards, taking second mortgages, and begging friends and family for cash— like so many of the struggling independents they knew had done— wasn't the route they'd wanted to take. The lure was strong; it wasn't easy finding investors who'd throw tens or even hundreds of thousands of dollars into an independent film. Sure, they could occasionally cut sweetheart deals for crew and equipment, but there were certain costs associated with filmmaking that you just couldn't get around: production insurance, transportation, meals, sound mixing, a lab to process the movie. And they hadn't wanted to cut those comers or sacrifice quality.
    Then they'd lucked out: the Holt camp had wanted this documentary made, and had agreed to support it financially without stealing the freedom to explore the actor's imperfections.
    There had been a lot of pressure, making the leap to the big time, but Ilana's friendship with Slavica, Leslie, and Flash translated well into their relationship as business partners. Everything had worked out fine. So far. They'd created Dust, a documentary following the movie star and former drug addict Hunter Holt's laborious road to recovery. The film had done well at the regional festivals, and if it gained buzz at Sundance, the most prestigious of them all, it would win them notice on the national level. Everyone in the business knew that more notice meant more money. Money meant the ability to hire better actors, and access to better projects.
    Things didn't always work out, Ilana had seen. Business ventures broke up friendships. And marriages. Not that she had her eye on that particular gamble anytime soon. Unlike her brother.
    Brother. Wedding. Space. Flying. Nightmare.
    Ah! Ilana's fingers closed convulsively around her bag of Corn Nuts, crushing it. She pressed her knuckles to her thigh. "I really don't want to do this," she said. "I don't want to go."
    Leslie spoke without taking her eyes off a publicity trailer she'd created for Dust. "Do what?"
    "Ian's wedding," Ilana said.
    "You have to go. He's your brother."
    "I know," Ilana wailed.
    All that her juvenile whining won her was a moment of long-suffering silence.
    When it came to her fabulously rich stepfamily, from which she stubbornly accepted no financial backing, Ilana didn't expect much pity from her friends. She had access to any party, any club. If she wanted, she could socialize with anyone from the King of England to rock stars, all because of who her stepfather was. But the idea of hanging out with people who opened their doors to her only to gain influence with her family was so obnoxious that it was a struggle to come up with words sleazy enough to describe it. Still…
    "A little sympathy would be nice," she complained.
    Leslie observed her with perceptive green eyes ringed in smoky gray pencil. "I don't see why you're stressing about it now. It's not like you didn't know it