“It’s not my fault that people see scandal where none exists,” Lizzie argued hotly. Her overriding emotion was hurt that people were so quick to think badly of her, but she knew that in the hothouse of celebrity, public opinion and mood could turn so quickly. There had always been people who hadn’t believed she and Dudley were just friends and now they had fuel for their fire. And it hadn’t even been worth it; Dudley had been as drunk as a skunk and when she’d finally got through to him that Johnny had disappeared he’d mumbled something rude and gone back to sleep. Only a very late message from Arthur via the front desk had reassured her that Johnny was finally home and safe. Arthur had left his number and she had immediately programmed it into her phone, feeling a bit like a teenager with a crush.

“I’ve pulled you out of Stars of the Dance,” Bill said now. “There was enough shit flying around before this happened, but now—”

“You’ve done what?” Lizzie sat bolt upright on the slippery leather sofa. “You had no right!”

“They would have booed you off the floor,” Bill said brutally, “and I doubt you could have taken that. You need to be loved, Lizzie. You can’t cope with rejection. Don’t worry—I’ve talked to Alessandro, told him it was for your own good. He understands.”

Lizzie gaped at him like a stranded fish. There was so much in what Bill had just said, some of it too accurate for comfort, some of it breathtakingly arrogant, all of it objectionable, that she didn’t know where to start. On one point Bill was absolutely right, though. Three days had been all it had taken to transform her from celebrity sweetheart into toxic property and some of that was her own fault. If only she hadn’t gone to rescue Dudley.

“You don’t want to look at Twitter, Lizzie,” Kat said, not looking up from the screen herself. “Some of these comments are vicious.”

“You’re your own worst enemy, Lizzie,” Bill said heavily. “I don’t understand you.” He brought his fist crashing down on the desk, making Kat drop her phone. “You’re headstrong, just like your father. Or perhaps it’s bad judgement. I don’t know. But you go too far and you don’t seem to care.”

There was a long, appalled silence. Lizzie could feel the colour draining from her face and the angry tears burning her eyes.

“Bill,” Kat whispered. She was staring from one of them to the other, making no effort to retrieve her phone.

“Never,” Lizzie said, her voice shaking, “ever, compare me to my father, Bill.”

Bill, apparently tone-deaf to the atmosphere, merely shrugged. “OK,” he said, “so I suppose you’re not a drunk or a druggie—”

“Nor do I treat people like shit or send my young child away to school until I decide I want to exploit her as a child star,” Lizzie said.

Bill’s laptop pinged with a notification, breaking the tense silence. “Dodo Strange has landed the role of Elle in Legally Blonde for the new tour,” he said.