Infamous: the page-turning thriller from New York Times bestselling author Alyson Noël

[Clips from Heather Rollins’s sultry photo shoot with up-and-comer and former boyfriend of Layla Harrison, Mateo Luna]

TRENA MORETTI: And of course, at the center of it all, Ira Redman, the enigmatic owner of the Unrivaled brand, which includes a recently launched tequila label, along with a string of exclusive nightclubs that Madison was known to frequent. Ira is also rumored to be financing Aster Amirpour’s legal defense team.

IRA REDMAN (from video): Listen—don’t be so quick to judge here. These are good, hardworking kids with a healthy entrepreneurial spirit. But instead of being lauded for their endeavors, they’re being demonized for having big dreams. Sure they’re ambitious and willing to do what it takes. So what? That doesn’t make them criminals! This is America—it’s part of our national DNA to yearn for a bigger, better life. Since when did that become illegal?

TRENA MORETTI: We’ll also discuss the explosive journal entry posted just hours ago on Layla Harrison’s Beautiful Idols blog, which got the whole world talking. As you remember, Layla was one of the four teens recently arrested in Joshua Tree for her alleged connection to Madison’s disappearance. Moments after being freed from jail earlier today, the incendiary post, titled “Through the Looking Glass,” appeared on her site. Was it an act of revenge? Only Layla knows. If the words truly are Madison’s, then it leaves us to question everything we ever thought we knew about the young star. If not, then it’s a risky move on Ms. Harrison’s part that could be met with serious legal action. Stay with us, as we keep you updated on the latest developments regarding the disappearance of Madison Brooks on tonight’s special live edition of In-Depth with Trena Moretti.

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It was all there. Nothing Trena didn’t already know. Of course, Heather was a wild card, since there was no way to guess how their on-air interview would go.

Then again, Heather had so far proved herself to be a consummate pro who seemed eager to attach herself to the scandal, if for no other reason than to build her own platform. Trena frowned at the thought until she realized she’d done the same thing. Standing on another’s back for a faster rise to the top was the very foundation Hollywood was built on.

She’d tried to get Mateo, but he’d been quick to deny her request. It was too bad. With his laid-back vibe and his obvious disdain for the very spotlight that seemed to adore him, he would’ve made a perfect addition. Still, Trena hadn’t completely surrendered. There was always the possibility of filming a segment on childhood leukemia. She’d already put out feelers to the hospital that was treating Mateo’s little sister. A big donation to accompany it just might make for an offer he wouldn’t refuse.

Ira had claimed he was too busy to provide anything more than a video clip, but Trena didn’t buy it. Ira was never one to turn down a chance at free publicity. It was as though he was trying to distance himself from the very scandal he’d used to propel his own brand. It didn’t make sense.

She reached for her phone and tried once again to reach Layla. Trena hoped she had a good reason for making that blog post, because if not, she’d soon be facing serious consequences. When Layla’s phone went straight to voice mail, Trena left another message, her third that day. She was about to review her script one final time when her assistant, Priya, opened the door a crack, poked her head in, and said, “You have a visitor.”

Assuming it was one of the producers, Trena tossed the script onto the table and ran a hand over her wild mane of bronze curls. It was important to look her absolute best, both on and off camera.

“Been a while.”

The mere sound of his voice was enough to make Trena freeze. Turning slowly, she watched James advance as Priya shut the door behind him.

“You don’t write. You don’t call. Not even so much as a text.” He stood before her, all dark gleaming skin and well-honed muscles. His brown eyes flashed as his lips slid into a wide feral grin.

“I have to be on camera soon.” Trena rose to her feet and brushed a hand down the front of her dress, straightening the seams in a way that enhanced her lean curves. She might not trust him, but she was still vain enough to want to impress him.

James peeked at his shiny gold Rolex. “In exactly six minutes,” he said. “Give or take.”

“What’re you doing here?” Trena fussed with the random items strewn across her dressing table, trying to appear unconcerned about being alone in a room with him.

“I thought I’d try for a better ending. I got a strange vibe last time we said good-bye.”

It was then that Trena noticed he clutched a long, rectangular box behind him.

She swallowed hard, fought to compose herself. Last time she’d received a similar package before a show, it contained a threatening message that continued to haunt her.

“Wow, you’re a tough one.” He laughed softly when she hesitated to take it. “You’re really going to make me earn my way back, aren’t you? Tell you what—I’m up for the challenge. But can’t a guy at least give you flowers?”

As long as they have their heads. She bit back the words and, with a shaky hand, accepted the package and opened the box.

“Did someone die?” She glanced in dismay between the dozen long-stemmed white roses and James.

“What? No!” He looked perplexed. “The woman behind the counter told me they stood for new beginnings.”

Or endings. Trena held the box, unsure how to proceed. James was sexy, mysterious, and quite possibly dangerous. Last time she’d seen him, she felt lucky to have gotten away. But maybe she’d overreacted. Maybe the flowers really did have two meanings.

The list of reasons to keep him at bay was seemingly endless, and yet she found herself saying, “Is that what this is, an offer for a fresh start?”

James pressed his lips together and hitched his shoulders high.

“I have a show to do.” She kept her voice firm, wanting him to think she remained in control. That his mere presence hadn’t set off her alarms.

James consulted his watch. “In three minutes,” he said. “Which allows you just enough time to answer my question.”

Trena turned away and placed the roses on the dressing room table. Then she stalled for as long as she could under the guise of checking her makeup.

“I was hoping maybe we could meet up after the show? Grab a late bite and just talk?”

She knew she should decline, and yet there was a good chance James had insider knowledge about the Madison case, that he knew the kind of things that could really cement her standing as a big-time journalist. In the interest of furthering her career, she figured she might as well. . . .

“What did you make of Layla’s blog entry? You think it’s legit?” She trained her focus on James, watching for even the slightest hint of deception.

He flashed his palms wide and said, “Nothing surprises me in this town.”

She was about to follow up, when there was a knock at the door. “Two minutes!” someone called.

She looked at James. They could sort it out later. Maybe over that late bite he’d offered. “You can hang out here.” She kept the tone as professional as she could, considering the deeply interested look he gave her.

He grinned and settled into the same chair she’d just vacated. “Break a leg!” he said as she passed him.

Immediately, she turned and stared. He’d just recited the words from the threatening note she’d originally suspected him of sending.

“That’s what they say before a performance, right? Break a leg?” He cocked his head and shot an appreciative glance over her body.

She pressed her lips tight and made for the door. She’d just reached the threshold when her phone chimed with an incoming text, and she glanced over her shoulder at James. Had he sent it? She could’ve sworn she heard that telltale swoosh seconds before she’d received it.

He lifted his gaze to meet hers and flashed a flirtatious grin that could mean just about anything.

Was James helping her or harming her? She couldn’t be sure. But she knew better than to read too much into his response until she could gather enough evidence to prove either way. Without another thought, she left him alone in the room and went in search of Priya.

“You okay?” Priya reached an arm toward her, but at the last second, quickly pulled away.

“I need them to run that clip with the nurse at Eileen Banks’s convalescent home,” Trena said, her voice a bit shaky from her encounter with James. “Tell them to cut the clip of Ira if they’re worried about time.”

Ira wouldn’t like it, but too bad. That was what he got for refusing a live interview in order to manipulate her into doing a piece on his empire. He’d get his segment, but for tonight, he was on the cutting room floor.

“Did something happen?” Priya seemed surprised by the change.

Trena considered sharing the text, which included an image of Madison’s birth certificate, revealing her real name, as well as the true identities of her parents. After all, it was Priya who’d discovered that Madison, aka MaryDella, had lived with Paul Banks’s mother, Eileen Banks, between the time Madison lost her parents in the fire and when she moved in with her adoptive family.

Paul had been the first on the scene when Madison’s childhood home burst into flames, ultimately claiming the lives of her parents. He’d been there to help when Madison moved to LA, and he’d been looking out for her every day since. Paul had been impossible to track down. They didn’t call him the Ghost for nothing. But Trena was convinced that if anyone knew where Madison was, it was him. She just needed to find him.

She studied Priya. Something about her covetous expression convinced Trena to hold back. Let her watch the show and learn the same way as everyone else.