“Ivy, chill. Trust me, it’s better if we walk in together and present a united front. These kinds of meetings are all about appearances. Even though you’re not all that thin anymore, we can still wow them by making an entrance they won’t soon forget.” He doesn’t take his eyes off the screen as he flips between MTV and the E! Channel.

“So you’re selling my body as well as my talent, huh? If I had known, I would’ve made sure to reschedule that boob job I keep putting off.” I roll my eyes, sickened by how superficial he is. If this is how L.A. operates, I don’t want any part of it.

“Actually, your boobs look fucking fantastic. That’s the one thing your pregnancy has going for it. That and the practically see-through shirt you’re wearing.” He leers at me as I try to cover myself by crossing my arms in front of my protruding chest. I wince slightly. They’re still so sensitive. Eric would know how to make them feel better, but Eric’s not here.

“Do you intend to be a perv the whole time I’m in L.A.?” I glare at him as I bend over to rustle through my suitcase.

“With a view like that? Hell yeah!” He whistles, nudging the polished toe of his shoe against my ass.

“Will, knock it off,” I cry, standing up. “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he says, loosening his tie. “You always imagined what it would be like to have a hotel room all to ourselves. Prom night might’ve come a little later than expected, but I’m here now.”

“You’re a real jackass, you know that?” I give him a shove, and he falls dramatically across the bed.

“Ivy, you’re so boring,” he chuckles. “Don’t you ever lighten up? A little harmless flirtation never hurt anybody.”

“Yeah, except the people involved,” I mumble, slipping my toiletry bag over my shoulder. “Will, get it through your thick skull. I’m not into you anymore. I’ve moved on, and I don’t intend to waste another second of my life flirting with you.”

He grunts when I slam the bathroom door and doesn’t respond with any more witty remarks. Good. If he thinks he’s going to mess with me the entire time I’m here, he’s sadly mistaken. He should be kissing my swollen feet for coming all the way out here instead of baiting me into arguments he knows he can’t win. I’m not his plaything anymore. I never was.

After a rushed shower with terrible water pressure, I turn on the blow dryer. It’s as steamy as a sauna in here, but there’s no way I’m giving Will the satisfaction of stepping outside so he can fondle me with his eyes. He’d love to make me uncomfortable since I only have a fluffy towel wrapped around my body.

“Ivy, are you almost done in there? We have like fifteen minutes, and I really need to talk to you.” Will’s no longer perched on the bed. His voice sounds way too close, like he’s standing right outside the bathroom door.

“Well, I still have to do my makeup. So talk.” I slip a billowy sundress over my head. It’s one of the few dressy items I own that still fits me. I just hope it’s trendy enough for L.A. because it’s ultra comfortable and it camouflages my baby bump. I don’t know if Will told our would-be producers that I’m pregnant, so I don’t want to shock them with any more unexpected revelations. Having Lauren’s uncle scare them with a lawsuit was enough of a surprise. But the dress is pretty low cut. I’ll have to wear a denim jacket over it to tone down my newly abundant cleavage. I need Will to concentrate on nailing this meeting and not on my chest.

“Ivy, you are so frustrating. You know that? You make me want to pound my head against the wall.” As if to emphasize his point, Will does just that.

“Stop it, you moron! You’re gonna make it look like I beat you up or something. I mean, it’s not like I don’t want to, but you did say it was all about keeping up appearances.” I chuckle as I raise the mascara wand to my eyelashes. Oh, how I enjoy throwing his words back in his face.

“Ha ha ha, very funny, Ivy. But listen, you’re going to have to turn down the sarcasm, all right? I don’t know too much about this new investor, so I need you to say as little as possible until I get a feel for the situation, okay? Warren and Dave are cool, but they’re gonna need the financial backing to protect their investment if we move forward. Variety and Entertainment Weekly already had blurbs on their websites about how they’re considering our screenplay. Everyone’s wondering what these guys are going to do next. After winning the Oscar last year, they’re like the hottest producers in Hollywood. Whatever they touch turns to gold. Their movies might not rack up huge numbers at the box office but critics can’t get enough of them. That’s why Warren and Dave want more financial clout before diving into this. Even though, they love controversy. It’s what drives them.” Will voice is adamant, like he’s clearly enamored with them, but I’m not so sure. They like controversy? What if they intend to inject some of that adrenaline junkie mentality into the screenplay? I promised Eric I wouldn’t sell Cassidy out, but what if I lose control of the project? Suddenly I don’t feel so good about this.

Slowly, I step out of the bathroom, my dress sticking to my back. It was too steamy in there to get my hair completely dry, so I pulled it into a messy bun. Now I wish it were covering my shoulders. I feel so exposed as Will feasts his eyes on my voluptuous curves. His unabashed scrutiny—of what doesn’t belong to him—makes me what to take another shower to wash off his horniness. Was he always this sleazy or am I just noticing it now after basking in the glow of Eric’s love?

“Will, you have to promise me that I’ll maintain creative control over the screenplay or I’m not going downstairs. Eric was gracious enough to agree to your compromise, but I’m not going to make this any harder on him than I have to. He’s being way more generous than either of us deserve.” I poke Will in the chest as he hovers over me, forcing me to breathe in his expensive sandalwood cologne. He’s crisp, sharp, and polished. Everything Eric is not. Before I would’ve swooned over how perfect he looks, but now I know better. Rugged, natural, and unassuming is way more of a turn on.

“Oh, baby. You are going to slay them in that dress.” Will whistles in appreciation. “What are you doing? Don’t go covering yourself up. I was only teasing.” He frowns as I slide my jacket onto my bare shoulders.

“I am not showing up to a business meeting like I’m spending a day at the beach. Too much skin will make a bad first impression. I want them to take me seriously.” I rummage through my purse, searching for my phone when it dawns on me that I don’t have it anymore. As soon as the meeting ends, I’m remedying the situation pronto. I need to hear Eric’s voice.

“Ivy, honey. They’re never going to take you seriously. You’re just my bit on the side who’s helping me focus my creative energy. I’m top dog on the project. They think you’re only here to blow me if I get mired in a case of writer’s block. The better you look, the more credible our story becomes.” His hand is on the small of my back, just about skimming my ass as he ushers me out the door.

I’m outraged. All I want to do is give him a piece of my mind, dig in my heels, and refuse to budge. I’m on the verge of throwing a full-on tantrum when the elevator bings and the door slides open, revealing a car full of trendy twentysomethings. Exposed midriffs, tattoos, and piercings are intermingled with Rolex watches, designer jeans, and thousand-dollar handbags. I’m certainly not in Kansas anymore.

They look us up and down before a svelte blonde with an immaculate Brazilian blowout steps aside to let us on. Apparently we passed some kind of test. Will boards the elevator like he owns the place, dragging me along with him. In my heels, I stumble over the grate, but luckily Will’s hold on my waist keeps me from face-planting into a dude wearing a leather jacket that’s probably worth more than my car.

“Somebody’s still a little tipsy,” the guy chides, holding his Starbucks cup aloft. “Looks like you two had one hell of a night.”

Everyone snickers and I am mortified. The guy even fist bumps Will with his free hand. Being young and hot in L.A. isn’t gratifying. It’s humiliating. I’ve never felt so objectified in my entire life. I want to go off on this guy’s scrawny little ass, but Will grabs my finger, giving it a squeeze. I glare up at him as he imperceptively shakes his head. I don’t care if standing up for myself is a major faux pas. The drivel spewing from this guy’s mouth is beyond rude. It’s offensive.

“We did, bro. We did.” Will cocks an eyebrow, to check out the leggy brunette the guy is with. “I’m sure you can say the same.”

“Life’s too short to sleep alone. You know what I’m saying?” He slides his hand up the back of the brunette’s gauzy shirt, as if to claim his territory, as Will continues to eye her up. She stands there stock-still, looking bored. I can’t see her eyes because they’re hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses, but she doesn’t seem to be batting an eyelash, even though they’re talking about her like she’s not even there.

“Can you imagine the type of orgy we could have in here if we stopped the elevator?” chimes in another guy who looks like he could be a freaking Abercrombie model.

“Now that’d be fucking hot,” responds a tall, mocha-skinned girl standing next to me, licking her lips.

Just when I’m at my breaking point, the elevator bell rings twice, sliding open to reveal the lobby. I take a deep breath as I step out, trying to calm my rattled nerves. Is everyone in L.A. so sex-obsessed? I jump when I feel someone’s hand lightly skim my ass as everyone moves out of the elevator. I quickly turn around, but I can’t tell if it was a girl or a guy who felt me up.