“Ivy, I’m going to get the maid to let me in if you don’t open up,” Will threatens from the other side of the door. Thank goodness for deadbolts.

Scrambling to yank Eric’s shirt over my head, I pull it as low as it will go, regretting that Will’s going to have to see me like this. It’s not the first time he’s seen me scantily clad, and I hate that it’s becoming a habit.

“What?” I growl, throwing open the door. But Will’s not even startled as he lounges against the doorframe, running his eyes up and down my body. He’s gazing at me so lustfully that I look down to make sure I really do have Eric’s shirt on.

“I can’t believe you’re not even dressed yet. We have an eight o’clock breakfast meeting with Warren, Dave, and their new investor.” His tone is all business, but the way he’s looking at me sure isn’t. He leans in closer, making me take a step back. He seizes the opportunity, brushing past me to enter the room. “Why aren’t you ready?”

“Maybe because you never even told me about it,” I huff, exasperated by how he keeps leaving me out of the loop.

“Well, you’d better hurry. They’re meeting us in the hotel restaurant, but you look like you could really use a shower, and I have to brief you on some stuff before we go down,” he mutters, plopping on the unmade bed before reaching for the remote.

“Gee, thanks. You really know how to make a girl feel special.” I stick my tongue out at him. “You think you’re just gonna wait in here until I’m done? I don’t think so.”

“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.