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into her panties tonight. I’m not sure what happens next.
    Ryan trips on the carpet, or his own two feet. Spence falls with him, but manages to catch himself. He leans over to grab Ryan, only Ryan pops up like a damn jack-in-the-box, his elbow catching Spence’s nose with a blow loud enough to echo.
    “Fuck!” Spence grabs his nose, but not before a spray of blood rains over Maria and me.
    “Spence!” I exclaim, shocked by the sight of his blood. I drop poor Maria, and rush to him. He’s reeling, stumbling backward, blinded by the blood and the elbow blow. I grab him as best I can, but drunk in heels is no way to catch a guy twice my size. We continue to stumble backward, eventually falling flat on our asses.
    “Dude...” It’s all Ryan can say. He stands over us, a weird, drunken smile on his lips like he’s enjoying this on some level.
    “You asshole!” I yell at him. He has the gall to laugh, covering his mouth like he can’t believe his own strength. “Get the fuck out of here!”
    At that moment, Spence’s driver pushes past the cameras and leaps into the fray, knocking Ryan out of the way and pulling Spence to his feet.
    I grab Maria off the carpet. We jump into Spence’s SUV and speed away. I frantically find a cocktail napkin in my purse for Spence. He’s red faced, cussing, his head tilted back against the seat rest. I try my best to calm him, pulling his head forward so he doesn’t drown in his own blood. Maria is in some weird state of shock and denial, barely coherent and babbling like an idiot. I land a sharp slap across her cheek to bring her out of it. It works. She shuts up and leans against the door, her dull eyes fixed on me. I’m on my knees in the secluded darkness of Spence’s chauffeured backseat, zooming down La Cienega, trying to get the situation under control. The moment turns surreal. I look at them. At myself. Blood spattered, half drunk and miserable. Thrown back into a lifestyle that almost killed me. A familiar pain seizes my chest. I grab my wrist, twisting the blood-red cuff until it bites painfully into my skin. What the fuck am I doing?

Chapter Six
    Nerves crawl through me. Sweat dampens my palms, disgustingly so, and I dread the inevitable handshakes waiting in my future. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. I bite my cheek and swallow, trying to wake my salivary glands. This meeting has to be perfect . The contract is signed, but if this meeting goes south that means nothing—they can still walk on me for any reason. And so far, this film is the only way I see to win him back.
    Add to that pressure the fact that I’m about to see him . For the first time since Hurricane Carly hit Hollywood shores, I’m going to see Devon and actually get to talk to him. The thought makes me want to hurl.
    I’m in an elevator with a perky ginger zooming to the tippy top of Iliad Films’s sleek office building. My stomach rolls again. I grab it and the sturdy elevator wall.
    “Are you okay, Miss Klein?” She places a hand on the shoulder of my new purple J. Mendel shift. I’m hoping I look equal parts professional and fuckable. Oh, who am I kidding? I need to look 100 percent fuckable, but in a grown-up woman-who-can-handle-her-shit sort of way.
    “This elevator moves so fast,” I lie with a smile, trying to distract myself from thinking of a certain warm body waiting in the boardroom. A very, very warm body.
    The doors burst open and bright white sunshine bouncing off cool stone floors invades the elevator’s depths. I follow my escort down the hallway. My new Jimmy Choos announce every step. I may not be mentally prepared for this meeting—how could I ever be?—but I damn sure look the part.
    She ushers me into a conference room with a huge table and a killer view. Every seat but one is full. They quiet when I enter, obviously waiting on me, following my every move from doorway to empty chair with critical eyes. I’m not late. For the first time ever, I’m actually