Page 2 of Tempting Wyatt

I have nothing. No plot, no characters, no conflict.

Nada.

Every idea I’ve come up with feels stale. I’m beginning to worry it’s all been done and I’m out of original ideas.

As I punch in the code for our front door, a ray of sunlight reflecting off my engagement ring catches my eye. Much like calling Malcolm my fiancé, the flashy diamond on my left ring finger will take some getting used to.

We’re attending another dinner party tonight. I remind myself I’ll need to refer to Malcolm as my fiancé instead of my boyfriend. But the minute I step into our home, it’s irrelevant.

The only thing I want to call him is an asshole.

The naked blonde continues riding him like a prized pony on the living room floor, on the rug he and I picked out together at a street bazaar in Dubai last year.

I suck in an audible breath, then let out a pathetic whimper while going into shock. The sound of my keys hitting the floor gets their attention. Both of their gazes are glazed over when they land on me.

“Fuck,” Malcolm utters, moving my former friend, Heidi, and her surgically perfected body roughly off his still-erect dick. It bobs in the air, and I can’t help but notice there isn’t a condom on it.

Not only is he cheating on me in our home, but he’s having unprotected sex while cheating.

The acidic burn of bile rises in my throat.

“Oh my God, Ivy,” Heidi squeals, as she’s tossed aside.

Ironically enough, they’re both gaping at me like I’m the one in the wrong place. Maybe they’re right.

As I stand there, it occurs to me that I should leave. Just turn around and walk out the door, never to return. But I’m frozen, my feet cemented to our hardwood floor, like a statue.

“How. . . When. . . Why would—” I can’t finish a thought.

My brain is eggs scrambling in a hot skillet. My face is numb, a million pinpricks assaulting me, while a trail of fire scalds me from the top of my scalp all the way down my spine.

“Don’t be a child,” Malcolm says easily, standing and covering himself by wrapping a chenille throw from the couch around his waist. “It’s just sex, Ivy.”

Heidi at least lowers her eyes and looks ashamed. Malcolm only appears annoyed at the interruption.

“It just happened, I swear,” she stammers.

“Wait for me in the bedroom,” he murmurs to her before she scurries her skinny, bare ass down the hallway until she’s out of sight.

My eyes widen at his audacity. A hysterical laugh escapes my lips.

“So…you thought since I agreed to marry youyesterday, it was a good time to stick your dick in my friend?”

He frowns at me as if I’m a petulant toddler throwing an embarrassing tantrum in public.

“It’s LA,” he scoffs. “No one here has friends.”

I watch as he strolls past me and retrieves a bottle of water from the refrigerator. Heidi’s red satin micro-mini dress lies crumpled on the floor. Her favorite not-going-home-alone clubbing dress.

Just happened, my ass.

“Apparently, no one here has any integrity or a sense of loyalty either,” I say, surprised at how calm my voice sounds. I’m pretty sure there’s a crimson haze that matches Heidi’s dress forming around my head. It’s already tingeing my vision.

“Look, I get that you’re upset,” he concedes like he’s doing me a favor I should be grateful for. “Heidi came by to audition for the lead inCaptive—you know, the screenplayyouwrote andI’mproducing? We got carried away with the scene. Caught up in the heat of the moment. It’s not a big deal, unless you make it one.”

I nod stoically. “Right.”

Maybe he thinks if he keeps saying it isn’t a big deal, it won’t be.