Mr. Romantic: A Mister Standalone (The Mister Series Book 2) (12 page)

“Don’t talk about my family like you know them. You have no idea what kind of man my father is.”

Nolan shrugs. “Don’t need to know. It’s the type. The strait-laced type. The kind of people who judge before they know the whole story. I bet he sat in front of the TV and asked his God to punish me for the atrocious sin I took part in. Did he do that, Ivy?”

I huff out some air, disgusted. What does anyone see in this asshole? And he is not even a class-act asshole, like some of the boys Nora or the other sorority girls dated in college. He’s the scum variety.

“He didn’t,
Nolan
.
” I sneer his name. “He’s a kind man who was very good to me.”

“Except for the religious brainwashing?”

“Did you ever consider if I liked the religious brainwashing?”

“Do you?”

“I don’t mind it.” I shrug. “In fact, I like a lot of it. It’s made me the person I am today and I’m quite proud of that. So this stupid idea you have of making me uncomfortable, or trying to get in my good graces because you think I want nothing more than to rebel against the things I was taught—well, it’s not working, Mr. Romantic. You’re not exactly playing your A-game today.”

“Noted,” he says, like he’s done with the topic.

“So I would appreciate it if you’d be professional, if, in fact, you really
do
want to have a professional relationship with me. Got it?”

“Your plan,” he says, not missing a beat. “Did it involve the free room idea you pitched in the meeting? Or was that just a decoy?”

“It does. Somewhat. But I already told you, I’m not discussing the plan unless we have an agreement on how you’ll be paying for my expertise.”

He leans back in his chair, hands in his lap. “I have no intention of taking advantage of you.”

“No, you just want to fuck me.” It was meant to be like a slap. And he was meant to recoil. But he doesn’t react, and I find myself throbbing between my legs just from saying it out loud.

He smirks. Like he knows. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, willing that excited feeling to go away.

It doesn’t take very much to turn me on. And even though there is something about him that says,
Run. Get away. Don’t participate in this conversation. Go back to your room, lock the door, and don’t close your eyes until you’re safely back in your own bed
. I can’t… I can’t stop thinking about the reason I came here.

I bite my lip and wonder how crazy I’d be if I actually let him do what he wants?

“Ivy?”

“What?”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Going home.”

“Should I call the pilot and let you go home?”

“I thought you wanted to hear my ideas?”

“After I fuck you, I said.”

I don’t know what to say after that, and thankfully the servers come with the food. A plate of shell pasta filled with ricotta cheese, topped with melted mozzarella—surrounded by a perfect circle of red sauce that smells so delicious, my mouth starts watering—is placed in front of me.

The chef appears, all smiles, hands behind her back as she looks at us. “I hope you like it. It’s one of my specialties. Nolan asked me to make my favorite dish for you, Miss Rockwell. And I don’t want to mess up your first date, so I’m nervous.
”

I look at Nolan, one eyebrow raised.

He looks back, both eyebrows raised. “Taste it, Ivy. Elizabeth is waiting.”

I cut off a small piece because the sauce is still steaming, and place it in my mouth.

Jesus. Yes. I’m very hungry, but this dish is amazing. “Wow,” I say, after I swallow. “It’s perfect.”

Elizabeth bows to me, then Nolan, her smile even bigger than before, and then backs off, and turns away, walking to the kitchen, doing a little fist pump in the air as she disappears through a door.

“Well, you made her night.”

“It’s really good,” I say, our heated conversation over. “I was talking to her earlier. She told me some interesting things.”

“Things you took note of?” Nolan prods as he takes a taste of his own pasta.

“Yes,” I say, unwilling to give him any details.

“Things you won’t discuss with me until tomorrow?”

“
If
I stay.”

“You’re staying,” he says. “I already know you want to, so let’s get past that. Forget about tomorrow for now, we’ll do it your way. I will hire you, we will sign a contract for your consultation services, and then we’ll discuss it. But tonight
—
I’m sorry, Ivy. Tonight, we’re gonna do it my way.”

I take a sip my wine, considering my options. Would it be so bad to have this very experienced man as my first?

I mean, beyond my father hating him. My father can’t ever know anything about Nolan Delaney. No way. And beyond the fact that Nolan might catch on to my secret and put a stop to it, thereby humiliating me as I beg him to keep going, even though I insisted we were not going to have sex tonight.

If I could control those two variables, then would it be so bad?

“I would die to be a mind reader right now.” Nolan is smiling at me, his expression nothing but cocky. Nothing but ego and self-assurance.

Nothing but the power he knows he has.

To render women powerless against his charming advances.

He knows I want him. Hell, I’m sure every woman he meets wants him.

I have never felt desirable. I have never felt wanted, not like this. I have never known the touch of a man and what that touch might mean. And I have never made a man want me so badly, I knew, no matter what I did or said, he’d never want to walk away. No transgression would be big enough for him to say no.

I can imagine Mr. Romantic being one transgression after another. And I can imagine all the hearts he’s broken in the process. I can imagine all the ways in which he walks out. All the ways in which he is begged to stay.

“I would die to have your confidence right now,” I say back.

And then he frowns.

Chapter Thirteen - Nolan

I frown. Thinking about that statement for a moment.

But then she laughs. “I mean, holy hell. You are so full of yourself, Mr. Delaney, it’s like ego is your superpower. Your picture is the definition of narcissist in college psychology text books. You’re the cover model for self-help books that tell people to believe in themselves.”

Is she insulting me? I can’t tell. “I wrote a self-help book once.”

“I’m not surprised. Was it called
How to Make a Woman Defenseless?”

I narrow my eyes. “Are you implying something?”

Ivy shrugs. “Just curious.”

“It’s called
Rising Above
. Maybe you don’t know this, but Maclean Callister has done some pretty significant things since our days at Brown. He inspired me”—I eye her, gauge her reaction
—
“to rise above the bullshit. And so I wrote that book.”

“Did you publish it?”

“No. The title is ironic. And my lawyers thought it would ruin my chances of building up the resort and garnering investors.”

“So it’s not about rising above?”

“No.”

She waits for me to continue, but I don’t. Fuck it. If she wants to be nasty, I can play.

“It’s about taking the low road?”

“Maybe.”

“And that’s why you’re the most infamous of them all?”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know
what
to think.”

“You sure knew what to think a moment ago.”

“I guess that was before I saw something real.”

I lean even farther back in my chair, studying her. She really looks the college-prep boarding school part. I know. I’ve seen enough of those girls. Hell, I was part of that world myself. But I’m not now.

Ivy Rockwell looks like she never left that world. She looks as protected, and secluded, and every bit as innocent as I imagined, regardless of her proclamation a few minutes ago.

“I told you, this is the real me. All of it. So don’t fool yourself, Ivy. You were right about me.”

“So why admit it before you get what you want?”

I shrug. “Maybe I’ve already lost interest in you.”

“Why? Not that I’m interested in you. But why? It’s like one second you’re into it, and then…” She realizes. She knows. She’s got me. “You
’
re still sensitive about it, aren’t you? Behind that facade of bravado, you’re still pissed off.”

“Wouldn’t you be? If you were accused of something you didn’t do?”

“I think I probably would’ve handled it differently. Gotten better advice.”

“How so?”

“Well, you guys all lawyered up. Refused to talk. That’s what they said anyway.”

“Is that what they said? I really wouldn’t know. I didn’t watch TV for five years after the charges were filed. You don’t know what it
’
s like. You have no idea what it’s like.”

“But if you’re innocent—”

“Then I have nothing to hide? Do you really believe that? Doesn’t everyone have something to hide? Well”—I laugh, shake off the anger
—
“it would’ve been very stupid to talk. That was the best advice I ever got.
Just shut the fuck up
, Match said. We were all there, fucking bewildered. No idea what was happening. No idea we’d be arrested within a week. No idea that every asshole in the country would have an opinion about our personalities, our pasts, our habits. Our guilt.”

“The Misters.”

“Right,” I say. “Do you know why they call me Mr. Romantic?”

“Claudette said it was ironic. Like your book title.”

“That’s not why. I—” But I shut the fuck up. I hear Match in my head.
Just shut the fuck up until my friend gets here
.
He’ll know what to do
. And so we did shut the fuck up. We didn’t even tell each other what happened that night. No one knew what I was doing. I don’t know what they were doing. None of us had alibis, because that stupid bitch was our alibi. Every single one of us.

“She set us up, Ivy. Set us up. Someone was pulling her strings, but we never figured out who. There’s enough enemies to go around, I guess. But I didn’t do anything wrong that night. Not one goddamned thing.”

She looks down at her plate and lets out a long breath. “Sorry for mentioning it.”

Sorry. She’s one of those girls. Sorry. The confrontation makes her uncomfortable. Well, I’m not an apologizer. And I love confrontation. “Don’t be sorry for me. It’s a waste of time.”

“I’m not hungry,” she says, pushing away from the table. “I’m going to bed. If you want to hire me tomorrow, well, fine. I’ll talk about it. But I’m done talking tonight.”

I stand up and put my napkin on my plate, our food hardly touched. “Hey,” I say, taking her hand and placing it on my arm, the way I did when I walked her over here. “I’ll walk you back. And I
’
ll still fuck you tonight, Ivy. Still give you the option to suck my cock. Because once I pay you for your time, it will never happen again.”

She slaps me in the face and walks out.

Chapter Fourteen - Ivy