Mr. Romantic: A Mister Standalone (The Mister Series Book 2) (34 page)

“Nolan—” she whimpers, opening her eyes.

I sweep her sweat-soaked hair aside and tuck it behind her ear. Her make-up is smeared all over her face. Dried saliva on the line of her jaw. There’s a red blotch where I slapped her that last time. “Tell me, Ivy. I need to know.”

And I do need to know. Because I can’t… I can’t be with someone who thinks I’d really hurt them. I can’t outrun this reputation. I can’t outrun the past. What that fucking girl turned me into. I can’t go back, I can’t change it, I can’t even change
me
. Because there’s nothing to change.

“There’s nothing to change, Ivy.”

She squints her eyes at me. She has no idea what I’m talking about.

“I didn’t do anything
wrong
,” I say. I don’t even know where this is coming from. It just pisses me off so bad. “I drew something. People draw things. People make slasher movies and never get accused of the shit they said I did. People write books, and poems, and songs and never get accused of being the fictional person in their art. But I did. Why?”

Ivy’s bound hands come up to my cheeks. She spreads her hands apart as far as she can and places her palms on either side of my jaw. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” I ask. My voice is loud enough to echo off the high ceilings. “For letting that lying bitch change my whole life? For all the fucked-up things they said about me? Still say about me? I sat in that interrogation room, Ivy. For hours. And I had to listen to them say the vilest things about me. My lawyers were there, so they heard it too. And I couldn’t say a word. Not one word.
Just shut the fuck up, Nolan
. That’s all I kept telling myself in that room. Every time I turned on the TV there I was. The police weren’t allowed to release the details of the evidence. The judge blocked it after my lawyers filed a motion for a gag order. But they hinted, Ivy. They hinted that I was one sick motherfucker.”

“I’m sorry,” Ivy says again. “I knew you would stop if I told you to. I had just the right amount of fear and uncertainty—”

“I
am
one sick motherfucker.” I shake my head and roll off of her.

I’m crossing the room, reaching for the lock on the door when Ivy says, “Don’t walk away, Nolan. Don’t walk out, not now.”

“Do you know why I do this?” I say, not even able to look at her.

“Tell me,” Ivy says.

“
No
,” I say, turning to look at her in the bed. “I’m asking you to tell me why. Why the fuck do I do this?”

She sits up on the bed and swings her legs over the side. Her hands are still bound. Her wrists are red and raw from the yellow rope. “Fuck,” I say, walking back to her and reaching for them. I begin unwinding the yellow rope, trying my best not to look her in the eyes.

“I agreed to it.”

“Why?” I ask, looking at her. “Why the fuck did you agree to it?”

“It was exciting.”

I can’t breathe.

“But that’s not why you do it, is it?”

I can only shrug. “I don’t know. I really don’t. I don’t know why, after all that shit that happened to me, why the fuck I’d be fixated on this stupid fucking fantasy.”

“Maybe you’re just trying to prove something to yourself, Nolan. Prove that you’d
never
have done something like that.”

“It was just a drawing. A spur-of-the-moment drawing. Would I like to do a gang bang one day?” I laugh. “Maybe back then. Maybe that’s just something twenty-year-old guys think about? We think a lot of fucked-up shit when we’re twenty. But no. I didn’t really want to do it. It was just… a fantasy. A drawing. And the next thing I know I’m on TV. I’m being pulled in for interrogation. And my friends are looking at me like I’m guilty. And I’m looking at them like
they’re
guilty. And I still don’t fucking know, Ivy. What the fuck they did to her that night that made her lie about me.”

“Maybe she lied about all of you?”

“But why?”

“I don’t know, Nolan.” Ivy is pouting her lips at me. Sad. I’ve made her sad.

“Do you have any idea how badly she fucked me up? She ruined my fucking life. And you know what?”

Ivy stands up and put her arms around my waist, pushing herself into my chest. Her body is chilled and I reach for a robe on a nearby chair. The robe I was going to wrap her in once the play was over. I place it over her shoulders and Ivy presses her cheek into my hot skin.

“What?” she asks. “Tell me.”

“I hate myself for bringing you here. For asking you to do this with me. I fucking hate myself. Every time I find something good, I break it. And now look, I did this to you and I hate myself for it. That stupid lying bitch did this to me. She turned me into this fucked-up piece of shit. She made me become Mr. Romantic. Why? Why did I let her ruin my life?”

“Your life is pretty good, Nolan,” Ivy says. “Even if she did ruin it for a little while, you got back up and made something of yourself.”

“A club owner?” I laugh. “Really? This is all I’ve got to look forward to? I don’t need the money, Ivy. I’ve got money. I’ve got family houses, like this one. More than I need. It’s not about the money. Do you know what I was going to school for?”

Ivy tips her head up and looks at me. “Was it art?”

I laugh. “I guess it’s obvious at this point.”

“And your father?”

“He wanted me to be an artist. He was so pissed off when I didn’t go back. He was so pissed off when I went into business. He cut me out of the will, stopped talking to me. Hoping his grudge would convince me to go back.”

“But you didn’t.”

“Obviously.”

“And you regret it, don’t you? Is that why you bought that land in the desert? To make something beautiful out of the ugliness? I mean, I haven’t seen your clubs, and I’m sure they’re nice. But a resort implies a very different level of clientele. And talk about a challenge. Borrego Springs is not a guaranteed win, is it?”

“I don’t know, really. I’m just…” I look down at Ivy. God, she is so pretty. And sweet. “I’m just looking for something
good
. The land was cheap. No one wanted it. And I could relate to that, you know? I could relate to the feeling of being… discarded. I don’t want to spend my life thinking about stocking the bar with alcohol, or DJ’s, or all the other shit that goes with running clubs. I want more, Ivy. It might be wrong to want more, but there it is. I want more. I want this resort to work. I need this fucking resort to
work
.”

Chapter Forty - Ivy

God, he is so broken right now. I don’t like it. I hate it, in fact. He is a good person. “I was a little scared, Nolan. But every time I got to that point, you were there with something reassuring. The pretty picture stuff. The laugh. Kissing me behind the knee. I knew it was a fantasy. Even when I didn’t. I trusted you to just be… so goddamned good at what you do that I let myself believe. I believed in
you
, Mr. Romantic.”

Nolan shakes his head, but I get a small smile.

“And,” I say, “you’re in luck. Because I told you earlier. I have a great plan for Hundred Palms Resort. I’m here to save you from certain doom.”

“Is that right?” He smiles bigger this time.

“Yes. I have my presentation all geared up and ready—aww, I think I left my purse in your car.” I get a small laugh out of him for that remark and it lifts my spirits. I can’t stand to see him this way. I never once thought about how his past might affect the way he acts now. Not really. I made lots of assumptions. Made lots of accusations, in fact. But it never even entered my mind that he’d be repressing pent-up anger and sadness over what he lost that night. Not just his life, but his sense of self.

“Want me to fly back and get it?” Nolan asks.

“Are we done here tonight?”

“Do you want to be done?”

“Um, no. I can see there’s something going on in the bathroom, Mr. Romantic. I want whatever all that is for.”

Nolan takes my hand and leads me towards the bathroom. There’s soft flickering light making shadows on the walls, and when we enter, the sight takes my breath away.

“You did this?”

“Do you like it?”

I love it. The entire room is filled with candles. And there’s a balcony on the far end, also filled with candles. This is what I saw from outside on the helipad.

“I made that pilot come in here and set it all up before he met us out in back. He was pretty pissed about it.”

“Are we taking a bath?”

Nolan walks over to the tub and checks the water. It’s still steaming. There are pink rose petals floating on top of the water and scattered in between are small ivy leaves.

“God, you really are romantic.”

“Well, I have more plans for this than meets the eye.” He drops his pants and takes off his thoroughly wrinkled dress shirt, throwing it on the ground.

I can’t stop my grin, so I step forward and dip a toe into the water. “It’s hot!” But it feels wonderful after all we did tonight. I step all the way in and the memory of the cold pool water disappears into the thick steam. “Are you coming in?” I ask.

Nolan nods, then gets in behind me and sits down, hissing from the heat. “Sit, Ivy. This is where I make it all better.”

I sit and lean back. His strong hands massage my shoulders as I relax and let the heat overtake me. My body is exhausted, but in a very good way. Nolan leans back and I lean with him. He hikes my leg over his, spreading my legs open so he can reach down and begin to stroke me softly. He doesn’t enter me. I’m glad, too. Just strokes lightly so that the familiar throbbing is back between my legs.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “But I can’t let this go to waste.”

“What—Ahhh!”

The hot wax is dripping down my breast. It makes it to the tip of my nipple, then merges with the water and hardens.

“It’s your turn, Ivy. Just relax and enjoy it.”

I close my eyes and let him do whatever he wants. Which, it turns out, is everything I want too. The wax is hot and erotic. His fingers are gentle and perfect. I come three times in the tub. One as he plays with the candles. Once when he sits me on the ledge of the tub and licks my pussy like he’s starving. And once when I suck him off and swallow everything he has to offer.

Later, when we’re clean and tired in all the right ways, aching in all the right places, and relaxed enough to start thinking of sleep, he leads me out of this room and takes me through this maze of a house and into another one.

Fresh sheets on the bed, fresh candles ready to be lit, pink rose petals scattered all over the floor, and the softest silk lingerie.

That seals the deal for me.

I watch him fall asleep, my body tugged up tight against his, like he’s afraid I’ll walk out in the middle of the night.

I’m in love. I might not be the most experienced woman, but I know what I’ll be missing if Mr. Romantic ever gets away.

Everything.

I’ll be missing everything.

Chapter Forty-One - Nolan

The helicopter jolts me from sleep and I’m up and looking for pants before the sound fades. Mysterious.
Fuck
, I think, searching the other room for my clothes. I forgot all about him.