Mr. Romantic: A Mister Standalone (The Mister Series Book 2) Page 19

  When we land in Providence, I thank the pilot and get in the waiting Panamera—what can I say, I have a thing for Porsches—and enjoy the drive over to Ivy’s side of town.

  College Hill is way too close to Brown for my comfort level and the only good things about being back in this neighborhood are Ivy and the amazing Colonial architecture. I’ve missed the East Coast. I like the west. I was born there. And I like the South because it reminds me of my mother. But I spent most of my years up here in New England. It was home during all my formative years.

  And they chased me away.

  Ivy’s house is a stately light gray colonial townhouse with authentic white trim. I already know it isn’t hers, but belongs to her roommate. Ivy might’ve come from privilege but she doesn’t come from money.

  I like that, I think, as I pull in front and take a deep breath to calm my nerves.

  What if she says stop? What if I set all this up and she says stop?

  What if I get to the door and she’s changed her mind?

  I will sulk away like a chastised dog. I will probably never try this again with anyone.

  “You won’t know until you get your sorry ass out of the car, Romantic.” I say the words, but in my head it’s Mac talking. He was always the calm one. The rational one. The logical one. Mr. Perfect comes by his name honestly.

  Unlike me.

  I get out and walk up to the low wrought-iron gate, let myself in, and then walk to the front door filled with equal parts excitement, dread, and curiosity.

  The door opens before I can knock and suddenly my face is stinging with a slap.

  I just stare at my date. Her hand is still raised, her expression is one of surprise, and her dress—holy fucking shit, her dress—hugs her curves like it’s painted on.

  “Why did you hit me?” I ask, kinda stunned.

  “Oh, my God.” Ivy starts laughing so hard, she doubles over.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “I’m so sorry! I just figured… oh, my God. I can’t believe I hit you! I really hit you!”

  She’s laughing so hard I start to laugh too. “Ivy?” I say. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m sorry,” she says, waving a hand in front of her face to stop her laughing. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I was thinking that I might want to do that to you later, but I won’t be able to because we’ll be in the fantasy. And even if I did, you wouldn’t understand what it meant. You’d think it was part of the scene.”

  I just blink at her.

  “Shit, your whole cheek is bright red. And my hand is stinging!”

  I reach for the hand that slapped me, place it against my cheek. The heat of the slap doubles as we come skin to skin. And then I hold her palm up to my lips and kiss away the sting. “I get the point.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says through the constant smile.

  I don’t know how I expected this date to start, but this certainly wasn’t it. “Don’t be. I get it. I will probably scare you a little tonight. And this is a good way to get your point across. You,” I say, stressing the word, “are the one in control. Even when you feel out of control.”

  She nods and then takes a deep breath. “I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know why I’m doing this. But I’m going to do it anyway.” And then she bites her lip. “People will think I’m crazy.”

  “No one’s gonna know. This night is a series of private moments between us, and only us. No one will know unless you tell them. OK?”

  She nods, becomes shy again, and then says, “OK.”

  “Are you ready?”

  “When do I say no?”

  It’s my turn to laugh. “Well, I was thinking we’d have dinner first?”

  “Dinner?” She looks surprised.

  “It’s a date. Our first real date. Did you already eat? We can do something else. Get dessert or go for a walk in town. Although, I have to say, walking around this neighborhood brings up all kinds of bad memories.”

  “A walk?”

  “If you want. If you’re not hungry—”

  “No, I’m hungry. I just didn’t expect…”

  I cock my head to the side and grin at her. “Didn’t expect… what?”

  “Romance.”

  I laugh almost as hard as she did when she slapped me. “My name is Mr. Romantic, Ivy. Give me a little credit.”

  “I thought it was ironic?”

  “Not tonight. Tonight you get all of it if you want. The romance. The fantasy. Even the truth if you’re still interested.”

  “The truth?” Her smile drops. “About… that night?”

  I shrug. “If you still want to know. I’ll share. It’s the least I can do considering what will happen after.”

  She looks very uncertain. Does she still want to know? Will it scare her off? Will she see it through my eyes? Or the eyes of my presumed victim?

  “That sounds… perfect. I do want to know. I don’t know what to think about you right now, but I’d like to learn more.”

  I lean into her, pushing her body back, until she almost trips over the threshold. Until we are inside her foyer and I have her pressed against the coat closet. “Good,” I whisper in her ear, my lips dragging down her neck before I bite her shoulder. “Good. Because I’m about to show you everything, Ivy. All the secrets,” I say, taking her hand in mine and placing it over my heart, “in here.” I kiss her on the lips and her mouth is soft, and sweet, and tastes like peaches. “Are you ready for that?”

  She sighs into my mouth and says, “Let me get my purse.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four - Ivy

  I’m breathless as I grab my envelope clutch from the side table. Nolan is staring at me when I turn back, looking like a wolf who wants to eat a rabbit.

  I have been thinking about how this night will go all afternoon. Thinking, and overthinking, and wrestling with cold feet and hot desire for what he’s offering.

  But now that he’s here I can’t help but feel a little thrill. He’s dressed in a very nicely tailored black suit with a yellow silk tie that matches my dress to perfection. And now that the slap has released some of my pent-up apprehension, I realize I want this more than anything else in my entire life.

  More than my first pony, which I bought with my own money. I worked in the school kitchen for two years to afford that pony so I could take lessons on my own horse like the other girls at school. But by the time I got her, I was almost too big.

  More than I wanted the free-ride scholarship to Brown, which was the only way my father could afford to send me there, even with his tuition discount as a board member.

  More than graduating Brown with honors. Not just part of the top twenty percent of my class, but in the top five.

  I want Mr. Romantic, everything he’s offering tonight, more than anything. So I’m going to trust him to keep me safe and make me happy.

  Nolan is smiling so big, I have to suck in a breath. “What?”

  “I’m just happy you agreed.”

  “I’m trusting you for one night, Nolan. Just one night. Please,” I say. “Please don’t disappoint me.”

  He extends his hand and when I take it, he pulls me close again, and says. “I won’t, I promise. But when I tell you the truth about what happened ten years ago, please do me the same favor.”

  I nod, swallowing hard. What does that mean? What did he do? Will I be able to go through with this night after I know the truth?

  “Are you ready?”

  I nod, unsure, yet completely sure at the same time. “Yes. Let’s go.”

  We walk to his car and he opens my door, taking my hand to help me get in, and then closes me up and walks to his side.

  Nolan slides into the butter-soft leather seat and starts the engine. It purrs like a sports car, but it’s a classy sedan, the Porsche logo on the steering wheel telling me all I need to know about his taste in cars.

  “So,” Nolan says, once we are on the road and headed towards the river. “Do you like seafood?”

&nb
sp; “I’m from New England.” I laugh.

  “Small talk, right? I don’t want you to feel weird about the silence that seems to have taken over in the last few moments. Anyway, I got us a reservation at Waterman Grille. Even got them to give us a semi-private table near the river.”

  “Do you plan on starting our fantasy in the restaurant?”

  “You’re the one who gets say go, Ivy.” And then he winks. “Or no, as it may be. The second you say no and I’m doing something rough, we start. So if you tell me to stop playing with your pussy under the table, you’ll regret it later.”

  “Oh, my God. What am I doing?”

  “You’re about to have the most sexually explicit night of your life. Would you like me to tell you how I’ll start it?”

  Do I? “No,” I say, just as Nolan pulls into the parking lot. “I want to be surprised.”

  “Good girl,” he says. When he gets out, I wait. I know he has manners and I’m right. He walks around and gets my door, taking my hand to help me out.

  His arm slips down to my waist and he grips my hip. I am so ready for this night to begin.

  We wait a moment to be seated, and when we’re finally at our table, I have to look at the river for a few moments before the sun slips away and it disappears from view.

  Nolan orders us wine and as soon as the server leaves, his attention turns back to me. “It was a weird night.”

  I realize with a start that he is talking about the past.

  “Perfect took her out on a date but he didn’t like her. That’s what he told me later that night. After I… well, I’ll get to that—Perfect actually took her home. Dropped her off at her dorm and came back to the house. I lived in back. We had this little carriage house back then for the fraternity. After the bad publicity, the Greek association shut that carriage house down. It’s too bad, too. It was nice. And private. But I guess that’s what they didn’t like about it. That I had the whole carriage house to myself. And I made good use of that privacy.”

  Nolan stops, his attention only on me, as the server talks about the bottle of wine he chose and pours some into our glasses.

  “Go on,” I say, taking a sip of my wine once we’re alone again.

  “But she came back to the house too.”

  “On her own?” I never heard this.

  “Yeah. She came to my carriage house because I was in the middle of a fight with my date for the night.”

  “What were you fighting about?”

  “The fantasy.”

  “Oh,” I say. “So you’ve been doing this a long time?”

  He shrugs. “I wouldn’t call what I was doing back then quite the same thing I’m about to do with you tonight. I meant it when I said you do not want an amateur to run this sort of thing. It takes time and experience to understand what it means to you, as a man, and the woman, as well. Since she will be very emotional afterward.”

  “Did you do a fantasy with that girl?’

  “No,” Nolan says, like I should know this already. “No. Never fucked her at all.”

  “Then how did it all get twisted up into so many… lies?”

  “I was trying the fantasy out on my date. The drawings, Ivy.”

  “Ohhh,” I say. “Oh. So you drew her something like what you drew me?”

  He shakes his head. “I drew something a little more graphic.”

  “What?”

  “Gang rape.”

  The words are tossed around in my head as I take in his answer. “Wow. Did you ever live that fantasy?”

  “No. But I thought about it enough to draw that picture and show it to my date that night to see what she’d say.”

  “You asked her if she’d… do that with you?” Gang rape fantasy. I stare at my hands for a moment to try to understand. “What happened?”

  “Not surprisingly, my date walked out. I followed her, trying to explain myself.” Nolan turns his head to stare at the darkening river and then gives me a sidelong look. “She was not convinced… but…”

  “And then what?” I can see he needs prodding. I can see he’s ashamed. I can see he has struggled with this many, many times over the years. In fact, I might see more than he intends to show. It’s possible that the infamous Mr. Romantic isn’t as self-assured as he pretends to be.

  “I walked the date to her car, apologizing and telling her it was OK. And when I got back to my carriage house I realized I had left the door open. My drawings were inside and so was that girl. My would-be accuser.”

  “Did you make her the same offer?”

  “No.” Nolan laughs. “No, I wasn’t that stupid. She pointed to the drawings and said, ‘What’s this?’”

  “And you told her?”

  “I just said a fantasy, Ivy. There was no Fifty Shades of Fucked Up back then to ease people into the taboo.”

  “Do you think people who participate in what you do are fucked up?”

  “Do you?”

  I nod, silently. “Yeah, I do.”

  “But you’re still here.”

  I nod again. “I’m still here. So I guess we have that in common.”

  He relaxes as the server comes to take our order. I don’t even pretend to pay attention to what he orders us, just roll all this new information around in my head.

  “She gave me a blow job, but I didn’t fuck her. And I didn’t force her. In fact, by that time, she and I had been drinking for about an hour. Shots, not beer. Two at a time, so we were pretty buzzed. And then she made me an offer. Make the girl in that gang rape drawing look like her so she could fantasize about it later and she’d blow me.”

  “And you said yes.”

  “When I should’ve said no. How many times I’ve gone back to that one moment and wished I had said no.”

  “So how did all your friends get involved in her accusations?”

  He shrugs again. “I wouldn’t know. I honestly—swearing on my life and the life of my mother, Ivy Rockwell—I have no clue what everyone else was doing that night. I assume she left my carriage house and went into the main house where she bumped into Mysterious, Corporate, and Match. But I only assume that because they also admitted to coming into contact with her. We don’t know each other’s story.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No,” he says. “Match took over once the cops came and told us what was happening. He was only eighteen, just a freshman. And all of a sudden he took the rest of us into the back yard, into my carriage house, and said, enunciating each word so they were perfectly clear, ‘I. Will. Handle. This. No one says anything to anyone, not even each other. I have a guy.’”

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know who he was. Not even now. Match called him Five. But I never got a real name. This Five guy showed up, took over, and the next thing we knew, we had lawyers, we were in some house in Connecticut, and we just stayed there until they charged us, booked us, and then got released on bail. We all talked on the phone, but I didn’t see any of the other Misters in person again until after the charges were dropped two years later.”

  “Wow.” I try to imagine it all. “Wow,” is all I can say after I do that. “Do you think any of your other friends did anything with her?”

  Nolan shrugs. “No clue.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five - Nolan

  “So,” Ivy says, then stops because the servers come with our food. We wait, nod and say thank you. But I can tell Ivy has something to say about what I just told her.

  “Finish your thought,” I say, ignoring the food. “If you’ve got something to say about it, now is the time.”

  She pouts her lips a little bit and it’s makes me want to lean over this table and bite them. Right here, in front of the whole restaurant. “So it’s all your fault. It was your drawing. That’s what got you all arrested.”

  “Yup,” I say. “It was all my fault.”

  “At least it looks that way. We can’t know. Not really. Not unless we get everyone’s story.”

  “I like the way yo
u say we in that sentence, Miss Rockwell.”

  She blushes, then smiles. “Well, I guess I’m invested in you at this point. I’m taking a risk, Mr. Delaney. I’m trusting you tonight.”

  “And I appreciate that. I do.”

  “Are you looking forward to it? What we’ll do tonight.”

  “More than you can imagine.”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” I laugh. “Seriously? You’re beautiful, smart, and even though you have less than one week of sexual experience, you’re wild, Ivy. I can tell. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling a little possessive of you at this point. I got you first and I’d like to think you’re mine because of it.”

  “Yours?” She squints her eyes at me.

  “Mine.”

  “Hmm.” And then she notices the food on the table. Sea bass with toasted barley. “This looks delicious.”

  “You look delicious,” I say. “If I didn’t think you’d need your strength tonight I’d make us skip dinner. But you will.”

  This makes her take a deep breath. “Tell me what you’re going to do.”

  “No.” And I smile when I say it. “It’s not fun if you know what’s coming.”

  She takes a bit of her food and then sips some wine. Clearly she has something more to say about that comment, but she’s not sure how to say it. “You want me to feel afraid.” It’s not a question.

  “No, not exactly. I want to feel you struggle and I want it to be as real as we can possibly make it. Because what I really want is that moment when you give in.” Fuck. I’m getting hard just thinking about it. “When you realize you want me. When you realize that it feels good. When you realize,” I say, lowering my voice and leaning closer to her, “that you’re going to come and you don’t want to. You don’t want to admit that you like it, but you can’t stop it from happening. No matter what I do to you tonight, you’re going to love it. You’re going to feel good. And you’re going to wish it would never end.”

  “I think you have a lot of confidence for a man who knows almost nothing about me. I could stay stop instead.”