Mr. Romantic: A Mister Standalone (The Mister Series Book 2) (16 page)

I don’t fuck virgins for a reason. I don’t want to be careful and I don’t want to be someone’s trophy. I don’t want to be a story that gets told over and over.

“You slept with her,” Claudette says. “Didn’t you?”

I nod, but I don’t look at her. I just go back to my bed and start ripping off the sheets before Claudette—

“Is that blood?”

Fuck.

“Nolan, please tell me you didn’t get rough with her. We don’t need any more shame brought on our family name because of you.”

“Of course not,” I snarl. And I didn’t. It was definitely rough by virgin standards, but I’m not someone who likes sexual blood play. “And fuck you for even thinking that.”

“Then why are you changing the sheets? Why is there blood—Oh, good God. She wasn’t a virgin. Was she?”

“Yup,” I say. “She was. But she isn’t now.”

“I cannot believe that sneaky little bitch.”

I sigh. Because I can’t either. I never saw it coming. I saw exactly what she wanted me to see. An innocent college grad looking for her first big opportunity.

Well, she got more out of this than I did, that’s for sure. So even if she’s not the business-school prodigy I thought she was, she’s damn cunning. She got me.

“I’m calling the pilot right now,” Claudette says. “She’s out of here. Xavier,” Claudette says into her phone. “I need the jet fueled and ready to take Miss Rockwell back to Rhode Island immediately.”

“That’s probably the best idea,” I say, balling up the sheets and tossing them into the corner for the maids to take care of. I sit back down on the mattress and hang my head in my hands, scrubbing them up and down my face for a few seconds.

I’m disappointed.

I’m really fucking disappointed. How could I have been so blind? How could I not have noticed the way she was writhing when I flipped her over and started fucking her from behind? How could I not have seen this coming?

How could Mr. Corporate make such a huge mistake?

I reach for my phone on the bedside table and thumb through my contacts until I find his face. Claudette is still talking, her words coming out in a rush that I need to ignore. I can’t.

I press Corporate’s contact. But it goes to voicemail, even when I try his office. Not even his assistant is answering his calls today. It’s Saturday. And she said he had a full schedule of meetings today.

It
’
s not unusual for him to work weekends. He does whatever it takes to headhunt the perfect corporate executive. Meets them wherever they are. Travels all over the world.

And maybe it’s not so weird that he doesn’t pick up? How would I know? I’ve barely talked to him over the years. I’m only talking to him now because Perfect and I are still sorta close and he recommended I ask Corporate for help in finding a manager.

I end that call and tuck my phone in my shorts pocket.

“I’m outta here,” I say, dialing the front desk on the hotel phone. “Get my car ready, Denise.” I hang up and look at Claudette. “I’m going back to San Diego for the rest of the weekend. You can hold things down?”

Claudette stops rambling on about Ivy Rockwell, and she nods. “Of course, Nol. Of course. I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry. I’m sorry you got hurt by this. You know I just want to protect you, right?”

“I know,” I say as I pull a shirt on and slip my feet into some old Chucks I’ve had since college.

We walk out of the bungalow together, make our way into the main building, and then say goodbye in the lobby.

My little silver Porsche Carrera is already waiting and I can’t get in fast enough. I tip the valet and slide behind the wheel, eager to forget about this day before it even properly starts. It’s only nine AM.

I shift into gear and speed down the resort driveway, the tall palm trees I paid almost half a million dollars to ship and plant blurring by as I pass.

Why? Why did Ivy do this? How did I misread her so badly? Was it Claudette? Did she somehow taint my instincts? Was I just being stupid? Horny? I’ve been out here for two weeks. No girls, no clubs to run, no fun.

But Ivy has to have an explanation.

Doesn’t she?

Chapter Eighteen - Ivy

I am already packed since I barely brought anything. So all I have to do is slip my shoes on and grab my carry-on bag.

I guess you blew it, Ivy
.

I guess I did.

I make my way to the lobby and inform the desk staff that I will be waiting in the bar until the plane is ready. There’s no bartender. It’s not even nine in the morning. But I don’t care. I’m not looking for a drink, I’m trying to hide.

And I’m eternally grateful that I didn’t sit in the main lobby, because a few minutes after I sit down Claudette and Nolan appear. There’s a quick, awkward goodbye, and then Nolan leaves.

I can’t believe how badly this all turned out. And maybe last night’s mistake is my fault, but I’m not responsible for that r
é
sum
é
.

Claudette talks to the desk staff, and then the girl points towards me. Claudette turns around, and I swear, even though she is all the way across the lobby, I can see her eyes squint down in anger.

Here we go.

I guess I won’t get out of here without some bruises after all, even if it’s only to my ego.

Claudette’s shoes make a tapping sound as she comes closer, but she stops just at the edge of the bar entrance. “The jet is ready, Miss Rockwell. The car to take you to the airstrip will be here momentarily. Please, wait outside.” She turns on her heel and walks away.

Banished. I’ve been banished from their resort forever.

I don’t bother trying to explain. What does it matter? My fancy weekend is over.

So I get up and drag my carry-on case behind me as I make my way through the lingering haze of Claudette
’
s sick perfume to the front of the lobby. There is no car outside, but I have my orders. So when the automatic doors open, I step into the unbearable summer heat.

A hot desert wind blows my hair and I catch Nolan’s scent coming off the shirt I’m wearing. It’s an old Padres t-shirt. San Diego. Very…
him
.

I will never tell anyone about this. Ever. I will take this humiliating experience to my grave. No one will ever know that Mr. Romantic took my virginity. I will lie to Nora when I get home and tell her nope, no job and yep, still a virgin.

Just like you lied to Nolan.

Did I lie to Nolan? It didn’t feel like a lie. But his words, they are ringing in my head.
Do you have any idea how bad this looks from my point of view
? It was meaningful. It was heartfelt. It was the most emotion I’ve ever seen from Mr. Romantic.

He was referring to the way that girl lied about him back in college. He must have a lot of trust issues. And who can blame him? If I had gone through that, I’d have trust issues too.

And I earned his distrust. Because he’s one hundred percent right. I did come here to lose my virginity to him. At first. But that’s not really what I was thinking when it finally happened. I just wanted…
him
. That’s all. I just wanted his attention. I liked the way he was flirting with me. I liked holding on to him in the pool. Wrapping myself up next to his hard, warm body.

He felt like… like a possibility. Like maybe he and I might turn into something more. Like he and I were special.

That is so stupid.

I haven
’
t even known him for twenty-four hours.

But… I can imagine, in a fantastical kind of way, that we made a connection. When he talked about himself I only wanted to hear more. When we were having sex, before he got rough, it was perfect. It felt good.
He
felt good.

A long black car pulls up, and while I was almost certain that Claudette would make me take a taxi, she didn’t. It’s for me. Not the same driver from before.

He puts my carry-on in the trunk and then we’re on our way.

I look out the back window as the tall palm trees flash by, and twenty minutes later, we’re at the airstrip.

It’s not busy here. Who is flying in and out of Borrego Springs in August? Just me.

I thank the driver and take my case.

“Miss Rockwell!” I look up at my name and spy Jerry, the flight attendant, waving at me from the top of the stairs. I wave back. “Did you have a nice stay?” he asks, once I’m in earshot.

“Yes,” I lie. “Very nice. But no job offers, unfortunately.”

“Well, it’s not over for you yet, Ivy Rockwell. I know you’re going places, so don't worry too much.”

“You’re right,” I say. “And you know, I’m really tired, so can I take you up on the offer of a bedroom during the flight?”

“Sure,” Jerry says, leading me towards the back of the jet. He pulls a panel aside to reveal a small room filled mostly with a large bed. It’s tight, but I don’t care. I keep my purse, but nothing else, and the minute he closes the door back up, I fall face-first onto the soft comforter.

And cry.

I sit up and rub my eyes. We’re still in the air, so I’m still stuck in this nightmare. I get up and grab my purse and open the door. There’s a bathroom across the hall. I know this from the last trip on the plane.

I try to close the door as quietly as I can so Jerry won’t know I’m awake, but there’s a knock as soon as I engage the lock.

I disengage and open the door to Jerry’s smiling face. Can’t put anything over on him.

“Miss Rockwell, as soon as you’re done in there I’m going to need you to take your seat and buckle in. We’ll be landing soon.”

“We will? Jesus, I must’ve slept for a long time.”

“We’ve only been in the air for about twenty minutes.”

“What? Then why are we landing?”

“We’re only going to San Diego.” He shoots me a puzzled look.

“What? No, I’m supposed to go home! To Rhode Island!”

“Mr. Delaney came by just before you did and told us to bring you to San Diego. He said you have a second interview.”

“He did?”

Jerry cocks his head and gives me a funny look. “You didn’t?”

“I… I don’t know. We had an unexpected end to our morning. Claudette—”

“Don’t say the demon’s name,” Jerry says, rolling his eyes. “I completely understand. She’s horrible, right?”

“Right?” I ask back, smiling now that I have a friend. “I hate her. She’s a liar too.”

“Don’t get me started, Miss Rockwell. But hurry now. Use the facilities and come up front so you can buckle in. We’ll be landing in a few minutes.”

I do as I’m told and quickly make my way to the front where I buckle in to a plush leather seat just as the pilot announces our final descent.

The landing is smooth and easy, and my stomach starts fluttering when I suddenly realize what’s happening.

Nolan didn’t walk out on me this morning.

He brought me here to San Diego against Claudette’s wishes to see him.

It’s all I can do to hold still as we taxi, and then I have to wait until the stairs are pushed up to the jet and the door is opened. I say a quick, “Thanks,” to Jerry and rush out.

There he is. About a hundred yards away, leaning casually on a silver Porsche with his arms folded across his chest. I don’t know what this about at all. But the only way to find out is to walk over to him.

I take a deep breath and one step at a time, I get closer. Even in his casual, grungy clothes, he is beautiful. I realize how tan his skin is in the bright morning sun. How muscular his arms are. When I get up close enough to talk without shouting, I realize he’s trying very hard not to smile.

“What are we doing?”

He shrugs and unleashes the grin, flipping his sunglasses up onto his head. “I told you, Miss Rockwell, if you let me fuck you last night I’d hire you and get your expertise this morning.”

“But Claudette—”

“Fuck Claudette. She has my best interests in mind, but she’s not my mother. I don’t answer to Claudette, or anyone else, for that matter. So if I want to have sex with you and hire you the next day, I will.”