Mr. Romantic: A Mister Standalone (The Mister Series Book 2) (7 page)

“I have,” Nolan says. “I know good advice when I hear it. And yours came with proof. It was clever to take a dip in the pool. Especially wearing those few scraps of clothing you’re calling a bathing suit.”

“It was the only thing I packed, Mr. Delaney. I won’t wear it again if it distracts you.”

“It was very distracting, Miss Rockwell,” he says, sliding out of the booth. “But it would be a shame if you weren’t able to enjoy the pool tonight when it’s cooler out. So don’t let me stop you from swimming.”

“I have it on good authority that I’ll be on a jet back to Rhode Island tonight, Mr. Delaney. So it will hardly matter.”

“I have it on good authority that you won’t, Miss Rockwell. But if you’d like to scale down the reaction you
’
ll get when I see you out in my private pool half naked, you can pick up a one-piece suit in the women’s shop on the west end of the hotel and charge it to your room.”

He makes this little bow with his head and says, “Good day, Ivy. I look forward to the meeting.” And just as he turns he whispers, so low, I might not have been supposed to hear it, “And our midnight swim tonight.”

I stare at his ass until he disappears out of view. He called me Ivy. He’s flirting with me. But why?

“Miss Rockwell,” a familiar stuffy voice says from behind me.

Shit. “Ms. Delaney,” I say, standing up and turning around.

“Are you deliberately trying to piss me off?” She hisses the words in a whisper through clenched teeth. That sweet perfume smell is there again and I realize I hate it. I might even hate her.

“Uh… no.”

“Then why can’t you follow my simple instructions? I already told you not to interact with my brother. How much clearer can I make it?”

“He came up to me. Sat down uninvited. What do you propose I do? Blow my chances at this job by telling him to get lost?”

“We’ve already discussed this—”

“We have, Ms. Delaney. And I’m done discussing it. Your threats are highly inappropriate. I’m here as an applicant, on Mr. Delaney’s request. How that got screwed up and these silly details about your friend the headhunter are not my concern. I’m here and I’m applying for this job. End of discussion.”

“For now,” Claudette snaps.

“For now,” I agree.

“He’s dangerous.”

“I’ve been warned.”

“Then I wash my hands.”

“Consider them clean.” My last words stand final in the ensuing silence and then Claudette shoots me one more angry look and turns away. I don’t watch her as she disappears. Just take my seat and try to pretend that all four diners in this room didn’t hear that.

They aren’t looking at me, so maybe they didn’t. I’m not sitting close to any of them, but still. Who the hell does Claudette think she is? I might be inexperienced in the bedroom but I’m not one to let people walk all over me. I can be a competitive bitch with the best of them and that Claudette has another think coming if she thinks I’ll cower.

There’s no way in hell I’m getting this job now. Not with Claudette on the hiring team. But I can show these people what I have to offer. I don’t even want their recommendation anymore. Screw all of these people.

My new objective is to show them what they’ll be missing when I leave.

Chapter Seven - Nolan

“Goddammit, Corporate! Where the fuck are you?” I tab the screen on the phone and end the call. I need to know more about Ivy Rockwell and her file doesn’t give me nearly enough information. Maybe I can call Mr. Mysterious? He’s got connections. I’m not sure what kind or with who, but I am sure that if you need info in LA, he’s the guy you call to get it.

Nah. I hardly talk to him anymore. And we were never tight. Not tight enough for him to owe me a favor. Plus, Ivy is from the East Coast. He probably won’t have a lot of connections out that way.

Still, I’m dying to know more about Ivy Rockwell. And if I can’t get it through prying, then I need to get it the old-fashioned way.

Seduction.

She
’
s so self-assured. And while I’m not really turning on the charm or making a play—yet—she’s not very intimidated by me.

I like it.

I know Claudette will throw a fit, but I like it. And I need an excuse to get rid of Claudette this evening so I can have that midnight swim. Maybe Ivy will wear that tiny yellow bikini again? Maybe she’ll take my advice and try to find something more conservative in the women’s shop? Maybe she won’t wear anything at all?

I call Shadows, my main club in San Diego, and get Travis, my long-time head of operations. “Hey, how’s everything down there?”

“Good, man. Good. No problems. We’ve got that new DJ tonight. Expecting a big crowd. Called in extra security, got a few more waitresses to take an extra shift. It’s gonna go well, I think. Your presence is not necessary.”

“Not what I wanted to hear, Travis.”

He laughs. “Tell me why.”

“I need to get rid of Claudette tonight. She’s cockblocking me, man.”

“Who’s the girl?”

I hesitate.

“Dude,” Travis says, dragging out the word. “Do not tell me it’s a new hire.”

“She’s not a new hire. She’s an applicant.” I sound a little smug with myself for differentiating.

“Same thing, Nolan. Jesus Christ. Do you want to get sued for sexual harassment? Because that last one is still pretty pissed off. You can’t afford another fuckup.”

“I fucked that one before I hired her. And then fired that one before I fucked her again, so she has no case.”

“It’s not good for business, man. You’ve got a bad rep in this town. Stay away from the employees.”

“I told you, this one is only an applicant. Claudette wants to send her home tonight anyway. Which is fine with me. But I’d like to fuck her after she
’
s fired and before she leaves. So I need you to create an emergency and call Claudette to come down and take care of it.”

“What kind of emergency?
”
Travis is wary of my plans. As he should be.

“Something about me, obviously. That’s all she cares about, right? That’s the only thing aside from my father that will get her attention. So tell her a girl is there saying I knocked her up or something. Make me look bad, Travis. Make me look bad and I’ll co-sign the next time you need a loan for one of those fancy boats you like to collect.”

“It’s not hard to make you look bad. And you’re conveniently forgetting that you were accused of knocking someone up a few months ago.”

“All lies, my friend. You know I don’t fuck without a wrapper.”

“You’re sick.”

“Will you do it?”

“What time?” He sighs.

“Six thirty. Thanks, man. I owe you.”

I sigh as I end the call. Ivy Rockwell. Maybe I can do a search for her online? I open up my laptop and type in her name, adding Brown University to the search.

Nothing for Ivy Rockwell at Brown, but there is a whole bunch of stuff for Ivy Rockwell at the Bishop School for Girls in Bishop, Massachusetts.

Holy fuck. She’s in a uniform.
Don’t look, Nolan. Don’t look
.

But I look.

Her hair is long and blonde in this picture, flowing down over her shoulders, partially hiding the school insignia on her left breast of the navy blue jacket. Her face is probably the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. And she doesn’t look much different than she does now. She has a very innocent vibe going.

A man and a woman are standing next to her. I read the caption.
Rev. William Rockwell and his wife, Sophia, celebrate the graduation of their daughter, Ivy Rockwell, from the Bishop School for Girls
.

Oh, fuck no. She’s a pastor’s daughter?

I think I get hard just from reading that.

Well, I might need to up my game for this girl. She’s probably been schooled in the fine art of saying no. And I can see it, actually, now that I know her little secret. The manners. The high opinion of her virtue. It comes out in ways that are unnoticeable, yet still there, in everything she’s done since she arrived.

Classy.

I had class once. I went to private schools too. Was brought up in with lessons in manners and all sorts of stupid rules. Rules I preferred to break, but still. I can play that game with the best of them.

Well, little Miss Ivy Rockwell might deserve my A-game in order to break through her walls. But one thing is for certain. I will fuck this girl before I send her packing.

Chapter Eight - Ivy

I wander down a wide hallway after I eat my delicious salad in the dining room—the homemade croutons were to die for—towards the west end of the resort. Not really looking for the women’s shop, but if it happens to come up in front of me, I might as well take a look inside.

I can’t stop thinking about Nolan Delaney. He was flirting. It excites me in ways I’m embarrassed to think about. I mean, I actually wish I was at home right now so I could masturbate, that’s how horny his attention makes me.

And he’s counting on me still being here tonight. He wants to have a midnight swim with me.

What else does he want to do?

I spy a fancy window filled with pretty lingerie and stop to look at it. The mannequins are faceless and thin, yet still graceful and slender enough to spark a bit of jealousy in me. How is it fair that a fake woman can pull off sexy far better than I can?

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” A salesgirl is watching me covet the expensive bits of lace, and silk, and chiffon.

“Very,” I say. “But all I really need is a one-piece swimsuit. Mr. Delaney said I could charge it to my room? I’m in family cabana number six.” I can’t help but hide the disappointment in my voice. And even though it’s somewhat dishonest to take him up on his offer for a free swimsuit when I know I’ll be leaving soon, I’m going to do it anyway.

“Well,” the girl says in a low voice. “We have the
best
selection in that area. Would you like to see your options?”

“Certainly,” I say, following her inside the shop.

She stops in front of more mannequins and waves her hand at the display.

“These are… swimsuits?” I ask.

The girl laughs. “Yes, and technically, a one piece.” She winks at me for obvious reasons.

The tops and bottoms of the suits are all
technically
connected, just as she said. But connected is a matter of degree. Slim straps, and in some cases, silver or gold chains, are what keep the two small pieces of fabric from being called a bikini. The one I’m looking at is definitely a bikini, with just a single chain linked from the middle of the bra piece to the middle of the panty piece.

Would Nolan Delaney die if I wore this for our midnight swim tonight or what? I chuckle, and then stop. Maybe he sent me here on purpose?

“Do you have anything more conservative?” I ask.

“Not in this shop. This is what I call the naughty store. We have another shop on the east side with more traditional pieces.”

So he
did
mean for me to stop by this place. Hmm.

“Would you like to try one on? I bet you’d look great in this.” She points to another suit with slightly more coverage than the first. It’s all black and the bottoms have straps of fabric that burst out from between the legs in a starburst fashion and connect to the bra.