Page 49 of Mr. Romantic (Mister 2)

It sounds pretty fucking fantastic to me, but Ivy hesitates.

When I got in my car and started driving off, all I kept thinking about was how I fucked her. How I was the first ever to fuck her. And she never said a word. It blew my mind. I have never had a virgin before. I’ve never had anything other than someone’s sloppy seconds.

It intrigues me. That I could get to know her better. Date her. Keep her for myself. Me and only me.

What a fucking prize, right?

And even though I have no clue what Corporate was thinking when he set all this shit up, I don’t much care.

I think I’d like to be the only man Ivy Rockwell ever fucks.

It’s a dangerous thought. Dangerous. That’s how Claudette described me to Ivy. But once I get an idea in my head I’ll usually do whatever it takes to get my way. Even if it means bringing her here. Taking her places. Getting her addicted. Just like the people down there on that track. You don’t get addicted to one thing or another. You get addicted to all of it. You get addicted to the life. I want her to be addicted to my life.

And it’s working, isn’t it?

One look at her face as she gazes down at the ocean and considers my offer tells me all I need to know. It’s working all right.

I’ve got her right where I want her.

Chapter Twenty - Ivy

I’m wowed. So if that was Nolan Delaney’s plan, he’s certainly succeeded. But… But. None of this makes much sense. Why is he doing this?

Stop complaining, Ivy. He’s still interested, that’s why.

I’m not putting myself down. I’m quite a good catch. And I did appreciate his blow job compliment. I fooled him, didn’t I?

But.

He wants to talk business. Which, in my book, is not compatible with being brought to his home.

And he’s more than I thought he was. A lot more. This house. I didn’t see this coming. I pictured him living in some ultra-modern high-rise penthouse loft near downtown San Diego where all the action is. Where his clubs are. But this house. I don’t even know where to begin.

Nora is rich. And she’s been my best friend for enough years for me to understand the word rich. They have a huge house in Greenwich, Connecticut. Ocean view, private dock. Worth millions of dollars. More dollars than I ever thought about having. Everyone at the Bishop School for Girls was rich. Everyone but me.

And Nolan is up there in that kind of rich category.

But how do I trust a guy like him? Accused of rape. Gang rape. They all were. He has this air about him that reeks of danger. I’m not sure why, because he hasn’t really done anything too unusual. So far.

But.

That one word echoes in my head.

But.

“Ivy?” Nolan presses.

“I’m thinking about it.”

“Why is it taking so long to make a decision?”

I turn to face him and almost wish I hadn’t. His looks. Damn. They are so distracting. Everything about him makes you want to stare. Take it all in and burn it into your memory.

He’s not as intimidating now. Not like he was in his suit yesterday. I like casual Nolan. It puts me at ease a bit.

But maybe I shouldn’t be at ease with Mr. Romantic?

“I need to know more about you,” I say. “I don’t think all this stuff is appropriate, Nolan.”