Page 71 of Mr. Romantic (Mister 2)

I was the reason. But I never told anyone. Match came and called his friend. And then we were told to shut the fuck up and not say a word, not even to each other.

So she doesn’t know what I did that night. No one does. Just me and that girl. And she’s dead.

I sigh and lean against the counter. “For what purpose though? I don’t get it.”

“Trying to milk us for money, Nolan. How stupid are you?”

I squint my eyes at my sister. “Don’t call me stupid. I don’t need a college degree to understand your paranoid reasoning, Claudette. I’ve gotten to know Ivy. She’s not like that.”

“You’ve gotten to know her? In twenty-four hours?”

“It’s more like thirty-six. And yeah. I think I know her better than you.”

“She’s trying to trap you. And by the way, Travis confessed that you made him call me and lie about another girl saying she was pregnant. I hope you’re using protection with this one. Or I’ll bet a thousand dollars she ends up pregnant with your child and sues you for support.”

“I always use protection,” I huff. But it isn’t true. Ivy and I fucked last night with no protection. I pulled out today. Besides, Ivy was the one who tried to warn me she wasn’t on birth control. I was the one who did it anyway. “That girl wasn’t pregnant. And Ivy wouldn’t do something like that. She’s a nice girl.” Far too nice for me, and not because I don’t want her. I do. She’s just a little out of my league.

“She needs to leave. You need to stop seeing her.”

“No,” I say. “No. I like her. And as long as she keeps accepting my invitations, I’m not gonna kick her aside.”

And… she likes the way I fuck. That’s not easy to come by. She’s in for the fantasy, I know it. It’s only a matter of time before we set that shit up. And holy fuck—I cannot wait.

“You’re going to get hurt, Nolan. I mean it. There’s something fishy about her. Something’s off.”

“There’s something off about you too, Claudette.” She recoils and puts her hand over her heart like I offended her. “But you don’t see me kicking you to the curb like trash.”

“I’m just saying—”

But my sister’s words are cut off by my buzzing phone in my hand. I look down and smile. “Look, it’s Corporate.” I tab the accept button and say, “Wassup, asshole? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you since yesterday morning.”

“Yeah, I just got home, man. Sorry about that. Some emergency meeting with a big hush, hush contract. Fuckers are trying to drive me crazy. Now what do ya need?”

“You know that girl you sent?”

“Which girl, Nolan? I’ve got like a hundred clients right now.”

“Ivy Rockwell? New England? Just graduated from Brown?”

“No, don’t recall. And why the fuck would I send you a recent college grad?” He practically snorts. “What kind of amateur do you think I am?”

“Wait,” I say.

“What?” Claudette says. “What’s he saying?”

“You didn’t send her? Are you sure? Ivy Rockwell? Her résumé said she got her MBA while she was still doing undergrad?”

“Yeah, right!” Corporate laughs. “Brown would never give up the extra years of tuition money. I’ve never heard of Ivy Rocks-her-face, Nolan. Is this what you wanted to talk to me about? Because I thought it was gonna be about that little deal we’re cooking up for Match.”

“That’s a no, by the way. I’m not in on that. That girl looks wild. You know Oliver, he’d never go for that. But anyway, fuck that shit. I need to know how the hell Ivy Rockwell got her résumé on my desk and how the hell the jet was sent to pick her up, if you didn’t schedule it.”

“I didn’t schedule it. And you know what? I’m kinda pissed about that. I needed the fucking jet today and I got a sorry, not sorry message from scheduling saying you’ve got it tied up in San Diego. What the fuck is wrong with you? You don’t schedule the jet for a forty-five-minute ride. Do you have any idea how much that costs? No probably not. That silver spoon is so deep down your throat—”

“Would you shut up for a minute?” I say. “This is serious. I have Ivy Rockwell here. In my fucking Del Mar house. Claudette says her résumé was fake and her father was a Brown board member, just like that last bitch who weaseled her way into my life.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, brother. I never sent her. Can I have the jet now? I’ve got scheduling on the other line. That’s the real reason I called. I need to take a trip and I can’t fly commercial.”

“Yeah, sure—”