by J. A. Huss
“Some porn star on PornTube was giving lessons.”
“Ah,” Nolan says, placing his hands on my hips and pulling me up to him. “You like porn? What would your father say about that?”
“He would die of embarrassment. And if he ever met you, he’d probably lock me up in the basement.”
“Well, I’m actually a nice guy, Ivy. So I’ll deal with him later.”
I can’t imagine what is going through his head right now. We’re talking about him meeting my father? “Who are you and what did you do with Nolan?”
“What?” He laughs. “I grew up in boarding school too, Ivy. I know the drill. And I’d just like you to know if I want to, I can pass inspection. But forget that for now. I’m fucking hungry and Claudette came storming in and messed up all my breakfast plans. Let’s just go eat.”
He opens the door on his Porsche and I slip inside and try to calm my racing heart as he opens the front trunk and places my carry-on inside.
When he gets in and starts the engine, the whole car rumbles. It all becomes real.
I slept with Mr. Romantic.
I am in his car, going out for breakfast in San Diego.
Yesterday morning, I was in Rhode Island. I had no job prospects, no boyfriend, and no life to speak of.
And now I’m here.
It all seems too good to be true.
Chapter Nineteen - Nolan
“Where are we going?” Ivy asks when we’ve been traveling on the freeway for about thirty minutes.
“Del Mar. Do you like the races, Ivy? The horses are running. So we’re gonna go on down there to the club and have some brunch before post time.”
“I can’t go like this,” she says, pulling on my t-shirt.
“We can stop by my house and you can change first if you like.”
“Yes,” she says quickly. “Please. I actually love horses. I’ve been riding since I was six. And I’ve been to the races before. It’s a fancy affair.”
“It doesn’t have to be. All kinds of people go to the races.”
“Not to the Club.”
I shrug. “They know me. I have a box there. I go all the time in the summer. In fact, you can see the track from my house. So if I don’t feel like going down there, I just walk out onto the master bedroom terrace and enjoy it from afar.”
“Wow, that must be some house.”
“You’re gonna see it for yourself. We’re only minutes away.”
I pull into the private Boca Del Mar neighborhood and Ivy’s eyes go big as she checks out the houses. “Holy crap,” she says. “You’re really rich. I mean, I see the Porsche and you do own that resort. And I know about the clubs. But this is something, Nolan. I’m breathless.”
“You haven’t even seen the view yet, Ivy. You know what’s funny about this house?” I ask, pulling up to my gate and activating the remote control.
“What?” Ivy asks, as we wait for the gate to open.
“I didn’t even want it.” I pull the car forward and Ivy is craning her neck to get a glimpse of the house as we weave around the lush landscaping.
“Why not?” she asks, her head tipping up as I park in front of the house. “Wow,” she breathes. “It’s huge! What’s wrong with this place?”
I get out and go around to her side, opening her door and giving her my hand to help her up from the low-profile car. “Oh, there’s nothing wrong with it. It just wasn’t my thing. But Mysterious owned it before me, and he said he needed the cash. But he didn’t want to sell it to strangers because he likes the races too much. He said he’d be by to watch them in the summers. But he never comes.”
I lead her though the glass front doors, and immediately, there is only one thing to look at.
The ocean.
Well, and the racetrack. You can’t help but notice it, since it’s directly below my house and I have a clear view of everything. The grandstands are filled with people already, even though the races don’t start for hours. The infield is all grassy and ready for the winners who will come, race by race, to be celebrated with trophies and prizes. It’s filled up with lots of people on the big race days, but that’s not today. And the tracks. One turf, one dirt.
“You know why people go broke at the track, Ivy?”
“Who goes broke?” She doesn’t even look at me. Her fingers are pressed up against the glass doors, like she’s trying to get closer to the ocean and the track. This magical place where you can hear thundering hooves and crashing waves in the same instant.
“Gamblers, owners, trainers, whoever. The track is filled with the richest of the rich and the poorest of the poor, all going broke together. And you know why?”
She drags her gaze to me and says, “Why?”
“Because they’re addicted. Not to gambling. Not the way a poker player is. They’re addicted to this sport in a way that has nothing to do with money. They’re addicted to that.” I point down. “The track. The smell of the dirt and the grass. And the horses. The sleek coats and the silks of the jockeys. It’s a different world down there. A different life. And people get addicted to it.”
“Are you addicted?” Ivy asks.
“If you only go once, you’re OK. You know? But if you go back, it’s over. The life…” I slide the patio doors open and the sea breeze rushes in, blowing long wisps of hair that have escaped her ponytail as she steps outside. “It is pretty cool. I didn’t think I’d be into it when I said I’d take the house off Pax’s hands. But I really do love it. I love the sound of the races. The trumpet guy? You know, that guy who blows that horn before the race starts? I live for that in the summer now. It sucks in the winter when the seasons ends and everything quiets down. And I’ve been over there hundreds of times in the past few years. So, yeah. It got me too. But I’m not a gambler. So I’m not going broke paying for the Club or the box. And I’m not an owner. I’m rich, but truthfully, you gotta be some special kind of rich to want to throw away millions of dollars a year on this sport. It never pays out.”
Ivy is caught up in my imagery for a few seconds. And then she says, “Why did your friend have to sell it? Was he in debt?”
“Who knows,” I say. “Who knows why Mysterious does anything. He never came back to visit, the asshole.”
“What does he do? I don’t know if I can recall his face.”
“Nah, he hates being photographed. And what does he do? I’m not sure, but whatever it is, it’s not something typical. Let’s just leave it at that.”
“Your friends all seem to be atypical.”
“Can’t help it,” I say with a shrug. “We got wrapped up in that shit and even though we were never that close before it all started, we got close after. But once the charges were dropped, we fell apart. Just wanted to forget, mostly. I still talk to Perfect. And I hear that Match and Mysterious both talk too. And Corporate shows up every once in a while asking if we’re hiring and need him to find anyone. But then Perfect found a girl last year and, well, he’s settling down. So we were all at a party for him a few weeks back and that’s where Corporate put me on his bachelor hit-list.”
“And you think he chose me?” Ivy points a finger at her chest. “Why?”
“You’re beautiful,” I say, tucking that blowing strand of hair behind her ear. “And smart. Even if it’s not business-school prodigy smart. You still went to Brown, right?”
Ivy laughs nervously, but nods her head. “I really did go to Brown. That’s why I knew about you guys. It’s been a while since all that happened, but it’s like an urban legend on campus for the freshmen. Some Greek Week ritual.”
“Jesus, fuck. Please tell me it’s not about gang-rape?”
“No. Nothing like that. I think it’s a team-building thing.”
“Really?” I can’t help but be interested.
“I don’t know all the details, but they break all the fraternity rushes into teams of five now. And each team has to complete the Rush Week Challenge together. They either all win, and get accepted, or they a
ll lose, and don’t.”
“Hmm. Interesting. But enough about the past. Let’s talk food. You want to go to the club? Or…”
“Or?” She laughs. Nervously. “I have another option?”
“Well, we can see the races from here. There’s really no reason to go out. I can make you breakfast and we can eat on the terrace. And then we can talk business for a little bit. How’s that sound?”
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.”
His smile appears. Like he’s got another trick up his sleeve. “But last night was?”
“Last night I might’ve lost control a little, but the light of day—and your sister—have brought clarity to the situation. I don’t trust you.” There, I said it. “I just don’t trust you.”
“I should be the one who doesn’t trust you. Maybe you did slip that fake resume in the pile? Maybe Corporate didn’t fuck with it? Maybe,” he says, that sly grin still gracing his face. “Maybe you came here to seduce me? Get pregnant and trap me?”
“Please.” I laugh. “I was the one who insisted on a condom.”
“True,” he says, taking my long blonde hair in his fingertips and pulling the hair tie out so it blows in the wind. “But how can I be certain?”
“I’m the one who needs to be certain, Nolan. Not you. I’m not dangerous.”
“Because you’re a woman?” he asks. “I’ve met my share of dangerous women before, Ivy.”
He’s got a point. “Well, I’m just not convinced this is a good idea. I like your house, and your car, and your view. But I’m not sure I actually like you.”
He stares at me for a few seconds. Just the sound of the crashing waves and a low hum of people coming from the racetrack down below. “Would you like to know a secret about me, Ivy? Something no one else knows?”
“What kind of secret?”
“What do you need to know in order to trust me?”
I take a deep breath and let it out. “What happened that night?”
He shakes his head. “No, not that.”
“Why not? If you have nothing to hide?”
“Because we made a pact to never talk about it again. And to be honest, I don’t actually know what happened that night.”
“How could you not know, Nolan? You were there.” What does he take me for? Some simpleton who will eat up his words and accept everything that comes out of his mouth as truth?
“I wasn’t there.”
“What do you mean? Of course you were there. Everyone knows you were there.”
“I was…” But he stops.
“You were what?” I’m dying now, and he’s not getting anything from me until I understand what happened.
After a long silence he says, “I’ll tell you why they call me Mr. Romantic instead. How about that?”
“I already know why. You’re a player.”
“No,” he says. “I told you. That’s not why they call me Mr. Romantic. Claudette was lying. Well, not really lying. She has no idea either.”
So. A real secret. About his nickname, no less. “OK, then tell me.”
“Over breakfast,” he says, that winning grin back in place.
I feel like I just walked into a trap. I feel like a rabbit looking up into the eyes of a wolf.
“You want to take a shower?” he asks. “Freshen up while I cook? Come on, I’ll show you where.”
He takes my hand and leads me inside. The furniture is sparse and there’s not much about it that’s personal. Maybe that’s how he is? Impersonal. And this place says a lot about him. Or maybe all this was left over from his friend and he never bothered to change it?
He takes me through the large living area and back to the front foyer where we climb the stairs and walk down a catwalk that overlooks the view and the living room. It’s lined on either side with cables and steel posts. A very modern version of a railing.
We end up in what has to be the master bedroom because it has the same view as the back yard, but better.
“Here, Ivy. You can use my bathroom. I’ll bring your case up and leave it in the bedroom. Just come downstairs when you’re done and we’ll get started.”
Get started. We’re making a business arrangement. I should stop this. He’s going to tell me some far-fetched story about that night back in college. Something ridiculous that will ease my mind so he can take advantage of me.
Maybe.
Maybe that is what he’ll do.
But I can’t seem to stop myself. I feel a little bit like those people down on the track. Like I’m getting caught up in something. Something that might make me feel good in the moment, but be bad for me in the end.
“Go ahead,” Nolan says as I hesitate.<
br />
I stare out the window for a second, then look back at him, but he’s already walking away, pulling the door to the bedroom closed behind him.
I would like to freshen up. I’m feeling pretty grungy after the sex last night. So I walk into the bathroom and… wow. It’s wow.
A tall window on the far side looks out onto the ocean and my feet are in front of it and I’m staring down at the crashing waves before I even have time to think.
What a life. What must it be like to live a life like this?
I’ve never wanted for anything. I was well taken care of and I had access to the best education. If not in the world, then at least in this country. I grew up with nice things. But that’s all they were. Nice. The school was not… this. It was not luxurious. Yes, we had everything boarding schools on the East Coast have. Swimming pools and modern classrooms. Stables filled with several millions of dollars’ worth of horses. Pretty uniforms and class trips.
But luxury like this is not something I’m used to.
The shower is so extravagant with all the shower heads and knobs, I don’t even know where to start. And the white marble floor complements the white marble tiles. The sparkling glass surround tells me Nolan either has a maid or he never bathes, because there’s not one water stain to be found. The sunshine from outside washes over the room in a soft, golden glow and the sheer white curtains and tall candlesticks make it feel romantic.
Romantic.
Is he… romantic?
No. My laugh echoes right up to the high ceilings.
I turn back to the shower and step inside so I can turn on the water. It comes falling down from the ceiling in a large square pattern, making me step out to avoid getting soaked.
“Well, if one must clean up after messy sex the night before, this is not a bad way to do it.”
I slip Nolan’s t-shirt off my body and his scent almost overtakes me. I wish I could keep this shirt on forever.
The shorts slip down my legs and I step away, kicking them aside.
It’s steamy now, and I can’t wait to get in and stand under that rain shower of hot water. But just as I’m about to step in, the door opens.
