by J. A. Huss
I got her likeness pretty good. I’ve always been good at art. Always had a thing for drawing the female form. Always been a planner. And what better way to plan a night of taboo sex than to imagine it in my head and draw it out to make it real?
No. I’m not done with Ivy Rockwell yet. She’s in for a surprise if she thinks she can just walk out and I’ll forget about what we talked about. If she thinks I’ll just forget and move on without putting on my A-game. If she thinks she won’t be getting the fuck of her life the next time I see her, she’s in for a surprise.
A very big surprise.
Chapter Thirty - Ivy
I lie in bed just thinking about him. Nolan Delaney, the infamous Mr. Romantic. The media always used that word in front of his name. Infamous. It implies a lot of very bad things. None of the other Misters were called infamous. And even though most of the details about what happened that night never became public, Mr. Romantic was the one everybody talked about.
Why?
Why, Ivy?
“Yeah.” I sigh. “I know why.”
Somehow, some way, Nolan Delaney was the one responsible for what happened that night when those five guys were back in college. That was the rumor. The police found something of Nolan’s in that frat house. Some kind of evidence. Something powerful enough to charge five very rich boys, from five very rich families, with rape.
A familiar voice drifts up from downstairs and I wonder what time it is. I lean over and look at the clock on my bedside table. Almost dinnertime.
My parents are very traditional. We have Sunday dinner. I don’t, not anymore. Not since I left home for college, except for the rare occasions I’m home on Sunday evenings. Like tonight. But all growing up my mother has put on a Sunday dinner. And my father, because he’s the dean of the school, would invite various people to have dinner with us. Mostly students, but sometimes important church members.
But the voice downstairs is not a student. It’s Richard.
My father loved Richard. And I’m pretty sure that my mother started planning our wedding the first time I brought him home and he insisted on sleeping in the guest room.
As if I was ever going to let him sleep in my bed. But my mom loved it. Ate it up.
Why is he here?
I check the mirror, horrified that I look as wrung-out as I feel. I drag a brush through my hair and pinch my cheeks to get some color.
OK. Time to get back to real life. Dinner with parents and ex-boyfriend, agenda task number one.
I walk down the stairs of my parent’s historic four-square brick colonial, remembering the high ceilings and amazing view I was looking at yesterday at Nolan’s house.
It feels like a dream. I lost my virginity to Nolan Delaney.
How did that happen?
Get it together, Ivy. Put on the public face and smile.
And that’s how I walk into the dining room.
“There she is!” my father exclaims, getting up to take my hand and walk me into the living room where everyone gathers when guests are over. “Did you have a nice sleep, princess?” He leans down to kiss me on the head.
“I did. Hi, Richard.”
Boring Richard smiles at me.
“Do you feel better, honey?” my mother asks.
“Much. I just needed some sleep.”
“I heard you were on a job interview this weekend,” Boring Richard says.
“You were?” my parents exclaim together.
“How did it go?” my father asks.
“Yes, Ivy,” Richard says. “How did it go?”
Hmmm. Something is up with him. “What are you doing here, Richard?” I change the subject.
“Got a call from Nora this morning. Said you were coming here and I should check up on you.”
My father gives me a weird look. But it’s my mother who asks the obvious question. “Is everything all right, Ivy?”
I open my mouth to say yes, but Boring Richard beats me to it. “No,” he says. “Nora said she was interviewing with someone we all know.”
“Who?” my father asks.
“Richard, it’s not important.”
“She came home crying.” And then Richard turns to my father. “Do you remember Nolan Delaney?”
My father snorts. “How could I forget that scoundrel?”
“Richard,” I warn in a stern voice.
“Well, he invited Ivy to interview for a position in California and—”
“You’re moving to California?” my mother exclaims, dramatic hand over heart in shock.
“Mom—”
“She didn't get the job,” Richard says.
“You’re wrong, Richard. I did get the job.”
He squints his eyes at me. “Nora said—”
“Nora doesn’t know.” I turn to my parents, who are sitting their matching plush chairs, facing me. “I told her I didn’t get the job. The one I was interviewing for. But I did get an offer for something else.”
Richard does not believe me, but I don’t care.
“Yep,” I say, pulling out my huge good-pastor’s-daughter smile. “I’m moving to California.”
Screw Richard. It’s not his story to tell. So I’m going to tell my own story.
“You’re going to work for Nolan Delaney?” my father says. “That awful boy who—”
“They were innocent, Dad. Everyone knows that.” Everyone does not know that, and my father is about to object when I continue. “And yes. I am. I’m going to gather all my stuff and move away. It’s about time. I need a change anyway.”
“How will you afford it, Ivy?” my mother asks.
I can’t afford it. I spent a lot of money on the flight home. Money I really don’t have after tanning out at the pool of our townhouse community all summer, hoping against hope that a job would come through. But I will do anything to start somewhere fresh right now.
I don’t know why I’m lying, but I just don’t want to have this conversation. Especially in front of Richard. “I don’t have all the details worked out, Mom. But I’m gonna go through with it. What’s for dinner?”
The change of subject works, because my mother jumps up saying something about mashing the potatoes and then we’ll eat.
I smile at Richard, who has a full-on scowl on his face now. His familiar cologne makes me wrinkle my nose.
“Well,” my father huffs. “This is quite a surprise, Ivy.”
“A good one though, Dad.”
“I don’t like that boy. There’s something bad about him.”
Yeah, I think. His sexual appetite. “That was ten years ago. He’s not that kid anymore.”
“So you met him?” The question comes from my dad, but I’m looking at Richard, daring him to contradict my lie about the job.
“Yes. He’s very nice, actually.” And when I say it out loud I realize it’s true. “He took me to dinner and I saw the resort. It’s nice, but he really needs a lot of help marketing it. And that’s where I come in. He hired two other men to run the place, but he asked me to be a private contractor for the marketing. So it’s not a permanent job. But I’ll be fine,” I interject before my father can comment about that. “It’s a great opportunity.”
This really isn’t a lie, I decide. Nolan did offer me a contract position. We just never had a chance to get back to business. I might still be able to remedy that if I put together a good proposal. We can forget all about the weekend and start fresh. Forget all about his insane offer to have a fantasy rape date with him. Forget all about his amazing house overlooking the racetrack.
“Well, princess, if you think it’s a good idea, I’ll support you. But I have to tell you that I was partially responsible for his expulsion. Are you sure you want to work for a man you have that connection with?”
“He’s probably using you, Ivy,” Richard says.
“For what?” I ask. But it’s a legitimate question. Why me? I’ve asked myself that so many times. And now that I’m back home, why do I want to go back?
<
br /> “Revenge, I’d imagine,” Richard says.
“No,” I say. “And I’m not going to discuss it.” I tilt my chin up and smile. “My mind is made up.”
“Dinner is ready!” my mother calls.
My father rubs his hands together and pops up out of his chair like he can’t wait to get to the table, and then rushes to the dining room to help my mom.
Richard grabs my arm and leans into my ear before I can follow. “Nora called me. Told me all about this, Ivy. She said you were up to something.”
I will kill her if she mentioned my plan to lose my virginity to Nolan. Kill. Her.
“And she asked me to check on him using the database at work. I had to call in a favor to get this info—”
“What info?”
“You have something in common with a girl he hired and fired several months back.”
“What?” I’m so annoyed that he’s here.
“Both your fathers were on the board of Brown when he got expelled. And she was an outspoken advocate for the girl they—”
“They didn’t do it. Why is everyone conveniently forgetting that fact?”
“How do you know?”
“He wasn’t found guilty, that’s how. You’re a lawyer, you know what that means.”
“He never went to trial because that poor victim was killed. It does not mean he was innocent. You’re the one who’s innocent, Ivy. And naive. I’ve seen the evidence. I went into the office today and it would make you sick to know what they had on him. I’ve seen it all and you’ve seen nothing. You wouldn’t know the difference between a predator and a peacock if they were standing right in front of you. He’s setting you up for something. He called you in for that interview with some kind of sick revenge plan in mind. Just like he did with that last girl. I did some digging and she tried to file a sexual harassment complaint and he shut her down. He’s going to do the same thing to you, Ivy. He’s going to ruin your life to get even with your father for that expulsion.”
I shake my head and huff out some air of disgust. But I gather myself and straighten my spine as I lean into his ear and whisper, “I’m not as innocent as you think, Richard. And thanks for the vote of confidence in my marketing abilities. You know what I’m capable of and yet you are standing here insulting me, my intelligence, and my sensibility. So you can take your advice and shove it up your ass. And if you bring this up again tonight, I will ask you to leave and tell my father that you tried to pressure me into fucking you and that’s why we broke up.”
And then I pat him on the chest and walk off.
Richard excuses himself as my father sets the table, claiming he has to get back to Boston for an early day tomorrow. I smile and make a big deal about missing him as he squints his eyes in fury at me.
But I get my way. I get rid of the ex-boyfriend, have a lovely Sunday meal with my parents, and find some clarity about this whole Nolan Delaney experience.
I’m going to get that job. Even if it only lasts two weeks, I’m going to show Nolan Delaney what I’m made of and he’s going to stop seeing me as innocent.
When I’m done, no one will call me naive again.
*******
After dinner I help my mom with the dishes and then go upstairs, still exhausted even though I slept all day.
The first thing I notice when I get to my childhood room is my buzzing phone. It stops buzzing by the time I pick it up and that’s when I notice thing number two.
I have seven missed calls from an area code in California.
Nolan has been calling all evening.
I smile. Because he’s chasing me now, probably regretting letting his sister say all those awful things about me. Or maybe he really does want my help with the resort marketing? At any rate, when the phone buzzes again, I answer with a cocky, “I knew you’d call again.”
“I’ll be in Providence on Wednesday. Make sure you clear your schedule. We left a lot of things unfinished.”
The call ends.
And that’s when I know—am one hundred percent sure—that Nolan Delaney has no professional interest in me at all.
He still wants me to help him live out his sick fantasy.
Chapter Thirty-One - Nolan
Claudette comes bursting into my office, making the door bang into the stopper, pissed off as all hell. It’s written all over her face.
“What’s this I hear? You’re taking a long weekend? Since when? We’re opening soon and you’re—”
“I’m very aware,” I say, cutting her off. “It’s my resort, Claudette. So I’m very aware of what’s on the agenda this week. But I don’t need your permission to take a few days off. I’m driving to San Diego, getting on a plane, and going to Martha’s Vineyard for a few days. The resort will be fine.”
Claudette cocks a hip and one hand goes to rest there. Ever since our last encounter out in Del Mar she’s been weird. Asking me all kinds of questions. Where am I going? Who was I with? Did I hear from “that Rockwell girl?”
I have not heard from that Rockwell girl. Not since I called her on Sunday and told her I’d be in town tonight. I half expected her to call me back and flat out say, Don’t bother. I’m not interested. And she didn’t, so I’m taking that as a good sign. I also half expected her to call the police and have them serve me with a restraining order.
But what I did not expect was an envelope, Overnight Express, delivered to me here at the resort on Tuesday afternoon, which stated…
I have to put a hand to my mouth because Claudette is still ranting about what the fuck ever and I can’t help but smile.
Which stated… her qualifications for becoming my personal marketing assistant.
It’s cute, actually. It even had a stack of colorful graphs and pie charts. A sneak peek, she called it in the letter, of what she was capable of.
She definitely has balls.
And while I’m impressed with her first attempt at a real-life business proposal—especially after the man she’s proposing it to told her he practically wanted to hold her down on the bed with a hand over her throat—the only business I’m interested in is the one where I rip the wet yellow dress down the middle while she stands in front of me shivering from the cold.
“You’re not listening to me.”
“You’re right,” I tell Claudette as I look over my schedule on my laptop. Everything is clear. The guests we had last weekend are gone now, Bram and Daniel are both working on their individual assignments, Claudette is here. “Look, I hire people to work for me, Claudette. People like Bram and Daniel, each of whom are getting paid a shitload of fucking money to do it. And you—”
“Don’t,” Claudette warns, pointing her polished nail at me. “Don’t you include me in your list of employees, Nolan. I’m a partner.”
“A very minor one, Claudette. I told you that when you offered me money. I didn’t need your money—”
“You did,” she snaps.
“It was nice to have the money, I’m not going to deny it. But I’ve been funding my businesses for a decade with no help from your side of the family.”
“It was your choice to be estranged from our father.”
“Was it, Claudette? Was it? No school was going to touch me after the charges were filed. Sitting around doing nothing for two years was preferable to starting my own business?”
“That’s not what he meant.”
“When he cut me out of the will when I said I wasn’t going back to school, I got the gist of what he meant, Claudette. So it was nice to have you on board with me. Nice, but nothing else. I don’t need another mother.”
Claudette’s lips press together. She hates it when I bring up my mother. “No,” she snarls. “I don’t suppose you do. You had one all growing up.”
“And you had a father. So don’t blame that on me. It wasn’t my fault you stayed with him.”
“She didn’t want me.”
“Well, he didn’t want me.” I laugh. “Same fucking shit.” I slap the lapto
p closed and get up, tucking it under my arm. “I’ve gotta pack. So,” I say, walking towards the door and sidestepping her attempt to grab me by my shirt. I grab her wrist instead, holding it tight. “Don’t,” I warn in a deep voice. “Don’t fucking start with me again, Claudette. I’m serious. If you get crazy, I will buy your ass out of this venture and wash my hands.”
“That’s what you want, don’t you?” The familiar shrillness of her voice is back. I’ve been wondering how long she’d last in this facade she puts on for the public. Claudette has always been high-strung. Like the goddamned thoroughbreds out at Del Mar. Temperamental, and spoiled, and demanding.
It’s her way or the highway. That’s practically her motto. We were as estranged as me and my father for years before she showed up six months ago acting all apologetic. And while I was suspicious, it was nice. It was nice to think that she might’ve calmed down over the years.
But I was wrong. She’s not any calmer now than she was back when we were kids.
“Every day you show me that you haven’t changed, Claudette, makes me want to walk away again. So be careful, sister. I’m not gonna put up with your meddling. Stay the fuck out of my personal life.”
“Or what?” she snaps.
“Or I’ll remove you from it myself.”
I let go of her wrist and push her out of my way, walking into the outer offices towards the stairs.
She follows, screaming. “Don’t do that, Nolan!”
Typical temper tantrum.
“Nolan, stop!” She runs at me, throwing herself into me, so we both collide with the railing of the stairs.
I look down and see the front desk girls looking up, surprised expressions on their faces.
I turn back to Claudette and seethe as I grab her by the shirt. “Lower your fucking voice. You will not start a scene here in front of my employees.”
She gasps and makes a lot of noise, so I let go and just walk down the stairs, doing my best to calm myself as I shoot the girls at the desk a warning look. “Get back to work,” I say as I pass them and make my way into the lobby.
