Chapter Seventeen - Nolan
“I thought you said your sister was out of town?”
I just stare at Ivy, ignoring my sister’s tantrum. “What do you mean you’re not on your period? Then why were you bleeding last night?” It’s not a lot of blood, but it’s definitely blood.
“Nolan,” Ivy says. “I can explain.”
“Explain what?”
Claudette is still pounding on the front door to the room. In fact, she might be kicking it.
“I just…”
“Wait,” I say, putting the pieces together. “No. It’s not possible. You’re… you were a virgin? Jesus Christ, Ivy! What the fuck is wrong with you?”
She jumps up from the bed as I pull on some shorts. “What are you doing?”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” I look around for her clothes, realize she came here in a bathing suit, and then fish through my drawers until I come up with a shorts and t-shirt for her too. “Put these on,” I say, throwing them at her.
“Why are you mad?”
I grab my hair to think this through as I pace the room. Claudette is still throwing her fit. “I took your virginity?”
Ivy pulls the shorts up and then hastily drags the t-shirt over her head. “Why are you mad about it?”
“Why didn’t you say something? Holy shit. I fucked you hard, Ivy. You can’t tell me that it felt good!”
“Some of it did.”
“Some of it?” I just shake my head at her. “Why didn’t you tell me?” When she says nothing I get angry. “Ivy Rockwell, I need that fucking answer. Now.”
“Because you might not have wanted to.”
“Is this the reason you came here? To trick me into taking your virginity?”
“You’re the one who invited me here!” she yells. “You came on to me!”
I need to calm down. I need a deep breath and about ten minutes to think about this, and I can’t fucking do that with my goddamned sister screaming outside.
“I didn’t trick you, Nolan,” Ivy says.
“But you didn’t tell me, either. Why not? And don’t say because I might have put a stop to it. That’s fucking lame. It’s my right not to fuck you, isn’t it? So what you did, Ivy, was fucking dishonest. Do you have any idea how bad this looks from my point of view?”
“Nolan, look—”
But before Ivy can finish, Claudette comes barging in, having apparently given up hope that I will answer the door and used her master key. “Get away from him, Ivy.”
“Jesus Christ. I’m not dangerous, Claudette. She doesn’t need your protection. Believe me, she’s got her secrets too.”
“That’s why I’m here, Nolan. She certainly does have her secrets. Did you know she lied on her résumé?”
“I did not lie!” Ivy yells.
“Are you trying to tell me that you actually did graduate Brown with an MBA, Ivy? Because I’ve already checked, honey. You’re as fake as that blonde hair you have.”
“I don’t dye my hair!”
“Enough!” I say. “Enough. Now what the fuck is going on here?”
“That résumé she sent us is a lie!” Claudette yells.
“I didn’t send you people a résumé! You came knocking on my door!” Ivy’s face is red and she’s breathing hard, clutching the t-shirt at her chest like she needs something to hold onto.
I took her virginity. I made her give me a blow job. I flipped her over and fucked her hard. I thought she was screaming out of pleasure, but it was fake. It was all a lie.
I hold absolutely still. And in that moment, everything goes still. Ivy goes still. Claudette goes still. And there are about three seconds of complete silence before I look at Ivy.
“You lied to me.”
“Nolan,” she says, taking a step towards me.
“Stop,” I say. “And answer my question. Did you graduate Brown with an MBA?”
She shakes her head, her face nothing but a frown.
I glance at Claudette and find a satisfied look on her face, her arms crossed over her chest, her chin tipped up in smugness, like she’s so very proud that she caught Ivy in this lie. And she doesn’t even know about the other lie yet.
Two lies. Two. I don’t put up with lies. Not even one lie. So the fact that Ivy Rockwell tricked me into taking her virginity and lied on her résumé… well, I can’t.
“I think you need to leave, Ivy. It was nice meeting you.”
Ivy sighs, then nods her head, walks across the bungalow, and out the door.
I look back at Claudette.
“I knew there was something weird about her, Nolan. I told her to stay away from you.”
“Yeah,” I say, angry with her too. “You told her I was dangerous. Just what the fuck, Claudette? Why the hell would you say something like that?”
“I’m not the bad guy here, Nolan. I told her to stay away from you for your protection. And it’s clear I was right. She was lying to get close to you, don’t you see it?”
I can see it, that’s the part I hate so much. Ivy wanted me for something, but she didn’t want me.
She wanted to tell her friends that she tricked the infamous Mr. Romantic into taking her virginity. She wanted me to believe she was something she’s not. She played with me, from the moment she stepped off the jet, right up until the moment she left my room.
I fucked her.
I can’t even think about what it felt like for her last night. I can’t even think about how she will probably twist this story. I can’t even think about seeing my face on the news again.
I don’t fuck virgins for a reason. I don’t want to be careful and I don’t want to be someone’s trophy. I don’t want to be a story that gets told over and over.
“You slept with her,” Claudette says. “Didn’t you?”
I nod, but I don’t look at her. I just go back to my bed and start ripping off the sheets before Claudette—
“Is that blood?”
Fuck.
“Nolan, please tell me you didn’t get rough with her. We don’t need any more shame brought on our family name because of you.”
“Of course not,” I snarl. And I didn’t. It was definitely rough by virgin standards, but I’m not someone who likes sexual blood play. “And fuck you for even thinking that.”
“Then why are you changing the sheets? Why is there blood—Oh, good God. She wasn’t a virgin. Was she?”
“Yup,” I say. “She was. But she isn’t now.”
“I cannot believe that sneaky little bitch.”
I sigh. Because I can’t either. I never saw it coming. I saw exactly what she wanted me to see. An innocent college grad looking for her first big opportunity.
Well, she got more out of this than I did, that’s for sure. So even if she’s not the business-school prodigy I thought she was, she’s damn cunning. She got me.
“I’m calling the pilot right now,” Claudette says. “She’s out of here. Xavier,” Claudette says into her phone. “I need the jet fueled and ready to take Miss Rockwell back to Rhode Island immediately.”
“That’s probably the best idea,” I say, balling up the sheets and tossing them into the corner for the maids to take care of. I sit back down on the mattress and hang my head in my hands, scrubbing them up and down my face for a few seconds.
I’m disappointed.
I’m really fucking disappointed. How could I have been so blind? How could I not have noticed the way she was writhing when I flipped her over and started fucking her from behind? How could I not have seen this coming?
How could Mr. Corporate make such a huge mistake?
I reach for my phone on the bedside table and thumb through my contacts until I find his face. Claudette is still talking, her words coming out in a rush that I need to ignore. I can’t.
I press Corporate’s contact. But it goes to voicemail, even when I try his office. Not even his assistant is answering his calls today. It’s Saturday. And she said he had a full schedule of meetings today.
It’s not unusual for him to work weekends. He does whatever it takes to headhunt the perfect corporate executive. Meets them wherever they are. Travels all over the world.
And maybe it’s not so weird that he doesn’t pick up? How would I know? I’ve barely talked to him over the years. I’m only talking to him now because Perfect and I are still sorta close and he recommended I ask Corporate for help in finding a manager.
I end that call and tuck my phone in my shorts pocket.
“I’m outta here,” I say, dialing the front desk on the hotel phone. “Get my car ready, Denise.” I hang up and look at Claudette. “I’m going back to San Diego for the rest of the weekend. You can hold things down?”
Claudette stops rambling on about Ivy Rockwell, and she nods. “Of course, Nol. Of course. I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry. I’m sorry you got hurt by this. You know I just want to protect you, right?”
“I know,” I say as I pull a shirt on and slip my feet into some old Chucks I’ve had since college.
We walk out of the bungalow together, make our way into the main building, and then say goodbye in the lobby.
My little silver Porsche Carrera is already waiting and I can’t get in fast enough. I tip the valet and slide behind the wheel, eager to forget about this day before it even properly starts. It’s only nine AM.
I shift into gear and speed down the resort driveway, the tall palm trees I paid almost half a million dollars to ship and plant blurring by as I pass.
Why? Why did Ivy do this? How did I misread her so badly? Was it Claudette? Did she somehow taint my instincts? Was I just being stupid? Horny? I’ve been out here for two weeks. No girls, no clubs to run, no fun.
But Ivy has to have an explanation.
Doesn’t she?