Page 31 of Mr. Romantic (Mister 2)

“What?”

“What’s on your mind?”

“Going home.”

“Should I call the pilot and let you go home?”

“I thought you wanted to hear my ideas?”

“After I fuck you, I said.”

I don’t know what to say after that, and thankfully the servers come with the food. A plate of shell pasta filled with ricotta cheese, topped with melted mozzarella—surrounded by a perfect circle of red sauce that smells so delicious, my mouth starts watering—is placed in front of me.

The chef appears, all smiles, hands behind her back as she looks at us. “I hope you like it. It’s one of my specialties. Nolan asked me to make my favorite dish for you, Miss Rockwell. And I don’t want to mess up your first date, so I’m nervous.”

I look at Nolan, one eyebrow raised.

He looks back, both eyebrows raised. “Taste it, Ivy. Elizabeth is waiting.”

I cut off a small piece because the sauce is still steaming, and place it in my mouth.

Jesus. Yes. I’m very hungry, but this dish is amazing. “Wow,” I say, after I swallow. “It’s perfect.”

Elizabeth bows to me, then Nolan, her smile even bigger than before, and then backs off, and turns away, walking to the kitchen, doing a little fist pump in the air as she disappears through a door.

“Well, you made her night.”

“It’s really good,” I say, our heated conversation over. “I was talking to her earlier. She told me some interesting things.”

“Things you took note of?” Nolan prods as he takes a taste of his own pasta.

“Yes,” I say, unwilling to give him any details.

“Things you won’t discuss with me until tomorrow?”

“If I stay.”

“You’re staying,” he says. “I already know you want to, so let’s get past that. Forget about tomorrow for now, we’ll do it your way. I will hire you, we will sign a contract for your consultation services, and then we’ll discuss it. But tonight—I’m sorry, Ivy. Tonight, we’re gonna do it my way.”

I take a sip my wine, considering my options. Would it be so bad to have this very experienced man as my first?

I mean, beyond my father hating him. My father can’t ever know anything about Nolan Delaney. No way. And beyond the fact that Nolan might catch on to my secret and put a stop to it, thereby humiliating me as I beg him to keep going, even though I insisted we were not going to have sex tonight.

If I could control those two variables, then would it be so bad?

“I would die to be a mind reader right now.” Nolan is smiling at me, his expression nothing but cocky. Nothing but ego and self-assurance.

Nothing but the power he knows he has.

To render women powerless against his charming advances.

He knows I want him. Hell, I’m sure every woman he meets wants him.

I have never felt desirable. I have never felt wanted, not like this. I have never known the touch of a man and what that touch might mean. And I have never made a man want me so badly, I knew, no matter what I did or said, he’d never want to walk away. No transgression would be big enough for him to say no.

I can imagine Mr. Romantic being one transgression after another. And I can imagine all the hearts he’s broken in the process. I can imagine all the ways in which he walks out. All the ways in which he is begged to stay.

“I would die to have your confidence right now,” I say back.