“Oh, don’t worry, Ivy. I don’t get girls in bed by wining and dining them. It’s the talking that lowers all those keen defenses and inner voices telling them to run away as fast as they can.”
She laughs. And this time, I think it’s real. “Well, the rumors seem to be true all the way around. You certainly are charming. And charisma? You’ve got it in spades. But I don’t fall for charm.”
“Is that why Richard is boring? I mean, come on. District attorney’s office? Tell me, does he have grand dreams of public service once his five years are up? State’s attorney, maybe? Federal judge? I’m practically falling asleep as I talk.”
“It’s a noble profession. Putting criminals away.”
“Criminals like me?” I ask with a wink.
“You were never tried.”
“Correct. I never was.”
She presses her lips together, wanting to reply, but afraid to.
“Say it, Ivy. Go ahead. I know you want to.”
She swallows hard and goes for it. “Did you do it?”
I smile as she fidgets in her chair. “Wait until we’ve been dating a week and then I’ll ask you if you think I did it.”
“A week?” Her eyebrows knit together.
“Do you think I’m a one-night kind of guy?”
“Absolutely. But I think you probably make your targets think it’s more, just to get through that one night.”
“Well, I guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”
She gives me an indulgent smile this time. It’s funny. She doesn’t even realize what I’m doing. Putting her through this emotional rollercoaster. Watching her expressions change. Watching her fight her instincts and give in.
“After this dinner I’m going back to my room to sleep—alone—and tomorrow morning I expect that jet to be ready and waiting to take me home.”
“What if I want to hire you tomorrow?’
“What?” She says it loud, too. It echoes off the high ceilings of the small private dining room. “You are too much.”
“No really. I liked your idea, Ivy. And I know there’s more to it. But I really do want to fuck you. So I can’t hire you today or that would be inappropriate.”
Her mouth hangs open.
I reach over and close it up with a fingertip to her chin. “Close your mouth, Ivy Rockwell,” I croon. “You’re making my dick hard just thinking about how you’ll suck it tonight.”
She blinks. Twice.
“Does Richard talk dirty to you, Ivy?”
More silence.
“I’ll take that as a no. I will. I’ll talk dirty to you. Is Richard the jealous type?”
It takes several more seconds for Ivy to catch up on the conversation and then she squints her eyes at me and says, “Yes. He is. And he comes from a mob family in Providence. Ever hear of the Providence mob? It’s infamous.”
“You’re lying. Richard is some stuffy career man who wouldn’t know a mobster from his flaccid little dick. And no one you’re sleeping with is more infamous than me.”
“I’m not sleeping with you, Nolan. That’s final.”
“Not yet,” I say, leaning back in my chair and wishing we were somewhere more private so I could masturbate as she fights my seduction. “Anyway, I know Richard is fake. I even know why Mr. Corporate sent you here.”
“What?” she says quickly. “Why?”
“He’s trying to set us up.”
“What?” This time she’s loud.
“Yeah,” I say, taking a sip of my wine and reaching for the bread. I pull off a piece, butter it, and then place it on the little plate to her left. “Eat that. It’s fucking delicious. This chef I hired can bake like a motherfucker.”
“Why did he send me?” Ivy asks again, ignoring her bread.
I butter a piece of my own and then take a bite and another sip of wine to wash it down. “We’re playing games.”
“What kind of games?” She’s angry now.
“You know Mr. Match?”
“No,” she says, huffing out air that makes a little bit of hair blow up from her forehead. “Not really. I don’t know his real name. But I’ve heard of him.”
“His name is Oliver Shrike and he runs this dating site. Online dating? You ever done that?”
“Absolutely not,” she says, shaking her head and blushing. Which means she totally has. I’m going to get Oliver to look that shit up for me. If she was dating online, she was probably doing it at his website.
“Well, Oliver and his sister own this big dating site. But I was at Perfect’s engagement party a few weeks ago and Corporate comes up to me and says, ‘Don’t you think it’s weird that Match has no date today? Shouldn’t he have a date if he runs the country’s largest online dating site?’
“I shrugged and said, ‘Maybe?’ So then he goes into this whole plan about how he’s going to headhunt a girl for him. And he sends me this ridiculous online dating dossier this morning. A girl for Match. Right as you were pulling up in that limo, to be exact. So I think he sent you here to fix us up because I was dateless at that party too. Which means there’s no Richard. Maybe there was a Richard, once. But he’s not in the picture now. Mr. Corporate is very thorough.”
I have rendered Ivy Rockwell speechless too many times to count today. It gives me a lot of satisfaction. “You’re not eating your bread, Ivy. It’s good. And that fucking chef, man. She even has people making the butter from scratch. Take a bite.”
“Are you for real?” Ivy asks, all her defenses down. “No man is really this full of himself.”
“One hundred percent genuine. You’re getting me tonight, Ivy. I hope you can handle it. Because I’d hate to disappoint Mr. Corporate at the next party.”
Chapter Twelve - Ivy
I… have no idea what to make of him. None. This whole day, this whole experience, has been one mind trip after another. “Why would he do that?”
“I just told you,” Nolan says. His voice is low and filled with ego, and self-assurance, and charm—all wrapped up into one low rumble. His voice is filled with power.
“He’s trying to set you up? On… a date?” It seems silly.
But the look on Nolan’s face tells me I’m reading it wrong.
“What?” I ask.