“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?
Chapter Eighteen - Ivy
I am already packed since I barely brought anything. So all I have to do is slip my shoes on and grab my carry-on bag.
I guess you blew it, Ivy.
I guess I did.
I make my way to the lobby and inform the desk staff that I will be waiting in the bar until the plane is ready. There’s no bartender. It’s not even nine in the morning. But I don’t care. I’m not looking for a drink, I’m trying to hide.
And I’m eternally grateful that I didn’t sit in the main lobby, because a few minutes after I sit down Claudette and Nolan appear. There’s a quick, awkward goodbye, and then Nolan leaves.
I can’t believe how badly this all turned out. And maybe last night’s mistake is my fault, but I’m not responsible for that résumé.
Claudette talks to the desk staff, and then the girl points towards me. Claudette turns around, and I swear, even though she is all the way across the lobby, I can see her eyes squint down in anger.