“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.”