“And then what?” I can see he needs prodding. I can see he’s ashamed. I can see he has struggled with this many, many times over the years. In fact, I might see more than he intends to show. It’s possible that the infamous Mr. Romantic isn’t as self-assured as he pretends to be.
“I walked the date to her car, apologizing and telling her it was OK. And when I got back to my carriage house I realized I had left the door open. My drawings were inside and so was that girl. My would-be accuser.”
“Did you make her the same offer?”
“No.” Nolan laughs. “No, I wasn’t that stupid. She pointed to the drawings and said, ‘What’s this?’”
“And you told her?”
“I just said a fantasy, Ivy. There was no Fifty Shades of Fucked Up back then to ease people into the taboo.”
“Do you think people who participate in what you do are fucked up?”
“Do you?”
I nod, silently. “Yeah, I do.”
“But you’re still here.”
I nod again. “I’m still here. So I guess we have that in common.”
He relaxes as the server comes to take our order. I don’t even pretend to pay attention to what he orders us, just roll all this new information around in my head.
“She gave me a blow job, but I didn’t fuck her. And I didn’t force her. In fact, by that time, she and I had been drinking for about an hour. Shots, not beer. Two at a time, so we were pretty buzzed. And then she made me an offer. Make the girl in that gang rape drawing look like her so she could fantasize about it later and she’d blow me.”
“And you said yes.”
“When I should’ve said no. How many times I’ve gone back to that one moment and wished I had said no.”
“So how did all your friends get involved in her accusations?”
He shrugs again. “I wouldn’t know. I honestly—swearing on my life and the life of my mother, Ivy Rockwell—I have no clue what everyone else was doing that night. I assume she left my carriage house and went into the main house where she bumped into Mysterious, Corporate, and Match. But I only assume that because they also admitted to coming into contact with her. We don’t know each other’s story.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No,” he says. “Match took over once the cops came and told us what was happening. He was only eighteen, just a freshman. And all of a sudden he took the rest of us into the back yard, into my carriage house, and said, enunciating each word so they were perfectly clear, ‘I. Will. Handle. This. No one says anything to anyone, not even each other. I have a guy.’”
“Who?”
“I don’t know who he was. Not even now. Match called him Five. But I never got a real name. This Five guy showed up, took over, and the next thing we knew, we had lawyers, we were in some house in Connecticut, and we just stayed there until they charged us, booked us, and then got released on bail. We all talked on the phone, but I didn’t see any of the other Misters in person again until after the charges were dropped two years later.”
“Wow.” I try to imagine it all. “Wow,” is all I can say after I do that. “Do you think any of your other friends did anything with her?”
Nolan shrugs. “No clue.”
Chapter Thirty-Five - Nolan
“So,” Ivy says, then stops because the servers come with our food. We wait, nod and say thank you. But I can tell Ivy has something to say about what I just told her.
“Finish your thought,” I say, ignoring the food. “If you’ve got something to say about it, now is the time.”
She pouts her lips a little bit and it’s makes me want to lean over this table and bite them. Right here, in front of the whole restaurant. “So it’s all your fault. It was your drawing. That’s what got you all arrested.”
“Yup,” I say. “It was all my fault.”
“At least it looks that way. We can’t know. Not really. Not unless we get everyone’s story.”
“I like the way you say we in that sentence, Miss Rockwell.”
She blushes, then smiles. “Well, I guess I’m invested in you at this point. I’m taking a risk, Mr. Delaney. I’m trusting you tonight.”
“And I appreciate that. I do.”
“Are you looking forward to it? What we’ll do tonight.”
“More than you can imagine.”
“Why?”
“Why?” I laugh. “Seriously? You’re beautiful, smart, and even though you have less than one week of sexual experience, you’re wild, Ivy. I can tell. And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t feeling a little possessive of you at this point. I got you first and I’d like to think you’re mine because of it.”
“Yours?” She squints her eyes at me.
“Mine.”
“Hmm.” And then she notices the food on the table. Sea bass with toasted barley. “This looks delicious.”
“You look delicious,” I say. “If I didn’t think you’d need your strength tonight I’d make us skip dinner. But you will.”
This makes her take a deep breath. “Tell me what you’re going to do.”
“No.” And I smile when I say it. “It’s not fun if you know what’s coming.”
She takes a bit of her food and then sips some wine. Clearly she has something more to say about that comment, but she’s not sure how to say it. “You want me to feel afraid.” It’s not a question.
“No, not exactly. I want to feel you struggle and I want it to be as real as we can possibly make it. Because what I really want is that moment when you give in.” Fuck. I’m getting hard just thinking about it. “When you realize you want me. When you realize that it feels good. When you realize,” I say, lowering my voice and leaning closer to her, “that you’re going to come and you don’t want to. You don’t want to admit that you like it, but you can’t stop it from happening. No matter what I do to you tonight, you’re going to love it. You’re going to feel good. And you’re going to wish it would never end.”
“I think you have a lot of confidence for a man who knows almost nothing about me. I could stay stop instead.”
I lean back in my chair and nod. “You could. But I don’t think you will.”