Page 21 of Mr. Romantic (Mister 2)

He stares into my eyes. Dead on. And if I thought he was intimidating before, it was nothing compared to this smoldering gaze he’s giving me now.

I breathe again. Swallow hard. And take a seat.

You’re weak, Ivy. You don’t have to listen to him. He’s not the boss. He’s no one to you.

“That was quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” Claudette says as she smacks the door closed, sealing them up inside the office.

I glance over at Bram and Daniel, both of whom look shell-shocked over what just happened. “Sorry,” I say. “I didn’t mean to insult you guys. It’s just not fair the way they brought me here just to throw me away on the first day.”

They give me small nods, but neither look at me.

I can hear arguing inside Nolan’s office.

Well, Ivy. You’ve certainly made an impression now.

Chapter Nine - Nolan

“Just what the hell was West thinking bringing that girl here?” Claudette asks.

I have no answer. I’m still thinking about the way Ivy Rockwell just stunned the room.

“Nolan?”

“What?”

“Let’s decide tonight. Send her home. She’s no longer welcome here.”

Claudette’s phone buzzes on the other side of the table. That would be Travis calling. But Claudette is too wound up to even bother with her phone.

“Did you hear me, Nolan? Let’s decide now.”

“Well,” I say, sighing a bit. “I want both of them.”

“What? We don’t have budget for that right now, Nolan. One is enough. Pick or I will.”

“I want both, Claudette. And while you might have a say in my decision, you do not dictate. Understand?”

She stares daggers at me. She has always been little jealous of my power. Even before I became Mr. Romantic and had four filthy-rich instant best friends. The five of us Misters weren’t even close before that girl dragged our names through the mud. We lived in the same frat house, sure. And we partied together like most brothers do. But once we were all implicated in the same crime, everything changed.

Perfect has been proper billionaire from birth. His trust fund is, fuck. More money than I can even imagine.

Corporate comes from a similar situation, though not as global.

Mysterious comes from Hollywood money. Bastard Hollywood money—hush money he always called it—but money is money all the same.

Match comes from some motorcycle empire. His dad is some famous bike builder. Had a reality show back in the day, the way Match tells it. Plus a little somethin’ somethin’ on the side that Match was never too keen to talk about.

And all that money came out to play when the shit hit the fan. We were like brothers—real brothers, not just frat brothers—for two years.

Claudette hated it. I remember that now. I try not to think about that time in my life too much. It’s depressing. It made my father hate me. He always thought I was guilty. He thought we were all guilty.

And Claudette picked up on it. She thought we were guilty too. I waited for her to turn on me. For my father to turn on me. My mother was there, right by my side. She never believed a word. And even though Claudette never acted out when my mother took me away in the divorce and left her behind, it had to sting. I expected her to betray me. Give some kind of tell-all interview about how I was a total player back in boarding school. How Perfect and I used to sneak off campus and go drinking and fucking every weekend.

But Claudette kept her mouth shut back then and she keeps her mouth shut now. She is high-strung. She’s bossy and authoritative and I’m not in the mood. “Ivy can go—”

I stop talking when her phone buzzes again. She ignores it. Again.

“Ivy can go home tonight,” I continue. “I’ll call for the jet.” I pick up my phone and pretend to call the travel scheduler, then have a fake one-way conversation about fuel and flight plans before ending the call. Claudette stares out the window the entire time.