The Misters: Books 1-5 Box Set

by JA Huss

  “Shit.” Amy was a manager at one of my clubs. She and I had a similar affair. Not the fantasy stuff. We never got that far. But the whole, I’ll fuck you before I hire you thing. We did fuck. And then I hired her and fired her all in the span of a few months. She was totally incompetent. We didn’t do anything while she was actually working for me, but we did before. And after. Which is why she tried to claim sexual harassment.

  But Match did some digging for me and found out she was an outspoken advocate for the girl who accused us of rape. Some blogger who wrote the most vile things about us online. I don’t know what Match said to her, but the sexual harassment threat disappeared a lot more quietly than it appeared, and I never heard from her again.

  “I think this Ivy girl is in on it.”

  “In on what?”

  “Trying to take you down. You know I was convinced that you were the reason the whole thing blew up.”

  I was the reason. But I never told anyone. Match came and called his friend. And then we were told to shut the fuck up and not say a word, not even to each other.

  So she doesn’t know what I did that night. No one does. Just me and that girl. And she’s dead.

  I sigh and lean against the counter. “For what purpose though? I don’t get it.”

  “Trying to milk us for money, Nolan. How stupid are you?”

  I squint my eyes at my sister. “Don’t call me stupid. I don’t need a college degree to understand your paranoid reasoning, Claudette. I’ve gotten to know Ivy. She’s not like that.”

  “You’ve gotten to know her? In twenty-four hours?”

  “It’s more like thirty-six. And yeah. I think I know her better than you.”

  “She’s trying to trap you. And by the way, Travis confessed that you made him call me and lie about another girl saying she was pregnant. I hope you’re using protection with this one. Or I’ll bet a thousand dollars she ends up pregnant with your child and sues you for support.”

  “I always use protection,” I huff. But it isn’t true. Ivy and I fucked last night with no protection. I pulled out today. Besides, Ivy was the one who tried to warn me she wasn’t on birth control. I was the one who did it anyway. “That girl wasn’t pregnant. And Ivy wouldn’t do something like that. She’s a nice girl.” Far too nice for me, and not because I don’t want her. I do. She’s just a little out of my league.

  “She needs to leave. You need to stop seeing her.”

  “No,” I say. “No. I like her. And as long as she keeps accepting my invitations, I’m not gonna kick her aside.”

  And… she likes the way I fuck. That’s not easy to come by. She’s in for the fantasy, I know it. It’s only a matter of time before we set that shit up. And holy fuck—I cannot wait.

  “You’re going to get hurt, Nolan. I mean it. There’s something fishy about her. Something’s off.”

  “There’s something off about you too, Claudette.” She recoils and puts her hand over her heart like I offended her. “But you don’t see me kicking you to the curb like trash.”

  “I’m just saying—”

  But my sister’s words are cut off by my buzzing phone in my hand. I look down and smile. “Look, it’s Corporate.” I tab the accept button and say, “Wassup, asshole? I’ve been trying to get a hold of you since yesterday morning.”

  “Yeah, I just got home, man. Sorry about that. Some emergency meeting with a big hush, hush contract. Fuckers are trying to drive me crazy. Now what do ya need?”

  “You know that girl you sent?”

  “Which girl, Nolan? I’ve got like a hundred clients right now.”

  “Ivy Rockwell? New England? Just graduated from Brown?”

  “No, don’t recall. And why the fuck would I send you a recent college grad?” He practically snorts. “What kind of amateur do you think I am?”

  “Wait,” I say.

  “What?” Claudette says. “What’s he saying?”

  “You didn’t send her? Are you sure? Ivy Rockwell? Her résumé said she got her MBA while she was still doing undergrad?”

  “Yeah, right!” Corporate laughs. “Brown would never give up the extra years of tuition money. I’ve never heard of Ivy Rocks-her-face, Nolan. Is this what you wanted to talk to me about? Because I thought it was gonna be about that little deal we’re cooking up for Match.”

  “That’s a no, by the way. I’m not in on that. That girl looks wild. You know Oliver, he’d never go for that. But anyway, fuck that shit. I need to know how the hell Ivy Rockwell got her résumé on my desk and how the hell the jet was sent to pick her up, if you didn’t schedule it.”

  “I didn’t schedule it. And you know what? I’m kinda pissed about that. I needed the fucking jet today and I got a sorry, not sorry message from scheduling saying you’ve got it tied up in San Diego. What the fuck is wrong with you? You don’t schedule the jet for a forty-five-minute ride. Do you have any idea how much that costs? No probably not. That silver spoon is so deep down your throat—”

  “Would you shut up for a minute?” I say. “This is serious. I have Ivy Rockwell here. In my fucking Del Mar house. Claudette says her résumé was fake and her father was a Brown board member, just like that last bitch who weaseled her way into my life.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, brother. I never sent her. Can I have the jet now? I’ve got scheduling on the other line. That’s the real reason I called. I need to take a trip and I can’t fly commercial.”

  “Yeah, sure—”

  “Thanks, man. Good luck with the girl. But if I were you, I’d get her the fuck out of there before you’re behind bars again.”

  Corporate hangs up on me and I’m left standing there trying to figure this all out.

  “What did he say?” Claudette asks.

  “He says he didn’t send her. Has no clue who she is.”

  “I told you, Nolan. I fucking told you! She’s up to something. I don’t know what her game is, but she’s not going to win. Get rid of her.”

  And then Claudette walks out of the kitchen and a few seconds later the front door slams.

  I follow, but stop in the living room trying to wrap my head around what just happened. If Corporate didn’t send Ivy, then who did?

  “So…” Ivy says from above.

  I look up and find her on the catwalk. Fully dressed in her shorts and t-shirt. Correction, my shorts and t-shirt. The ones I gave her this morning.

  She walks to the stairs and descends slowly, her hand sliding down the banister as she walks. She’s dragging her little carry-on case behind her. “I take it the honeymoon is over.”

  “How did you get to my resort, Ivy?”

  “Your jet.”

  “How the fuck did you get on the jet?”

  “An invitation. Hand-delivered. I heard everything you guys said. I heard your bitchy sister say that stuff about me. And you know what?”

  She’s mad. Very mad.

  “What?”

  “I’m going to solve all your problems and just go.”

  “I just said Corporate could take the jet. So I can’t—”

  “I don’t need your jet,” she seethes. “I’ve already called an Uber to pick me up and I’ll buy a plane ticket when I get to the airport. I’m not trying to get pregnant with your baby, Nolan. How stupid does a girl have to be to get pregnant with Mr. Romantic’s baby? I’m not interested in your money, or your fancy house, or that jet, or your job.” She practically spits the words out. “And I’m especially not interested in that fantasy of yours.”

  When she gets to the bottom of the stairs she snaps the handle up on her little carry-on suitcase, hikes her purse over her shoulder, and says, “Good day, sir,” as she walks out my front door.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - Ivy

  “Just take a deep breath,” Nora says. “And tell me what happened.”

  What happened was I got in that Uber car and hauled myself all the way down the coast to the San Diego airport where I arrived after the last flig
ht of the day and had to spend the night on the concourse because the Motel 6 was all booked up and I didn’t have an extra two hundred and twenty dollars for the Hilton after I paid for my one-way ticket home.

  And the worst part was that all I kept thinking about was the jet and how comfortable it was to sleep in that bed and order drinks at a bar with a real bartender.

  Stupid jet.

  “Ivy,” Nora says, shaking me by the shoulder. “Why are you crying?”

  What am I supposed to say? Nolan Delaney took my virginity, played some kinky artist game with me, and then asked me to participate in a fantasy rape scene? Oh, and by the way, I didn’t get the job. Even though I had really great ideas! Really, really great ideas!

  “Ivy?” Nora says again. “Do you need a cup of tea?”

  “Yes,” I sniffle. “I’m damaged, Nora. I swear to God.”

  “What happened? Was he rude?”

  “Tea?” I squeak. I want the tea, but what I really need right now is not to have to explain myself.

  “OK. Just sit here and calm down. I’ll be right back.”

  We live in a townhouse, so the kitchen is on the second floor and the bedrooms are on floors one and three. I have the bottom, since this is technically Nora’s place and I only pay rent. She has the master bedroom with the rooftop terrace.

  Nora runs up the stairs to the kitchen to get my tea started and I sit on my bed, still wearing Nolan Delaney’s clothes, and… and… I can’t even say it…

  But I can smell him. His manly scent is all over these clothes. All over my body. And I know that makes me a freak, but I can smell him and it just makes me want to cry harder.

  Calm down, calm down. Nora is going to come downstairs with my tea and start demanding details. And I’m not telling her anything. No one will ever know about this weekend and horrible….

  I stop crying.

  I take deep breaths and try to think of something else.

  Like that stupid Mr. Corporate. Nolan followed me out of the house, saying, “We’ll figure it out,” and, “I don’t think you did anything wrong.” But then stupid Claudette came back and called me a lying whore from the comfort of her ugly Mercedes. And that I was only after Nolan’s money. And that I probably wasn’t on birth control.

  I’ll probably get pregnant from the one time he came inside me and then she will be proven right!

  I want to die.

  And then Nolan said, “Shut up, Claudette! Go home!”

  But she said, “No. I’m not letting you make more embarrassing mistakes and this tramp is…” Well, I don’t remember. By that time, I was walking down the hill, in what I thought was the direction of the main road. But it wasn’t and then the Uber driver charged me extra because I wasn’t at the right address.

  And Nolan and I had a big fight in the middle of the street and people turned on their lights and the cops came!

  I can’t believe this.

  So I just got in the Uber car and said, “Drive!” And he said, “Where, lady?” And then I had to calm down and be all rational and explain. “The airport,” and, “Could you please hurry?”

  It was all very dramatic.

  I sigh, feeling a little better now that I ran it all through my head. I’m still not telling Nora. I can’t tell her what happened this weekend. She will want all the details about losing my virginity and what he did, and what I did, and how it was. And that will lead to the next day and the posing nude for him, and his offer.

  That fucking offer.

  And the worst part is… I can totally picture that yellow dress in my head.

  “I’m sick.”

  “Oh, honey,” Nora says from my bedroom door, my tea in hand. “I’m sorry. Is that why you’re crying? Did you get the shits while you were there? Did you drink that water they have? It does that sometimes.”

  “I think that happens in Mexico,” I whine. “But yes,” I have to say something to account for how upset I am. “Yes, I totally got the shits and I had to borrow these clothes!”

  I cry again. Wail into my pillow. Because I’d rather pretend I shit my pants in front of a hot guy instead of what really happened.

  “I need to go home and see my parents,” I say. “I need to decompress.”

  “Decompress from what?” Nora asks.

  And I really do need to tell her something. So I opt for half the truth. “I didn’t get the job.”

  “Oh, Ivy,” she says “I’m sorry, honey. But you knew that, right? You knew you weren’t going to get the job.”

  “I know, but it’s worse. They said they never asked me to come. And they had a copy of my résumé that wasn’t mine. That’s why I got invited in the first place. It was just some big old mistake!”

  “Well, that’s weird. How do they explain that?”

  “They didn’t. They just sent me home.”

  “Hmmm,” Nora says.

  “So I’m going to go home for a few days and cry about it.” I sniffle. Then wipe my hand across my face.

  “OK,” Nora says, sitting down on my bed and hugging me. “That’s a good idea. A few days away will do you good.”

  “Yeah.” I get up and open my little carry-on. It’s filled with business clothes and right on top is the revealing black bathing suit that someone who is not me put inside my suitcase.

  I realize it must’ve been Nolan and want to cry all over again.

  Suck it up, Ivy.

  I do. I suck it up. I throw my interview clothes into my closet and pack some shorts and tanks, and then slam it shut and fish through my purse for my keys.

  “When will you be back?”

  “I don’t know. A few days, maybe?”

  “OK,” Nora says. “OK, if that’s what you need.”

  I nod. “I need to be with my family. I’ll call you later, OK?”

  Nora pouts her lip and hugs me again. “Drive safe,” she says. “And if you need to have another cry, just pull over and get it all out.”

  “OK,” I say. “I will. Don’t worry about me. Really. I’m OK.”

  “Oh, and I didn’t want to tell you, but I have an interview in New York on Wednesday. A huge PR firm. I’m leaving tomorrow night so I can miss traffic and then go shopping for a new outfit before. So I’ll be gone anyway. It’s good you’re going home. I don’t want you here alone.”

  I feel like a complete loser. “I’m so jealous.”

  “Oh, Ivy,” she says, sad again. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

  But I wave her off and force myself to smile. “Congratulations, Nora. You deserve a good job. Really. I’m so happy for you.”

  She squeezes my arm and says, “You too, sweetie. The right one will come along, don’t worry.”

  That was the right job, I think as I walk out of the house and over to my car. I beep the lock open and then throw my carry-on into the back seat and get in. My ideas were so great. And Nolan never even got to hear them.

  I pull away from the curb and start making my way back home to Bishop, Massachusetts.

  But the only thing I see in my head is that yellow dress he promised me. And the date. The date and the fantasy. And his smell makes it all worse.

  But by the time I drive the hour and a half to my parents’ house, nestled at the end of a winding road in the middle of the Bishop School for Girls campus, I’m all cried out and just need to sleep.

  I greet my parents like nothing is wrong, but then make a hasty excuse to escape to my old bedroom for a shower and a nap, and stillness.

  That damn dress. That dangerous offer. And that dark man.

  Those are the only things I think about.

  I even dream about him. And to my horror, when I wake up, there’s a pool of wetness between my legs.

  I came just from the memory of what Mr. Romantic was promising.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - Nolan

  “Yeah?”

  “Pax,” I say.

  “Who is this and how did you get this number?”

  “Don’t b
e a dick, asshole. Match gave it to me.”

  There’s a long silence on the other end of the phone as Mr. Mysterious works out who’s calling.

  “Nolan,” he deadpans.

  “Paxton,” I say back.

  He lets out a long breath. “I hope it’s not bad news.”

  “It’s not.” Not yet, I think.

  “I hope you’re not gonna sell my house. I still want it back when I’m done.”

  “Dude, it’s not about you.”

  “Then why the fuck are you calling me?”

  Man, this guy. I swear. He’s got no people skills at all. How the fuck he ever got into Brown, I will never understand. “I hear you can find dirt on people.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Jesus Christ.” I scrub a hand down my face and try to be patient with the guy. “I know you, Pax. Mr. Mysterious, remember? All those good times in court ten years ago? It’s Nolan.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Romantic. I know who the fuck you are. What I don’t know is why the fuck you’re calling me on this phone and who the fuck gave you permission to do so.”

  “Match, asshole. I got your number from Match.”

  “What do you want, Nolan?”

  “I… don’t know. I mean… I don’t know. Something feels off, man. I met this girl—”

  “Wait. You’re calling me about a girl? I don’t give out my secret love advice.”

  I decide to ignore him. I think there’s a ninety-nine percent chance he’s fucking with me anyway. So I just move on. “Something is wrong, man. I can feel it. It’s the past, Pax. I just know someone is on to us.”

  “Hm,” he says. “Where are you?”

  “Del Mar house.”

  “I’ll be there in three hours. I’ve got blood on my hands at the moment. So I’m gonna need a shower.”

  The call ends and I just stare at the screen. He could be serious about the blood. Or not. It’s hard to tell with him. He’s my last resort though. Perfect is off on vacation somewhere and Corporate is working some job, I guess. Match lives in Colorado, so he’s too far away. Mysterious is the only one close enough to talk to in person. He’s up in LA doing… whatever the fuck he does. I really have no idea what he does. But I do know he’ll help if he can. He won’t leave me hanging.