The Misters Series (Mister #1-7)

by J. A. Huss

  I do. I open them. And his face is everything I ever dreamed of when I pictured myself with Mr. Mysterious as a teenager. Pure, testosterone-filled maleness. He leans down to kiss me, biting my lip, then my tongue, and then he says, “Come.”

  I wail. His hand clamps over my mouth as everything I’ve ever wanted comes to fruition. Wave after wave of spasming orgasm. His fingers are there on my clit to bring it all home and the ensuing flood of wetness can only mean one thing.

  I did, in fact, squirt all over Mr. Romantic’s desk.

  Pax is laughing, I’m collapsed on the desk, my legs so weak, they tremble.

  But then there is a loud ruckus outside the door.

  “Shit,” Pax says.

  “What? What is that?”

  But Pax has let go of me and he’s pulling up his pants. “Get dressed,” he says. “Quick! It’s your brother.”

  Oh, fuck.

  I scramble around looking for my t-shirt, then hike it over my head just as someone pounds loudly on the door.

  “Pax?” Oliver yells from the other side. “What the fuck are you doing?” The doorknob jiggles as he tries to open it, but thankfully it’s locked.

  I glance around as I smooth down my shirt and make sure my girls are both tucked neatly into my bra. But then I catch sight of my reflection in the glare of the window and realize there’s no way out of this.

  My hair is a mess. I look as well-fucked as any cheating wife I’ve ever followed after pulling a nooner with an illicit lover.

  I whirl around to find Pax just as Oliver begins crashing his body into the door, trying to break the lock. I’m reaching for Pax, desperate to smooth down his hair as he straightens his shirt, when Oliver comes crashing through.

  He glares at Paxton for a moment, breathing hard, nostrils flaring, eyes as angry as I’ve ever seen them. And then he looks at me.

  And every bit of that evaporates. “Cindy,” he says, calm, pulling on the end of his shirt a little, like he’s trying to compose himself.

  “Oli,” I say, smiling. Hoping like hell he’s not going to start shit. “What are you doing here?”

  Oliver glances at Paxton, grinds his teeth and clenches his jaw for a second. “Just looking for my best friend.” He looks back at me. “Hey, Cin, we’ve got a few things to talk about here. Why don’t you go join the other Misses in the kitchen? I hear they’re making dinner… or something.”

  My mouth opens in shock. “Did you just tell me to go to the kitchen?”

  “Cindy,” Pax says. I look over at him and he shakes his head. “Go. I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Yeah,” Oliver says, cracking his knuckles. “He’ll catch up later.”

  I sigh, resign myself to the fact that I was just dismissed, and walk out into the hallway where all the Misters are waiting, wide eyes, mouths hanging open—I get an angry look from Mr. Romantic as he figures out we just fucked in his office—and then I spy Victoria beckoning me at the bottom of the stairs.

  I don’t look back when the office door slams and I pretend not to hear the yelling that comes after. I just follow Victoria through the bustling hotel, past the restaurant, and down a long hallway where we stop in front of one of those double swinging doors you find in commercial kitchens.

  “Well,” she says. “I guess that’s the end of that friendship.”

  “That’s not true,” I say, immediately irritated with her. “They’re best friends. They’re gonna work it out.”

  “Hmm,” Victoria says. “A best friend doesn’t usually fuck the baby sister in his other friend’s office. But whatever. They can have their little fight. All the important stuff is going on in here anyway.” And then she swings the door open and I see all the other Misses, plus my big sister Ariel, huddled around a long stainless steel table.

  “Well,” Ariel says, once they all notice us. “Look who it is. The wandering princess has finally been corralled.”

  “Don’t be dramatic, Ari,” I say, waving a hand at her. “But what are you doing here anyway? What’s all this stuff got to do with you?”

  She grabs something off the table and holds it up in the air. It takes every ounce of self-control not to double over and get sick at the sight of what she’s holding. “What the—where did you get that?” I whisper, my hand over my heart as I stare at the shiny silver envelope.

  “It came to the office in the mail, Cinderella. And it’s addressed to you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight - Paxton

  Both Oliver and I watch Cindy retreat through the door. I catch a glimpse of Nolan, Mac, Five, and West lingering just outside the door before she closes it behind her. And then we turn and face each other.

  “Fuck you,” Oliver says. “Just fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.” He pokes me in the chest with his finger each time he says it, but the last time he pushes with his whole palm and I have to take a step back.

  “Look—”

  “No, you fucking look.” Oliver snarls the words out. “You fucking look, asshole. My sister?” He pauses like he’s still unable to come to terms with it. “My baby fucking sister, Pax? Just what the fuck? Why don’t you just rat me out to the police while you’re at it? Huh? Or chop me up and feed me to the poor? Hey, I got an idea, why don’t I just fucking punch your lights out?”

  The blow comes hard, smacking against my jaw. I’m not expecting it, so my head snaps to the side and my ear starts to ring.

  The second blow clips my lip and blood sprays out onto Oliver’s white thermal shirt.

  I see red. I duck my head and bull-charge him, straight into the desk. He goes flying over it backwards in some kind of circus somersault and actually lands on his feet on the opposite side.

  I lean over.

  He meets me in the middle.

  Eye to eye.

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asks.

  “What the fuck do you want me to say, Oliver? I like her, OK? She came to me. I didn’t… like… seek her out or anything. She came on to me, man. At my fucking house in Malibu. I didn’t know!”

  “That’s funny,” Oliver says, his rage about to spill over. “Because I distinctly remember you spitting out your drink at Corporate’s house two weeks ago when I mentioned I had a sister named Cinderella.” Oliver starts walking around the desk as he talks. “You didn’t think it was relevant then? Instead you decide to keep it a secret, tell fucking Perfect before me, and then proceed to bang her in Nolan ‘sick fuck’ Delaney’s office while everyone else is downstairs!”

  He’s standing in front of me again. Fists clenching.

  “If you swing,” I warn him. “I’ll swing back.”

  He’s in motion before I finish and he connects with my cheek before I can block.

  But OK. I get it now.

  It’s a fight.

  I swing back, clip him in the jaw just before he ducks, and then he rams me, head first, pushing me into the wall. Pictures fall off, and the door flies open. Nolan is standing there pointing at us as he roars, “Knock it the fuck off!”

  But I barely hear it because Oliver’s next swing also connects, this time with the side of my head. My ear absorbs the second shot in less than two minutes and rings even louder.

  Then Mac and West have me by the arms and Five and Nolan are pushing Oliver back to the other side of the room.

  “That’s enough,” Five says, when Oliver continues to shout at me. “That’s enough.”

  Oliver turns on Five then. “How long have you known about this?”

  “Me?” Five laughs. “I found out last night. I came to you today. And now you know too. So don’t go mixing me up with the rest of this bullshit, Oliver Shrike. Remember who the fuck you are.”

  “I know who I am,” Oliver says, swiping the back of his hand across his bleeding lip. “But”—he points to the rest of us—“I don’t know who the fuck these guys are anymore. I’ll tell you that right now. I have no fucking clue who you guys are. I think I’m done here. I think I’m out. Fuck you,�
�� he says, pointing to me. Then Nolan. “And you and your sick shit. And you too, asshole”—to Perfect—“you and your do-gooder bullshit can just all go to hell.”

  “What about me?” West says.

  “You’re the worst of all of them, Corporate.” Oliver sneers his name. “You lie like a motherfucker. I hate liars.”

  “Just calm the fuck down,” I say, shrugging West and Mac off me. “It’s not the end of the world. And you’re one to talk, dickhead. None of us are innocent, OK? Not even you.”

  “Not even me?” Oliver says, spitting blood onto the floor of Nolan’s office.

  “Nice,” Nolan says, taking a swipe at Oliver’s shoulder. “Nice fucking manners, Shrike.”

  But Oliver doesn’t even notice. He’s glaring at me. His blue eyes are tiny slits of anger and he peers at me from under his messed-up blond hair. He’s a big guy. Not as tall as me, but a damn big guy. He looked like a linebacker even as a freshman in college. He looked rough. But now—with his biceps bulging against the tight fabric of his long-sleeved Shrike Bikes thermal, tattoos peeking out from underneath the collar, sweat pouring down the side of his jaw as he tries to contain his anger—he just looks… dangerous.

  “It’s not the end of the world,” Oliver says, repeating my words. “To you. But I had one sister, Paxton Vance. One sister who was smaller than me all growing up. One baby sister who looked up to me as her protector instead of down on me like an annoyance. And you just stole her away.”

  “Oliver,” Mac says. “Come on, man. It’s not like that and you know it.”

  But Oliver shrugs him off when he tries to clap him on the shoulder. “How the fuck would you know?” And then he looks at all of us. “How the fuck would any of you know?” He points at Mac. “Do you have a little sister? Or you, Nolan? Who the fuck knows with West, he’s such a goddamned liar.”

  “Hey,” West protests.

  “I do,” Five says.

  “I know you do, asshole.” Oliver doesn’t take his eyes off me.

  “So I get it. Which is why I told you right away. But look, you’re best friends with Pax for a reason, right?”

  Oliver just shakes his head.

  “You know he’ll take good care of her.”

  Oliver breaks his death stare at me to look at Five. “Take good care of her? Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Oliver—” I say.

  “No.” He cuts me off. “No. You can’t take good care of her. You just fucked her, Vance. You just fucked her.”

  “Look,” I say. “I get it. The office wasn’t appropriate—”

  “No, shit, asshole,” Nolan says. “We are a fucking hotel, you know.”

  “I can’t believe you guys,” Oliver says. “You think this is funny?” He stares at us. All of us, one at a time. And then his gaze lands back on me. “I’m not talking about fucking her, Pax. I’m talking about fucking her over.”

  For a second I think he’s talking about me cheating or something. I’m about to protest when it finally hits me.

  “You ask everyone if I’m normal,” Oliver says, pointing at West. “‘Why doesn’t he date anyone? Why doesn’t he have a girlfriend? How can a guy run a dating site and not have a girlfriend?’ Well, I’ll tell you assholes why,” he says, snarling the last word like a wild animal. “Because you don’t pack other people into your fucked-up baggage and take them on the trip. If there’s one thing my dad made me understand when all that shit went down ten years ago, that was it. You travel to your destination alone. You don’t bring anyone along for the ride.”

  He looks back at me and everything becomes clear.

  “You just got her involved, Pax,” he says, poking me in the chest so hard I have to take half a step back. “You just packed her bags and put her on a runaway train to nowhere. Whoever is doing all this, they’re gonna come after her too. So congratulations, Mr. Mysterious. You’re probably gonna get my little sister killed.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine - Cindy

  Victoria snatches the envelope from Ari’s hand and flings it onto the table. It goes sliding across the stainless steel and drops off the edge onto the floor, out of sight. “She can worry about her junk mail later, OK? We have a serious fucking problem.”

  “Wait,” I say, looking at my sister. “Do I get mail at the office often?”

  “Nope,” Ariel says. “This is the first time that I know of.” And then she narrows her eyes at me like she’s got a follow-up question.

  “OK,” a cute blonde woman says, refocusing our attention. “Look, we’re all on edge right now. None of us know what’s going on—”

  “I know what’s going on, Ellie,” Victoria snaps. “I know exactly what’s going on.”

  And then she’s rattling on a mile a minute about Liam Henry and that guy named Gori and the fact that her father was tortured to death.

  Which totally sucks. Completely sucks. But I’m slowly edging my way around the table until the silver envelope lies like a bad omen on the floor next to my feet. I want to bend down and pick it up, but I can’t. Not without being noticed. So I kick it under the table and try to follow the conversation. Try not to think about what’s inside that envelope. Try not to imagine all the many, many ways this situation just got infinitely worse.

  “What can we do?” Ivy asks.

  “You’re not doing anything,” Victoria says. “You’re pregnant so you’re not doing anything. And you”—Victoria nods to the one called Ellie—“you’re just not cut out for stuff like this, OK? I need Cindy and Ariel.”

  “Wait,” I say, finally catching up. “What’s Ariel got to do with this?”

  “Jesus, Cindy,” Ariel says. “If you’d stop by home once in a while, maybe you’d know.”

  “Know what?” Please tell me she didn’t get a silver envelope too.

  “I’ve been working with Pax and Oliver on this shit since it happened. I know everything.” Ari nods to Ivy. “I know about what happened to you on Martha’s Vineyard—”

  “Wait. What?” I ask.

  But Ari ignores me and nods to Ellie. “I know that Allen jerk reappeared in your life and Ellen Abraham was causing trouble at your work.”

  “Who is Ellen? Allen? What the hell is—”

  “I know about the island, Tori. Everything. Including what happened to your father. But most of all, I am the only one who knows what happened to Oliver that night.”

  That night.

  Just hearing those two words makes me sick.

  “What happened?” Ivy asks. “What part did he play?”

  But Ari just shakes her head. “Sorry, it’s not my story to tell.”

  “Well, good for you Ariel,” Victoria says. “But I know who’s responsible. Liam Henry set up West and I because Lucio Gori Junior wanted me dead. Now he’s dead, but his father is still alive. And I’m sure West wants to think his parents”—she does air quotes as she says that word—“are good enough people. But they’re not. No one buys a child. So can we please put all this bickering bullshit aside and get on the same page for once?”

  “What do you want us to do?” I ask, completely frustrated with all the details I’ve been in the dark about. “What can we do?”

  “I have a plan,” Victoria says. “And it’s a really great one that will get rid of Liam Henry and Lucio Gori Senior for good.”

  “You want us to… kill them?” Ivy asks. She’s stunned.

  “Not us, Ivy.” And then Victoria smiles a smile that reminds me of Paxton when he’s got someone in his sights. “That’s the best part, I told you. We don’t have to kill anyone. We just need them to kill each other.”

  “We—” Ellie starts. But Nolan comes bursting through the double kitchen doors and she stops short.

  We all go silent.

  “What?” he asks. “What’s going on in here? I thought you busy were making dinner?”

  “Don’t be silly, Nolan,” Ivy says, recovering first. “We have Elizabeth for that. And she prefers the regular kitchen when s
he cooks, remember? I mean, why employ a first-rate chef if you can’t show her off to your best friends?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Nolan says, looking us all over as he tries to appear calm. “Right. Sorry, I just figured you were busy making dinner when you all disappeared to the catering kitchen.”

  “What are you doing in here?” Ivy asks. “Aren’t you supposed to be mediating the Mister meeting?”

  “Ahhh, ice.” Nolan smiles sheepishly at Ivy. “I need ice. Two bags, please.”

  “Why?” Ellie asks.

  “You know.” Nolan sighs, then shrugs. “Just… guy stuff.”

  “They beat the shit out of each other,” I say. “Didn’t they?”

  “Nope,” Nolan says, putting a hand up. “Nope. Just a few swings and some shouting, that’s all. It’s cool now.” But his gaze lingers on me for a moment and he frowns.

  I squint my eyes at him, and he redirects his attention to Ivy, who is busy scooping crushed ice from the ice maker into baggies. She hands them over and Nolan is just about to leave when a chef appears through another set of doors and says, “Dinner’s almost ready. I need everyone out so my servers can prep. So please go grab a seat in the Sapphire dining room and the servers will be in shortly.”

  She disappears, but the doors Nolan came through swing open once again. Pax appears, that ridiculous detective coat swinging out behind him as he strides into the kitchen.

  “Pax,” I say, walking towards him. “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” he says, putting his arm around my waist and pulling me close. “Nothing. We’re all good now.”

  Ivy hands him an ice pack for his swollen face and then she and Nolan disappear, presumably to deliver the other ice pack to Oliver.

  “Do you ladies mind,” Pax says, looking at Ellie, Victoria, and Ariel, “just… giving us a minute?”

  “Sure, sure,” the three of them say, exiting the way Ivy and Nolan left.

  When they’re gone I take the ice pack from Pax and place it on his jaw. “You fought.”

  “Just a little bit, Sugar. It’s fine, I swear. We’re OK now. He just…” Pax sucks in a breath. “He just needed to say what he came to say and I said what I had to say. And… we’re good now. We’re just gonna stay here at the resort for a few days to try to figure all this shit out, and then we’ll go back to Malibu and live happily ever after.”