Mr green mr series book.., p.1
Mr. Green (Mr. Series Book 2), page 1
Mr. Green
Book 2
Mr. Series
Nicole Rome
Copyright © 2025 by Nicole Rome.
Mr. Green
All Rights Reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electrical or mechanical methods, without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.
Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictious manner. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Book Cover by: 100 Covers
Edited by: Siobhán Jones and Samantha Cumerlato
ISBN: 979-8-9987528-3-4
Table of Contents
Copyright
Author’s Note
Disclaimer
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Epilogue
Thank you, you fabulous bookworm!
Acknowledgements
For the women who’ve forgotten
how amazing they are
Author’s Note
This book is intended for mature audiences. Mr. Green is part of an interconnected series, but can be read as a standalone, steamy romance.
Please be aware this book contains foul language, graphic sexual content, jealousy, outright arguments, signs of depression, emotional abuse, depreciating thoughts, self-esteem issues, loneliness, and rejection. It also involves a male main character who can have bossy and controlling behavior.
Just a heads up, Lana, the female main character, is self-conscious about her body. Please don’t mean to take this as the author writing about your body type and what you should look like. Whatever size you are, you are absolutely beautiful. So many women, myself included, struggle with how they’re supposed to look and I felt like Lana’s story needed to be told.
If it’s not your thing, I understand.
Don’t worry, there’s a HEA.
Also in the Mr. Series:
Mr. Red
Disclaimer
This book, Mr. Green by Nicole Rome, is offered for entertainment purposes and not intended to serve as medical or professional advice. You should not rely on this health information as a substitute for, nor does it replace professional medical advice, diagnosis, or treatment. See a fitness or medical professional to give you advice on exercise, nutrition, or body plan goals. The author is not a health professional or giving advice, and therefore will not be responsible for any injury or harm you sustain as a result of this book.
Chapter 1
Lana
Every time I cook these days, I end up disappointed. It tastes like an ingredient is missing. I stare down at my hand stirring the waffle batter clockwise in the teal mixing bowl—cooking something anyways. The spoon keeps moving—like it’s so easy. “Just go forward,” it taunts. A scoff escapes as I glare at the utensil. Turning away from my task is the most logical thing to do. There’s no reason to be mad at an inanimate object for moving along—it’s what I should be doing.
I turn on the waffle iron and wait with my backside leaning against the counter. Then I check my phone—no texts or missed calls. I open my social media apps next—no new notifications. Just like yesterday. He hasn’t reached out. I swipe at the tear rolling down my face, clenching my jaw, angry the little drop fell.
Shifting from foot to foot, I wait for the red dot to appear. When it finally does, I put the batter into the waffle iron. The sweet smell lingers throughout my home, making my stomach gurgle. I grab one of my colorful plates; at least they have some personality. Then I sit down to eat. Even though I’m excited for my meal, the waffles taste bland as usual. I shouldn’t have made them. It was a waste of time.
At this point, I’m sure the missing ingredient is love.
After I’m done eating, I clean up my dishes and make my way to the bathroom. Maybe today is the day. Today is the day I’ll realize I don’t need a guy to make me happy. I’m worthy. I’m amazing. I’m the best goddamn thing that happened to this world.
I sigh once I reach the mirror, face to face with the strange person staring back at me. Maybe tomorrow.
The woman in the reflection has lifeless brown eyes with dark circles underneath them, slumped shoulders, and an overall dull demeanor. The same thoughts I’ve had for the last year or so creep into the forefront of my mind.
You’re not pretty enough. You were never good enough. Why would anybody love you?
I remove my glasses, thinking it’ll help me not see the horrid reflection staring back. I hop in the shower before more tears start falling, trying to think of something else—anything else. I lather on my favorite lavender body wash and inhale, the familiar scent releasing pressure from my chest.
I know I need to do something. It’s been over two years for fuck’s sake. I should be over him by now, but that would mean giving up on someone I love. I just can’t.
I’ve thought about being with other guys—I should be with other guys—but I automatically start thinking they’ll just leave or have no reason to want to be with me. He was the first one to stay with me for longer than a month. Dating anyone is hard and will just end in heartbreak, so what’s the point?
That question has plagued me month after month.
I remember the times when I could rise early, when I had energy to smile, when I liked my reflection. I’d wake everyday excited for what was in store. Now it’s an accomplishment to get out of bed.
The day Ryan, my ex, left replays in my mind over and over again. I woke up to find him gone. All his things packed. No note, no call, just gone. Like two and a half years together didn’t mean a thing. Like I didn’t mean a thing when I thought he was my everything.
The only thing keeping me going now is my business and my friends.
I have people to meet, things to do, places to go. A meeting with Jason, the sales manager at the gym I own a third of, Prestige Fitness Club and Spa, is in thirty minutes. I should be out of the shower by now—doing my hair and makeup—putting effort into my appearance.
Yeah, right.
Ryan obviously didn’t see us staying together, even when I tried being presentable. In moments of weakness, which is often, I look him up on social media. I just want to get a glimpse of what he looks like now. See his familiar face as I wish it was in person.
Unfortunately for me, he blocked me. I stare at an old picture of him on my phone instead. It was taken the day before he left—looking preppy, clean-cut, smiling. I should move on. I don’t know where to start. I can’t even look at another guy or think about another guy without comparing them to him. God, that’s so cliché. I roll my eyes at myself.
You’re pathetic.
Fifteen minutes pass in the shower before I decide to drag myself out. I choose some black leggings and a dark gray blouse that looks like a pillowcase. It hides my stomach, so I don’t care what it looks like. I throw my hair in a messy bun and call it a day.
I squeeze into my little white economy car. Then I put the car in reverse and tap on the gas to make my way over to the gym.
Honk!
I jump in my seat, hitting the brake as quick as I can. Oops. Didn’t see that car.
Once I check my surroundings again, I’m off. It’ll take less than ten mi nutes to arrive at work. You can get almost anywhere in this town in ten minutes. Lakebrook has one theater, one nice place to eat, and one casual café. Not a lot of options, but big enough for someone like me to blend in.
Once I reach the gym, I scan my code and head to the only office. A light sheen of sweat begins to set in, along with a dry throat. Going to the office means others will be hanging around. Interacting with a bunch of people means smiling, talking, and listening. I need energy and to give a damn for those things.
Sometimes seeing people isn’t bad. My best friend and business partner, Scarlett, is usually there. Scarlett’s fiancé, Matt, comes in whenever Scarlett is scheduled since his office is down the street.
But sometimes her fiancée brings in someone else. Someone else that gives me butterflies, makes me blush, and makes me trip over my own feet. I’d rather not deal with him.
I hope my timing is right today.
Chapter 2
Lana
I walk into the office at the gym, greeted by Scarlett laughing with her head tilted back towards the ceiling. Her long, dark hair is pulled into a ponytail and she’s dressed in her usual outfit of black slacks and the black gym polo. Her fiancé, Matt, is smirking, as he watches her. He’s standing next to her in a long sleeve button-down and tan slacks, ready to put his arm around her or stand in front of her if some sort of threat walks in. I’ve noticed he’s always observant.
Then the tall, broad figure in a navy suit with a diamond-patterned blue tie comes into view. Yup, the butterflies are fluttering in my stomach and my cheeks heat up. I’m sure they’re a bright pink color.
I stare at him, frozen in my tracks. The pull towards him is making it too hard to look away. Instead of the short hair he sported when we were younger, he has a man bun pulled back at the nape of his neck. It’s still a dirty blond color, which is the only familiar thing about his appearance. He used to be clean shaven, but now has a beard brushed down to a V, making him look like a Viking in a suit. It’s the strangest look I’ve ever seen. Most guys choose to be cool or choose to be nerdy. He makes his own rules, and I hate that it makes me even more attracted to him.
Damn. I should’ve stayed in bed longer.
He’s here.
Why the fuck is he here?
It makes my plan of avoiding him all that more unattainable. Ryan and I always steered clear of people like him. One look at his suit and you can tell money is oozing out of his pores. These people don’t seem to work. They’re just on endless vacations to exotic places and lounge around with some sort of drink in their hands at all times. How are they getting these funds? Drugs? Stealing from hardworking people? Running a sex trade? Selling guns?
My hands start fidgeting on their own account—tucking a non-existent strand of my hair behind my ear, resting my hand on my hip, and then switching to the other side. I stand there biting my cheek, unsure of what to do. My heart has fallen into my stomach and is doing flips. Even though I don’t want to react to his presence, I can’t help it.
Since the housewarming party at Matt and Scarlett’s, it’s like I see the guy everywhere. Maybe not everywhere, but it seems like it. Him and Matt have a real estate business based in Texas—Reding and Green. They just expanded to Washington. Don’t they have work to do? Buildings to buy and shit?
I have to remind myself I don’t want anything to do with guys, especially some rich guy who may or may not be doing shady things. Ryan was always at work. He was the first one in and the last one out. He’d say, “You have to work hard to get anywhere in life,” and he did.
Sure, sometimes I’d cook and Ryan would get home too late, so dinner would be cold. Maybe he would choose work over doing something fun. He always made sure to have his reports done ahead of time, and I was okay with that. I understand working is important. The man in front of me, however, hasn’t gotten the memo.
Grant sees me first. “Good morning, Sunshine.” He has the biggest fucking smile. That gives me some leverage to dislike him. My fist twitches with the urge to punch it away. No one should be this cheerful unless they can fart rainbows.
I glare at him. “Mr. Green,” I respond in a flat tone.
Every time I see him, it’s the same greeting. “Good morning, Sunshine.” Sometimes I’ll get a good evening or good afternoon instead of morning, but basically the same thing.
What the fuck is this Sunshine business about?
Do I look cheerful? Do I have unicorns following me around? No. I’m wearing gray. The color of a rainy day, not a sunny one. I never smile at him. I barely laugh anymore these days. I was just thinking about punching him for having the nerve to be joyful. I’m not understanding the sunshine reference.
Scarlett is next. “Hey, La La! I saw Jason going to the locker room. He should be out to help you soon.”
“Okay, cool. Thanks Scar.” I wave goodbye, only making eye contact with Scarlett. I need to get out of here.
I turn towards the exit and even though I concentrate as much as I can on acting normal, I stumble over my own feet. It’s that thing when you know someone cute is watching you, so you try to act cool and blow it. My face heats from embarrassment as I look around hoping no one saw.
Grant Green makes eye contact with mine, smirking.
Fuck!
I practically run out of the room. Once I’m out of view from knowing eyes, I take a deep breath and lean my back against the wall right outside the office. I’m not sure where I should wait for Jason. I know I don’t want to stay in there, especially after almost falling and he saw. I hide my face in my hands, trying to get my bearings.
Grant’s voice makes me lift my head. “What’s the deal with your friend, Scarlett? I never see her smile anymore.”
My heart rate picks up. My eyes glance in his direction even though I can’t see anyone talking. He’s asking about me?
“Lana, you mean?” Scarlett asks. I can tell she’s doing that “I don’t know who you mean” face, while knowing exactly who he means.
“Yeah, she used to be full of life. Now she looks like she hates the world. It’s like I’m seeing a completely different person.”
“She went through a bad break-up and has sworn off men. You sure do pay attention to her a lot.”
“Just wondering what the cold shoulder is all about.”
“Uh-huh. Why do you call her Sunshine?”
“Messing with her.”
“Right.” She exaggerates the word. “You’re out of luck for now, bud.”
Although the thought of Grant asking about me is making my heart rate increase and stomach twist, I’m thinking he’s just asking since I won’t talk to him. I can’t talk to him. He’s trouble and I need to remember that. Plus, he’s way out of my league.
I don’t want to listen to this anymore. I head to the front desk. It’s the only safe place to be until they leave. While I’m standing around waiting, I notice a new poster.
Jason and Scarlett thought a cool way to get our members motivated was to offer marathons and contests. This one is some sort of run through the town. There’s a perfect-looking girl on the poster, smiling in a sports bra and tight shorts. She looks confident, poised, and beautiful.
The first thought that comes to my head is, I used to be like her.
I play that statement over and over in my mind. Tears are on the verge of overflowing onto my cheeks for the second time today. It’s not that I want my body to look like hers. I’ve always been on the curvier side and I’m okay with that. What I’ve lost is my confidence and acceptance of who I am. I’ve always felt beautiful in my skin. Now I can’t stand looking into the mirror. I don’t feel like me.
Footsteps sound behind me. I blink a few times to keep the tears at bay. Then I turn around.
“Hey, babe! Thought I’d find you up here,” Jason greets, leaning in for a hug.
His black hair is trimmed close to his head and his muscles are practically popping out everywhere in his gym polo. Jason calls everyone babe. We’ve known each other since high school, before he announced he was gay.
“You interested in joining the marathon?” He nods towards the poster. “I can train you. We can mix weights with running distance and you’d be fit to race in no time.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” I reply, surprised I didn’t flat out say no.
“Think about it! You know I’m here if you need me, girl.” He puts his arm over my shoulder.
