Chapter 29
two men walk into a bar
Preston Darling
This must be some kind of joke. I slip in at a table in a dimly lit corner to watch the woman I followed across the country being hit on by a guy who can’t be taller than her shoulder and must be twice her age.
I’m not surprised by that—Dolly’s been getting hit on by creeps since she filled out in fourth grade.
But the fact that she’s letting him do it, that she’s not slapping his hand away as it migrates up her thigh…
Anger pulses in my temple, and my hands close into fists.
I know Dolly Beckett. She doesn’t like old men.
She doesn’t like short men. I know every single thing she likes in a man because I’ve been watching her since before my earliest memory.
I watched her date my cousin, my enemies, an up-and-coming boyband member—everyone but me.
I’ve studied what they all have in common so that I could one day be the one she chose.
This time, I’m choosing. I’m done waiting. Tonight, I’ll make the first move.
But as I watch her, I wonder how much she’s changed, if I really know her at all anymore. Three years is a long time. Last I knew, she wasn’t the kind of girl who’d let some creep feel her up at a bar.
She’s the kind who leaves town and everyone she knows, setting out on her own to find herself. She’s brave and stubborn and sure of herself. Maybe if I’d been brave enough to tell her I loved her sooner, before she knew what I’d done, she would have loved me back.
That’s not fair to her, though. No one could love a man like me, one whose face is so hideously scarred they can’t look at me without cringing in horror.
She never gave a fuck what anyone thought about her, but that’s easy for a woman as gorgeous as her.
She embraced her potent femininity and traditionalist heart, defending what she wanted even when her friends told her it was limiting to want a simple life of marriage and kids.
When that was what she wanted, nothing could convince her otherwise, just like nothing could convince her to stay when she’d decided to leave.
She defiantly wears heels even though she’s almost six feet tall, not trying to make herself small for insecure men.
Even though jealous girls in high school called her a living Barbie, she never stopped wearing her signature pink in every outfit.
Now she’s wearing a grey skirt and a low-cut black top that shows her fuckable tits to the asshole groping her.
The longer I watch, the more fury builds inside me.
If I can tell from across the room she’s not into him, he can tell from right up in her face.
It’s not because I know her so well. It’s obvious to anyone who bothered to look—she leans away from him every time he leans closer, tenses when he touches her, laughs uncomfortably when he makes some joke while staring at her tits.
If he can’t tell she’s uncomfortable, it’s because he doesn’t care.
I slip out of my corner table and stalk over to the bar, taking the seat on her other side. He has her turned toward him on the chair, her knees between his, so she’ll have to make a three-quarter turn to see me. That’s fine. I’m more focused on him right now.
After setting my drink on the edge of the bar, I just stare him down, not speaking. He spares me a funny look and then returns to their conversation as expected. It takes a minute, but humans are like dogs. They don’t like to be stared at. Pretty soon, he’ll be as uncomfortable as he’s making her.
“Let’s get you a personal trainer first, get some pounds off,” the guy says to Dolly.
He talks fast, not letting her speak. “Then we can come to them with something fresh, not the same old thing that didn’t pan out the first time.
What are you, a size six? We can get it down to a three, take you from a buck fifty to one-twenty. How’s that sound?”
Dolly gives a forced little laugh and pushes aside the bowl of snack mix she was nibbling from. “I don’t weigh one-fifty.”
The guy glances at me, getting noticeably uncomfortable when he sees me still staring. But he dives back in, licking his lips and spewing more of his bullshit at her.
“Sorry, sweetheart, I’m just guessing, just throwing numbers out.
One-forty then. Point is, if we come to them with a sexier look and a sexier sound—a sexier Dolly all around—I bet they’ll take another look.
Maybe even get you a new name. My son did that with Aria Airheart, rebranding the old one-hit-wonder package into something they’ve never seen.
I see a lot of potential in you, sweetheart.
With a new image, a tighter body, maybe a new name, we can get you back on track.
People didn’t want Dolly Beckett, a return to bubblegum pop, but maybe they’ll want Dolly and the Divas, or—”
“Dolly Darling,” I say behind her.
Her spine stiffens.
“What are you supposed to be?” the guy demands. “The Phantom of the Opera?”
“He wore a white mask,” I say coolly, resting my forearm along the bar.
Dolly turns slowly, her eyes going wide with alarm when they meet mine.
“Oh right,” her date says. “What are you, auditioning for a role in Cinderella? Going to a masquerade ball?”
“Original,” I say, raising a brow. “Got anything else for me?”
The guy gives me a dirty look and turns back to Dolly, who’s still gaping at me like she’s seen a ghost. She knows who I am, even behind a mask.
I know she does, even if she won’t admit it to herself yet, that I followed her all the way to California.
She’s never seen me with a mask. But then, she’d never seen Devlin with brown hair and glasses, but she recognized him with his disguise.
She may be blonde, but she’s far from dumb.
“Leave us alone,” her date says. “Shit. The types of people they let in here. Can’t even go out in peace anymore. What was I saying, sweetheart?”
He rests a familiar hand on her thigh again, and she stiffens visibly, but she doesn’t draw away.
“The personal trainer,” she says, plastering on a smile I’ve only seen at Darling family gatherings, usually reserved for my grandfather.
She sits up straight, making her tits strain against her shirt.
“I’ll give it a try, Nash, but I don’t know if I can get down to one-twenty, with the way I’m built… ”
“Taylor Swift’s tall, and she’s got it under control,” the guy—Nash—says. “Hey, let’s take this back to my place and continue the discussion in the hot tub. This creep here’s obviously not going to leave us alone, and the wife’s still out of town.”
“I’m not sure tonight’s the best night,” she says, sneaking a guilty glance at me.
I’m no stranger to rich men’s infidelity, but the Dolly I know has more self-respect than that. This one apparently doesn’t.
“I’ll get the car to come around,” Nash says, raising a hand to call for the check.
Dolly shifts in her seat, but when she sees me moving in, her jaw tightens, and she gives me a look that could turn a man’s balls to ice cubes.
“You know, I don’t think I will leave you alone,” I say to the asshole. “The lady said no.”
“Lady?” he asks with a derisive snort. “This one’s already been on half the casting couches in Hollywood.”
“You can’t be actively slut shaming a girl while you’re trying to get in her pants, can you?” I ask. “Shit, and here I thought Arkansas was backwards.”
“You know this clown?” Nash asks, hooking a thumb in my direction.
“No,” Dolly says quickly, shaking her head.
“Oh, she knows me,” I say, slipping off the bar stool to sling an arm around her shoulders.
I give the man my most winning smile. “She knows every inch of me, don’t you, Doll?
She knows I could toss her around a mattress the way a little shrimp like you never could.
She knows how hard I can make her cum—do guys like you even try?
She knows how to milk every last drop out of my bare cock and drink it in with her thirsty little cervix. Don’t you, babe?”
“Preston,” she hisses, her teeth clenched in a frozen smile.
“That’s right, baby doll,” I say. “I knew you’d recognize me.”
“What are you doing here?” she demands.
“Mostly speaking the truth,” I say. “If this asshole is good enough for you, he shouldn’t be threatened. In fact, he should know how good you’ve had it, so he can do his best to surpass it. Though if stature is any indication, I don’t think he’s got much to work with.”
“Are you saying my dick’s small?” the guy asks, a frown darkening his brow as he glares at me.
“Yeah,” I say. “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“Is this really the place for a measuring contest?” Dolly asks.
“Seems as good a place as any,” I say. “But if you’d rather the contest be who can make you cum harder, I’m in for that, too. Do I get to take you home when I win? Because I can make you keep coming all night. But then, you know already that, don’t you, Doll?”
“Get the fuck out of here before we call security on you,” the guy says, signing the check and tossing down the pen. “I don’t know why they allowed a creepy clown in here to begin with. I’ve gotta put in a complaint about this.”
“Is the mask bothering you?” I taunt as I pull out my wallet. Looking down on him, I open it and pull out a hundred. “Don’t worry, a lot of guys are intimidated by it. Or is it my height, little man?”
I toss the bill on his check for a tip.
I think the poor guy’s head is about to explode.
“Little man?” he splutters. “Do you know who I am?”
“Preston, don’t,” Dolly says, her nail set digging into my skin as she grips my shoulder.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” I say to the Nash guy. “I care about my girl here getting taken advantage of by limp dick swindlers.”
“Why don’t you take that mask off if you’re so fucking tough?” Nash asks. “What kind of pussy can’t even show his face? You’re the real-life version of an online troll hiding behind a keyboard. I make shit happen. I don’t need extra inches for that. I’ve got balls.”