Ten Years
Preston Darling
When Dolly steps into the room wearing one of the dresses I handpicked for her, she’s so fucking beautiful I swear time stops.
There’s something different in her eyes, too, as if it’s already working.
She’s been reminded of who she used to be, who she can be again—her true self, not some Hollywood version of her.
The way the dress skims over her curves and hugs them at the same time is enough to undo any man.
I don’t know if I’m going to make it through dinner without getting up and walking out, driving to the state prison where Dad is serving out his sentence, and burning his face off the way the Dolces burned mine.
“I’m glad you decided to join me,” I tell her. “I thought you might be difficult.”
“Because you locked me in your house like a prisoner?”
“Sit,” I say. “Let’s talk over a nice meal. I’d like you to know how things are going to be from now on.”
“Excuse me?”
I gesture to the table, trying not to explode with rage at the sight of all that perfection in front of me. Once, I could have been a match for that. Now, I’m… this.
My father didn’t do this to me, but I blame him for the hideous face I have to wear for the rest of my life just as I blame them.
For two years, plans for revenge were all I had to live for.
My father was gone for the next ten years, the business was gone, the future was gone.
The Dolces ended my football career, and with a face that has literally made children cry and adults gasp with revulsion, I couldn’t exactly practice law.
What jury is going to side with a monster, trust someone they can’t even look at without recoiling in horror?
My future was over before it began. I had nothing to lose except a life that was already over. There was no use in living for such a hideous beast of a man.
And then I found Harper. At first, I meant to use her to destroy my enemies.
Hard as she is, though, she softened me in some way.
Broken as she is, she healed me. At least enough to know that even if a woman like Dolly would never willingly shackle herself to a grotesque monster, that didn’t mean I couldn’t.
Still, I hate to condemn her to such a life.
I wouldn’t mind making my father pay for his part in making me into such a creature.
I wouldn’t mind hearing him cry for once, so I could call him a pussy the way he called me one when I was a kid, until I forgot how tears worked and only remembered how to rage.
I wouldn’t mind hearing him begging like I begged for him to let the hospital fly me out of this town to one more equipped to deal with the extent of my injuries, one where they could do skin grafts and plastic surgery.
By some miracle, they might have saved me from a lifetime of shame, even if they couldn’t save my eye.
Like Dolly said, maybe in some other timeline, in some other reality, I wear a face that she could willingly love.
In this one, though, I don’t get that luxury.
Dolly glares at me, but when I don’t answer, she takes the seat at the far end of the table, as far as she can possibly get from me.
“How are you finding your accommodations?” I ask, ignoring the distant thuds from the west wing.
“Accommodations?” she asks incredulously. “You act like this is some resort. You locked me in, Preston. You should be asking how I like my prison cell.”
“Very well,” I say, spreading my napkin over my lap. “How are you finding your prison cell? Though I’d hardly call it that. I gave you every comfort.”
“Except the freedom to leave,” she points out.
“I talked to your father today,” I tell her. “He’s just come under some scrutiny for some donations he took from Tony Dolce, and he agreed it was best if you stayed here for the holidays.”
“I already know that,” she says, her tone scathing. “But how dare you talk to my father behind my back?”
“I didn’t even take your phone,” I point out. “You can hardly call yourself a prisoner.”
She glares at me and doesn’t say a word as Mrs. Potter enters to set our food in front of us.
Charlie tags behind her, pushing a cart he can hardly see around.
It’s not the house manager’s job to serve us, nor is it her son’s, but she’s the only one I trust with Dolly.
She’ll be compensated for the extra work, even if it’s just to set our plates before us and pour our wine.
Before she leaves, she gives my hand a quick squeeze and offers me an encouraging smile.
When she’s gone, Dolly’s face has gone red. “Her too?”
“What?”
“Were you fucking her too?” she asks. “I mean, you told me there was only one other girl, but since you said she meant nothing, and she obviously meant quite a lot to you, I’m not feeling inclined to trust you right now.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about Harper,” she says, glaring her hatred at me.
“When Magnolia said she doubted Charles was Mr. Potter’s, I thought she meant your grandfather.
But now I’m beginning to think you haven’t changed a bit since high school.
So, are you fucking your step-grandmother, too?
Is this your way of rubbing it in my face? ”
“There’s no proof Charles is a Darling,” I say. “His mother refused a DNA test.”
I think her head’s about to explode with the anger rolling off her in waves. “How would you like it if I brought in Nash to serve you dinner?”
“I’d fucking love every second of it,” I say. “Bring the bastard here and we’ll put him to work tomorrow.”
“You’re sick,” she says. “By law, that’s your grandmother, Preston.”
“She’s three years older than me. How old is Nash?”
“Nash isn’t related to me.”
“Mrs. Potter isn’t related to me,” I remind her. “And I’m not fucking her.”
“But you have?”
“Look, my grandfather basically bought her. She came here for a job, not a husband. The house was full of guys her own age, and she was a normal eighteen-year-old. Not everyone likes older men, Doll.”
“You did fuck her.”
“I fucked everyone back then,” I say, cutting into my steak. “It didn’t mean anything. I knew the second you wanted me, I’d drop anyone else, and I didn’t want to risk having feelings involved. The only person who ever mattered, the only person I ever wanted to fuck, was you, Dolly.”
“Well, it sure looked like you were enjoying it,” she says, viciously slicing through the meat on her plate.
“Was I supposed to suffer?” I ask. “Trust me, I did. Every fucking time I had to see you dressed up to match Devlin at some pathetic high school dance. Every time I saw you kiss him. Every time you went home with him. Every time you looked at him the way you never looked at me. Every time I saw him look at you without the same look in his eyes. He never wanted you the way I do, Dolly.”
“Yeah, well, he also didn’t fuck every girl in the entire school—including my best friend.”
“I never fucked a single girl when I wasn’t thinking about you,” I say quietly. “Imagining you taking my cock and begging for more. I’ve never cum without picturing your face, Dolly.”
“You’re disgusting,” she snaps. “Do you really think I want to hear that? That somehow that’s supposed to make it better?”
“I don’t even know what you’re upset about, so how can I make it better?” I growl in frustration. “I fucking love you, Dolly. I’ve always loved you. Why does it matter what I did in high school? You told me to move on, but you’re the one who hasn’t.”
“Why is she still here?” Dolly asks, gripping her fork like she’d like to gouge out my other eye with it.
I shrug. “She took care of me after the attack, nursed me back to health. Before you ask, yes, that includes exactly what you’re imagining.
But it was three years ago, Dolly. And let me remind you that when I woke up in the hospital, before I even came back here to recover, I asked you to be there for me. You said no.”
“I had just found out you violated me in an unforgivable way,” she says, her voice cracking. “You’re going to throw it in my face that I didn’t instantly forgive you just because you were on your death bed when you told me? That’s not how it works, Preston.”
“Then how does it work?”
“It doesn’t,” she growls. “And if I’d known you were fucking someone else, I might have thought twice about being there for you as much as I was.”
“You were there for me to admire and desire and flatter.” I glare at her, fury fueling the accusation.
“Just like you were all through high school, and ever since we were kids. You knew I liked you. You always knew. You thrived on that, loved it. But you never wanted me, never thought I was good enough.”
“That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it, though?” I ask, my words vicious with truth. “You wanted me to want you, but you never wanted me back. You loved the way I saw you. You gave me enough to keep me wanting, to string me along so you didn’t lose your biggest fan—not one smile, not one touch, more.”
“So I didn’t lose our friendship,” she says, her eyes shining with tears. “I didn’t care if you thought I was hot. You think I didn’t admire you, too? You were gorgeous, Preston. So beautiful it hurt to look at you sometimes.”
“I was.” I spit the words out, each one like a bitter pill. “But you still chose Devlin.”
“I lost him,” she says. “And Destiny. I couldn’t lose you, too. You were my best friend.”
“Your friend?” I ask. “You’re going to pretend that’s what we were?”
“You were,” she protests. “And fine, maybe you were more than that. But I was scared, okay? Devlin was safe, and everyone expected it, and our parents approved. I didn’t want to risk everything, because if it didn’t work out, I didn’t just lose my family’s approval. I’d lose you, Preston.”
“You didn’t want to lose Devlin,” I say flatly. “I was your backup plan. And when it was over, you left. I never really had a shot at all. You just made me think I did.”
She swipes angrily at her eyes. “That’s not true.”