“I don’t want to hear what you told the police,” I say through gritted teeth. “I want the truth. What happened to Royal that night, Preston? I know you know.”
He pats his thigh in a slow, relentless rhythm until I look down at his lap. “All right,” he says. “Sit on my lap, and I’ll tell you the truth.”
“Just tell me.”
He pops a cherry tomato in his mouth and chews slowly. “Them’s my terms,” he says. “You can take ‘em, or you can walk away.”
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll sit like a good dog. But keep your hands off me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” he says. “I have no interest in feeling you up like a horny thirteen-year-old. There’s only one part of you I have any use for, and you’ll just have to wait until I’m good and ready. But don’t worry, pretty puppy. When the time comes, I’ll wreck that pussy right.”
“Don’t count on it.”
Preston lets out a low, slow laugh. His eyes are cold and sharp, a predator ready for the killing strike. He leans forward until his face is just inches from mine, letting his gaze caress my face and skim over my lips before returning to mine. “If I wanted to, I could bend you over this table and bust one in your ass right now, and not a person in this room would stop me. No, baby. They’d cheer me on. I’m a Darling. Don’t underestimate what that means in this town.”
My heart is hammering in my chest as I stare back into those piercing blue eyes. There’s a warning there, and it’s not just to scare me. Preston wants me to know what I’m dealing with. He’s not being sneaky. I begin to lower myself toward his lap, but he swings his legs around, sliding both feet between mine and pulling me forward onto his knees. The crowd around us breaks into excited murmurs as I straddle his knees. Preston silences them with one glance.
I never look away from him. “You might think you’re untouchable,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper, though it stays steady as I speak. “But even a Darling won’t get away with murder.”
“It’s already been done,” Preston says, his hands landing on my bare knees. He doesn’t squeeze. He doesn’t hurt me. But their presence is a threat, a promise. “Learn your history, Dolce. This town lives and dies by it.”
His eyes flicker to something behind me, and his hands move higher on my thighs, pushing my skirt up further.
It takes everything in me not to grab his hands, not to slap them away, not to show him how uncomfortable I am right now. Instead, I stare him straight in the eye. “What did you do to Royal?”
“You want to know what happened?” Preston says. “I was at Devlin’s, and I saw the limo come up, and I thought you were all in it. Royal got out alone. He taunted me about being at Devlin’s, waiting for him like a little lap dog. He said I should be the Darling Dog, and that he knew where Devlin was. I knew where he was, too. I always know where my boys are.”
I wait, knowing he doesn’t have to tell me this. That he could pretend in front of all his buddies that no one ever challenged his rule.
“He was running his mouth like a bitch, so I punched him.”
The crowd around us sucks in a breath. They know Royal’s missing. They know Preston’s incriminating himself to me. They just don’t know why. And neither do I, which scares me more than anything.
“You hit him?”
“Yeah,” he says. “I hit him. And he hit back. I wasn’t looking to get arrested again, and I knew that little bitch would squeal to the pigs if I did any damage. I wanted back on the team, so I wasn’t going to give him what he wanted. So I left him there.”
He slides his hands further up my thighs, stopping just before he’d be flashing my underwear to the crowd.
“That’s it?” I ask.
“No,” he says. “A few minutes later, I was out on the porch, and I saw a shitty old pickup drive up to your house. Royal got in, and they left.”
“What?” I ask, my heart pound so hard I think I’m going to pass out. “Who was it?”
“I don’t know,” he says with a shrug, like it doesn’t matter. “No one from this school.”
“How do you know?” I demand.
Preston smirks. “I know what everyone here drives.”
Before I can poke a hundred holes in his bullshit story, someone grabs the base of my ponytail in a firm grip. “Can I get in on this lap dance?” Colt asks, his voice a silky-slow purr in my ear that sends a shiver through me. The next second, something cold and wet pours over my head, giving me chills for a whole different reason. I gasp, barely holding back a cry of shock.
Around me, everyone breaks into laughter. Cold, white liquid runs down my scalp, trickling down my face. And then they’re surrounding me as Colt grips my ponytail, holding my head. Preston grabs my hands and pins them behind my back, forcing my body to bow toward him.
“Whore,” Lacey says, throwing a glass of milk in my face.
“Get ‘er done,” a guy yells, holding his glass up and letting the milk pour like a waterfall over my tits. Everyone jostles to get closer, to drench me further. I blink and sputter, aware of my clothes clinging to my wet skin, the sweet stink of milk drenching me, and the blur of faces laughing as they throw their drinks in my face. Milk cascades over me, rushing down my back, my chest, my face. Half the crowd is barking, and the other half is jeering and catcalling as my silk shirt is soaked, clinging to my body, and my nipples pebble with cold.