“Did I ask you to touch me?” I grit out.
His smile falters, and he loosens his grip. I give him a meaningful look. Maybe he’s remembering the reason for all this, too, because he drops his hands from my legs.
“Sorry,” he mutters, sliding out of his chair and onto his knees in front of me.
I could sit and lift my foot for him, at least my toes, but I don’t. I want him to bow all the way to the floor, to make it count. I don’t owe him anything, not even making this easy.
Duke’s grin returns, and he hops into a pushup position. “Want me to drop and give you twenty?” he asks, lowering himself to quickly kiss my toe. He pops back up and claps his hands, showing his physical prowess. And damn, he does look good, his body all planes of muscle, his back defined through his dress shirt. But when his hands hit the floor and he starts to lower himself for another pushup, I move my foot, setting the pointed toe of my Louboutin on top of his fingers.
He’s not taking this over, making it the Duke Dolce show. This isn’t about him.
“One is enough,” I say. “Now get up.”
“Aw, you’re no fun,” he says, but he pushes up onto his knees again. There’s a beat of silence, and then about half the café starts applauding. My gaze darts around as I try to figure out if they’re clapping for me or Duke. That’s when I see almost everyone clapping is female. I’m thrown off my concentration for a second, but Duke is used to applause, and he gives a big, sloppy grin and throws kisses to the audience. Then he turns to me and wiggles his brows. “Are you going to slap me in the face with your pussy? I mean, if we’re reversing roles here. That’s what I did to you.”
“And I slapped you back.”
He grins. “I’ll slap your pussy any day, Cherry Pie.”
The other guys snicker, but I silence them with a glare.
“Thank you for your service,” I say, pointing to his chair.
“You sure you don’t want me to lay you back on the table and show you how I really worship a queen?” he asks, giving me his wickedest grin. “I have a sweet tooth, and I haven’t had dessert yet.”
But under the showmanship, I know there’s something real. He may clown around to hide it, but this boy is afraid of the power I wield. He knows as well as I do that the applause wasn’t for him—it was for the girl who finally made him bend a knee for her.
I turn to Baron and cock a brow. “Your turn, psycho boy.”
Baron stands, and even though he’s not as big as Royal, his impressive build is still like a wall in front of me. The whispers in the room die as everyone holds their breath, waiting for the other Dolce boy to bow.
He works his jaw back and forth, then gives his head a single shake. “No.”
Our eyes meet, and he holds my gaze. For a long, breathless moment, no one speaks.
“I’m not sure you know the meaning of that word,” I tell him, my heart pounding. If I play my cards wrong, this can still come crashing down around me. I thought I had this power, that I hadn’t run out of what Royal gave me already. But maybe I don’t have quite as much as I thought.
Baron lifts his chin, his eyes cool. “Dolces don’t bow.”
My mind races through the possibilities. I see it playing out how he thinks it will. Neither of us will give in, and we’ll fight it out. If I knock him out, like I did in the pit, he won’t let it slide. Not when it’s in front of the school, when I’ll make him lose face. He’ll be out for revenge, and he’ll come back even harder. I could rat him out about making drugs, but I have no proof beyond his word. And everyone knows who gets believed in that scenario. He’ll win, and he’ll come back to school and tell everyone I’m a rat who tried to take him down.
Then, they’ll all hate me. It’ll never end, just like their fight with the Darlings. Like Colt said, they’re always just a little more crazy, a little more reckless, with a little less to lose. We all know who loses when it’s comes down to the Dolces, no matter who the opposition is.
So, I do what I did in the pit—I pull back, conserving whatever power I have left. Royal didn’t give me everything. He gave me a launch pad, a starting point. I have to take those lottery winnings and stretch them a little further, not retire and party them all away.
I nod to Baron and hold out a hand. “I can respect that,” I say. “Truce?”
He takes my hand in a firm grip, his dark eyes intense behind his glasses. “What are your terms?” he asks quietly. “You want to be our number one girl?”
I can’t help but laugh.
“No,” I say flatly. “I don’t want to be a Dolce girl. I know you boys are used to sitting on the throne by yourselves, but this year, I’ll be up there with you. You can still be the kings. But make way for the fucking queen.”
thirty-five
Harper Apple
“Oh my god, what was that?” Dixie asks, catching up to me as I leave the café. “That was by far the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life! Duke Dolce just kissed your feet! When you said you had some tricks up your sleeve, I didn’t expectthat.How the hell did you get him to bow to you?”