by Tl Mayhew
Once she starts, she doesn’t stop. “Everyone has one, you know that list of celebrities you’d like to…well, you know. As I said, it’s usually ten but there are so many hotties my list is double if not more. Rook’s not my number one, but he’s probably top five. His hard edge and tattoos make my…”
I can’t bring myself to listen any further. “You’re sure you saw this girl?” I point at the screen of my phone, cutting her off before she says something vulgar and puts an image in my mind of something I could never unsee.
“Yep, that’s her. I was only at the table for a couple of minutes before the whole fight scene happened.” She leans in, glancing around. “I know I shouldn’t say this because fighting is never a good thing, but damn, it was so hot.”
I push my glasses back up on my nose. It’s mostly because of her proximity but also so I can roll my eyes at her ridiculousness. “Back to the girl. Did you by chance get her name?”
“Hmm, let me think. It was unusual and I think it started with a W. Willow…no. Wynter…no. Wendy…maybe.”
“Wendy?” I ask, scrunching my face, what a horrid name. Who names their kid after a fast food place?
“No, that’s not right…it was…Winsley, yeah that’s it. Winsley. I told you it was unusual,” she says, standing up proud that she remembered.
Unusual…if only she knew who she was talking to. “You didn’t happen to catch a last name, did you?”
“No, ma’am. First name basis only.” She grins.
“Okay, thank you and thank you for the drink,” I tell her in a hard tone, lifting my drink, signaling goodbye, and hoping she’ll get the hint we’re done here.
“Would you like anything to eat? Or anything else?” she asks.
I can tell from her desperate tone she has very few friends and only wants to stay and talk, but I’ve got things to do, and they don’t include sitting here any longer. Sucking down my drink, I pull forty dollars from my purse and set it on the table. “No, thank you.”
“All right. Come see us again. Ask for Rayleen.”
Lifting a hand over my shoulder, I wave her away as my short steps carry me quickly across the busy street to where my driver opens the door. I slip into the smooth leather seat and toss the floppy hat and sunglasses onto the seat next to me.
Once the driver is within hearing range, I spew out orders, “Driver, take me home, but don’t take the route you did last time. It may be shorter, but it doesn’t take me past his apartment complex and you should know, after driving me for five years we, always take the same route.”
“Yes, Miss Tinka.”
Pressing my finger on button, it raises the divider between us and I’m punching out a call to Shawn, the biggest mistake of my life. He’s the director I’d had a one-night stand with. It was a huge mistake and not one I’m proud of. Drunk and disorderly is how I’d been described. Once I’d learned of Preston’s fetishes I was done.
“Hey, baby, are you coming over tonight?” he says, his voice slinking through the line.
Ignoring his attempt at sexy, I get straight to the point. “Shawn, you know people, right?”
“I know a lot of people. Who are you looking for specifically?”
“Someone who can find out stuff?”
“Whatcha got?”
“There was a fight at Le Petite Café today at around lunchtime. Prior to that fight there was a girl there with Preston and Rook. Her first name Winsley and I have video. I need to know everything about her.”
The line goes quiet and when he comes back on his voice is much quieter. “He said he can do it. But Tinka…”
When he says it like that, I know something else is coming and I brace myself. “Yeah?”
“You owe me, I’m thinking dinner at Vespertine.”
“Once you get me the information, we’ll talk.” I disconnect the line just as we turn the corner of Preston’s street. I drop the divider and meet the driver’s eyes in the mirror. “Take it slow.”
He nods and the car’s pace slows to a crawl.
10
Preston
By the time I get back to the apartment, Winsley’s already waited for over forty minutes and I’m afraid she’ll be waiting for me at the door, ready to leave, instead she’s standing at the window looking out at the view when I walk in.
My apartment is on the twentieth floor of a high-end luxury complex. I could’ve chosen a million-dollar mansion, or something with a yard at least, but I'm not here often enough to really care about the size of my living quarters, or lawn maintenance for that matter.
Instead I settled for a million-dollar view.
It consists of a long line of white beach that spreads from north to south as far as the eye can see. On the left and right of this building are more apartment complexes, and a hotel or two, but the money shot is the ocean waves crashing against the shore.
It’s a beautiful sight, one I don't appreciate often enough and today it has an added bonus of the beauty standing on this side of the glass. I’d give half my fortune to know what she's thinking, instead I settle for pouring a couple glasses of red wine and strolling over to join her.
Lifting an arm over her shoulder, I dangle the glass in her view. "I hope you like red."
She looks at the offered red liquid, after which her eyes meet mine as she reaches for it. "Red is fine, thank you."
There’s a whirlpool of emotions going on in those emerald eyes. It intrigues me and I’m curious to know more. "You look lost in thought; would you like to share?"
She tips the glass up to her lips with shaky hands, before she starts, “I was thinking, how it’s possible I’m in Preston Pace’s apartment, and how I’m looking out his window at one of the most amazing views I’ve ever seen. But now, I’m wondering if that’s your line?”
"My line? If you’re talking about what I might say to get you in bed, then no,” I reply, taking a sip of wine and meeting her stare in the glass’s reflection. “I wouldn’t ask.”
Darting her tongue out and across her lip, she lowers her eyes to the liquid that will eventually make this awkward situation a lot more comfortable.
Her actions make my dick twitch. I’m tempted to toss her over my shoulder and haul her in the back, but what I say next surprises even me. "Let’s call it an exercise. I’m genuinely interested in finding out more about the woman who's filled my thoughts since this afternoon.” That sounded a lot different in my mind. I can’t give her the impression she’s been the object of my obsession since this morning, and quickly add, “Also to understand why she felt it necessary to defy a recommendation I thought had been crystal clear."
Her brows crease and she asks, "Recommendation?"
"Let’s not jump ahead. Why don’t you tell me something about yourself, and then we can discuss what you should have done versus what you actually did."
Eyeing me cautiously, it appears as if she’s considering how much information is enough, but then she hits me with something I hadn’t expected. "I’ve never been with a man before. Does that earn me a turn in bed with the infamous Preston Pace?"
If she were any other woman her sarcasm would be grounds for a punishment, and I’d already have her ass up, pounding her from behind. But fuck, a virgin? It explains why she’s nervous as hell and why my body is feeding off those nerves like they’re a last meal.
I lean in, lowering my tone. "Be careful what you ask for. In case you’ve forgotten, you’re in the king’s castle."
Her eyes meet mine. What were once whirlpools of green are now an endless ocean amid the wrath of a hurricane. They’re begging for calm and control. Something I’d be more than happy to give her.
“I haven’t forgotten,” she breathes out.
With three simple words I lose the last thread of my control. Cupping her face and forcing my lips on hers—I take what I want.
She stiffens. Surely, she’s kissed before. I consider the possibility she hasn’t because she seems unsure how to handle the assault on
her tender mouth. If innocence had a taste, it would be her. Minty and fresh with a touch of merlot. A growl deep in my chest escapes. It boosts her confidence and her lips awkwardly sync with mine. Our tongues frantically search for the other.
Our motions grow more intense and I back her up against the window, my hands moving to her waist where I pull her against me, and my hardened dick. Suffice to say, she has been kissed before and if I have my way, it will never by anyone else again—because from this moment on—she’s mine.
There’s a knock at the door.
It breaks her concentration and she pulls away breathing heavily. Her swollen lips are parted slightly. Unable to resist, I lean in and bite the bottom one and suck it into my mouth, and she yelps.
There’s a knock again.
“Goddammit, where is Garret?” I growl, dropping my forehead to hers.
“He said he was stepping out,” she breathes back, the warm air tickling my lips and sending a shiver straight south.
In this one moment I wish I had X-ray vision because if I did and it wasn’t the cops, I’d be sweeping her off her feet and carrying her to the bedroom. “It’s probably the police.”
"The police? Why would the police be here?" she asks, taking a step back.
"Rook and I had a discussion. More physical than verbal, unfortunately." She takes in a quick breath and places a hand over her mouth.
"Is he okay?"
That’s when I notice it, the bruising around her wrist. Taking her chin between my thumb and forefinger, I tilt her head up but she doesn’t meet my eyes. Hers are focused on the continuous knocking at the door. “Look at me,” I command.
She does.
"He’s fine, as am I, but what about you?” I retort, holding my thoughts on telling her why she never should have left with him to begin with.
“What about me?” she asks with irritation.
I take her hand in mine, stretching it out, and showing her the bruise.
She quickly covers it with her other hand. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine. I warned you to stay away from him. He’s not the guy you think he is, Winsley,” I explain, taking her elbow gently in my hand and leading her over to the wet bar. “Let’s get you some ice.”
The knock is harsher this time, and we both glance in that direction.
“I can manage with this; you’d better see who it is.”
She’s right. Whoever it is doesn’t seem like they’re going away anytime soon. I place a kiss on her forehead. “This won’t take long then we can finish what we started."
She turns a bright shade of pink. It hardens my dick even more than it had when I tasted her lips, but if I’m being honest, not more than when she announced she was a virgin. The chances of finding a woman like her become less and less exceptional with each year that passes.
Stalking toward the door, I find out who’s on the other side through the peephole. To my dismay it’s not the police, instead it’s someone I'd never expected.
"Tinka. What are you doing here?" I ask, standing in the empty space of the open door. If she finds Winsley here, the night will most certainly be ruined.
Placing her palm on my chest, she presses against me, hoping she can work her way in. I don't budge. She leaves her hand there anyway.
"When I saw you on the video, I thought I'd come by and make sure you were okay. Are you?"
"I'm fine, Tink. Now really isn’t a good time," I reply, but make the mistake of glancing back into the room.
"Is there someone here?” She huffs out, “It’s the woman from the video isn’t it?”
Her question clarifies the exact reason she’s here. It’s not about me or my well-being, it’s about her jealousy. Which is ironic, considering her cheating is the reason we’re not still together. “That’s none of your business. You made that decision when you decided you wanted another man," I tell her, using my body to close the gap between the door and its frame.
Throwing a hand on her hip, her face creases with anger. "Well, if you’re not going to let me in, then I’ll just send everything I know about Winsley to the tabloids," she says, ignoring the comment about her infidelity. “How do you think your fans and the media would react? I’d bet the new girl in the fucked-up anti-duo that is Preston and Rook would get her a lot of press. Maybe make her more than just an extra.”
"As soon as that video went viral, I knew it wouldn’t take you long to dig up something on her. But, Tink,” I lower my tone so only she can hear, “you’d better be careful about divvying out threats so freely, because you never know who’s watching.”
This pisses her off and she shoves the door, managing to duck under my arm, and force her way inside.
I should toss her out, but the devious side of me wants her to meet Winsley. Someone her exact opposite. Down-to-earth both mentally and physically. Not pumped up with a fake only a doctor could prescribe.
Closing the door, I cross my arms and lean against it, watching from afar. The catfight is about to begin.
11
Preston
Without saying a word, she heads straight for the woman who, at this point, is giving me the narrowest fuck you look I’ve ever been dealt.
“Hi, I’m Tinka,” she introduces herself, offering Winsley her hand as if she expects it to be kissed.
“Winsley, and I know who you are,” she bites back, ignoring the outstretched hand, crossing her arms instead.
The nervous girl from moments ago has suddenly morphed into a confident lioness, prepared to take out her rival. What’s also a bit humorous, because she’s been here for less than two hours, is she’s already picking up my signature move.
Tinka saunters over to the wet bar, her back to me, but when she turns around there are two glasses in her hand. One wine and one whiskey. “Well, you have me at a disadvantage then, how do you know me?” she asks, offering Winsley a glass.
Winsley takes it without much thought.
“I read the tabloids, and I watch the news. In fact, pretty much all the news last month was about Tinka and Preston’s big breakup.”
The cackle coming from the bar sends a shiver up my spine and I watch my ex cautiously. I don’t trust her. If she ruins whatever this is with Winsley, she’ll have me to answer to me. Nevertheless, this should be good. The movie industry is Tinka’s domain.
“The tabloids? Ha! The last story about Preston and me that had any truth to it was when the headlines read ‘America’s Favorite Couple.’ The rest is just crap they write to fill the pages.”
“Are you still together?” Winsley asks Tink, but her eyes are on me.
I raise a brow and shake my head no.
“No, but…” Tinka responds with a glass of whiskey just shy of her lips.
“Well then, I guess they got something else right, too,” Winsley says cutting her off, and pinning her with a smug stare.
At this very moment, I’m feeling a bit proud of my new girl, but she just lit the fuse to a bomb I’m not sure I’m even ready for.
Tinka’s expression morphs quickly into a hatred even I don’t recognize. I take a step, but she catches me out of the corner of her eye and raises a hand, signaling she’s done with that line of questioning, but what comes next is much, much worse.
“Since we’re on the subject of Preston, where did you meet him?”
“I first saw him on the set of a Taste of Yesteryear.” Winsley glances at me, and I give her a nod, encouraging her to continue. “We didn’t meet until this morning.”
“Well, isn’t that interesting,” she spits out with enough attitude to freeze hell. “You just met, yet here you are, in his apartment with swollen lips and looking a bit flushed. Did Garret hire you?”
“Careful, Tinka. Now is not the time,” I warn. It’s obvious where she’s going with this.
“Why not, Preston? Isn’t that how this works? Garret gets you a girl, you fuck her ten ways from Sunday and then you toss her aside.”
Winsley’s eyes s
nap to mine and her horrified expression says it all. Her view of me just took a nosedive from the clouds we were in only moments ago, straight into the gutter.
“That’s enough!” I shout, my steps eat up the floor as I close in on her. “It’s time for you to go.”
“But I haven’t finished my drink,” she says, taking a small sip of whiskey.
“Take it with you,” I growl.
When I reach her, she cranes her neck to meet my eyes and her hand rests on my chest, again. Ensuring she’s perfectly in view of the woman who is probably thinking she’d rather be anywhere but here. I grip Tinka’s arm and direct her to the exit.
But just as I’m about to toss her out, there’s another knock at the door.
“What is this Grand Fucking Central Station?” I growl, knowing this time it is the police because even though I gave Garret strict instructions to knock, he doesn’t always listen; he’d be strolling right in.
Pulling open the door I’m met by two uniformed officers.
“Preston Pace?” the younger one asks, but he doesn’t wait for my answer before his eyes are on Tinka.
“Yes, I’m Preston, and this is Tinka. She was just leaving.”
“Are you sure I can’t stay and provide moral support?” Tinka asks, leaning in and rubbing against me.
“I’m sure,” I respond, encouraging her into the hall with a hand on her back.
“One moment,” the older man says. “Tinka, is it?”
“Yes,” she responds inquisitively.
He offers her a tired smile. “Were you at the Le Petite Café earlier today; say at around twelve thirty?”
“She wasn’t there,” I answer. “The young woman you’re looking for is waiting in my living room. I would prefer you limit the questions to avoid any further undue stress.”
The older man looks at me with disbelief, I suspect at my answering for both. He turns to Tinka. “Is that true, Miss?”
She lets out a deep sigh. “Preston is correct. I wasn’t there, I’d only seen it on the video posted all over social media.”