Page 8 of The Devil of Hollywood

“Fuck no. Never mind. You said you needed to speak to me?”

“Yeah.”

I paused as one of my waitresses approached, handing me my drink. It had Quinton’s eyes going round.

“You don’t drink anymore. This must be… bad.”

“I’m getting married.”

Confusion flashed, then disbelief, and finally laughter.

“Get the fuck out of here.”

“I’m serious.” I placed the glass on the table. “First, I need a favor, and you owe me plenty.”

“What you need is water. You’ve apparently fell off the wagon and had too much to drink today because I know you’re not fucking getting married. Not you. You’re the Devil of Hollywood. Sinn doesn’t date. He doesn’t even fuck women. He sure as hell doesn’t get married.”

“Quinton.” My head shook. “I may be Sinn to you and the guys, but I’m Drayton Pennington first.”

His face sobered. “Oh fuck. Your family is forcing you to marry? You’re not the heir anymore.”

“It’s complicated.”

“It’s not. You’re not the heir, Drayton. You don’t have to do anything they say. They turned their backs on you. They’ve treated you like shit. So, you fucked up. You were a kid! And you lost everything for it.”

“I was twenty-three. I was a man. I knew better.” My eyes lowered, slowly lifting through the flashes of twisted metal and bloody asphalt. I could still hear the screams. I could still see Delia’s body sprawled awkwardly on the road through my shattered windshield. She’d been so broken. So… unrecognizable.

“I killed our cousin. I was hungover and driving recklessly. I should have made her buckle her seatbelt. What I did was unforgiveable.”

“And you’ve apologized a million times. Marian, that bitch⁠—”

“Don’t.” I cut him off with a look.

“Don’t mention the person who’s responsible for making you lose everything? Drayton, Marian did this. She lied to your parents. She said you got her drunk and forced yourself on her, taking her virginity. That she didn’t even want anything to do with you anymore, but you wouldn’t leave her alone. She acted like she loved you around all of us, and then she made you out to be this horrible monster to your parents.”

A shallow breath left me. “She did.”

“It blows my mind everything she said.” Quinton cursed, pacing as he glared towards me.

“I didn’t rape her, but the rest isn’t technically a lie.”

He paused. “Are you saying you got her drunk and took advantage of her?”

“We knew what was going to happen. She was nervous. Eager. But she was under the legal age to drink and I gave her some scotch, so, yes.”

“Was she passed out when you⁠—”

“Of course not.”

“Wasted? Stumbling?”

“No.”

“Exactly. That’s not the vicious rape or events they insinuated, and you know it. What about the other part? You wouldn’t leave her alone? You stalked her? You tried breaking into her bedroom window.”

“Several times. And the stalking… oh, yes. I still do.”

He came to a stop as his mouth parted.